Be with Me (Wait for You #2)(15)

So what Erik wanted, Erik got. Just like Jeremy. I glanced down at my cup, wanting to say something, but felt like I’d be overstepping a line. But to remain silent was killer. No one at school had asked questions when they saw Jeremy grab my arm or yell at me for the most insignificant infractions. Everyone had turned a blind eye. It was easier that way.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the feeling of helplessness returned like an old, needy friend you couldn’t get rid of. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I wasn’t a victim.

When Debbie’s phone went off, I opened my eyes to see her quickly pull it out of her pocket. “Hey, babe, I was—-” Her words were cut off suddenly, and I stiffened. “I know—-yes. Yes! I just left to get some coffee. You—-” She twisted at the waist and swung her feet onto the floor. As she stood, her eyes met mine. A crimson stain swept across her cheeks. She looked away quickly as she hurried out of the room. “Erik, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—-”

She stopped at the door, bending to pick up the sandals she kicked off. Her cotton shorts rode up her thigh, revealing the skin just below her hip. I gasped, but the sound must’ve been lost in whatever Erik was saying to her.

Bruises in an array of yellow and blue marred her skin. Some old. Some so fresh, so vibrantly purple, that I knew they had to have been created within the last twenty--four hours.

Debbie straightened, sandals dangling from the tips of her fingers. “I’m coming over now. I just need to get gas—-I know you told me to get gas last night, but it was late . . .” She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest as I watched her close the door behind her. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t erase what I saw or what it meant. All the bruises, a large cluster of blotches, were inflicted where they could not be normally seen.

They’d been hidden.

My shirt was already starting to cling to the middle of my back, and my right knee ached. The walk from history class in Whitehall all the way to music appreciation on west campus was truly a bitch in this heat. Even worse was the fact that if I wanted to eat anything, I would have to walk my happy ass back to east campus.

“You should’ve taken the bus,” Calla Fritz said, shifting her messenger--style book bag to the other shoulder. “There’s no reason for you to walk this far.”

“I’m okay.”

“My bullshit radar just went off.” Calla tugged her long, golden ponytail out from underneath the strap of her bag. I’d only met her last week when I started class. We shared history and music together, but in the short period of time, I discovered she was pretty blunt when she wanted to be.

Besides Debbie, she was probably my only friend. I didn’t count Avery because she was my brother’s girlfriend and had to like me. Mom had said right before I left for school that some of her longest--lasting friendships started her first year in college.

I didn’t think that was going to happen for me.

Even my friendship with Sadi, and we’d been dancing together since we were five, hadn’t lasted.

“You started limping by the time we reached the football field,” she added.

Sweat caused my sunglasses to slip on the bridge of my nose. Pushing them up, I smiled at her. Short and curvy, Calla Fritz reminded me of one of those ’50s pinup girls. The kind of girls who’d dance burlesque and make a lot of money doing it.

But, like me, Calla was far from perfect.

A raised scar covered her left cheek, from the corner of her lips to her ear. With makeup, it was a faint mark. I didn’t know how she got it and I didn’t ask. I figured it would be something she’d -volunteer.

“I always limp,” I told her. Hiding my gimp leg was impossible with the nice bright pink cut decorating my kneecap. I would’ve preferred to hide it, but I couldn’t stand the heat of late August. “And I need the exercise.”

She snorted. “What the hell ever, my thighs need the exercise. You need a hamburger.”

“Have you seen my ass? It’s known a lot of hamburgers up close and personal. And it’s on speaking terms with french fries.”

“That’s okay. My thighs make out with milkshakes.”

I laughed and then sighed as we entered the tunnel that connected the two sides of the campus. Since it was underground and lit by track lighting, it was a good twenty degrees cooler.

“I wonder if anyone would notice if I just lay down in the middle of this?” Calla asked.

“Probably, but I’d be right there with you.”

Calla spent the rest of our trip bitching about the fact that she—-a nursing major—-had to take music appreciation. I didn’t blame her. It was an easy enough class, but not the most interesting. Our professor really didn’t apply himself. After all, almost everyone in the classroom was there because they had to be.

College was so strange. It was like high school with little to no parental influence. We still had to take classes we didn’t want to take, except we actually had to pay for them, which really kind of sucked ass.

The auditorium was half full, and we took our seats in the back. Sitting halfway down the aisle, I swallowed the groan of relief when I sat. My knee immediately thanked me. I popped my sunglasses up, cringing at the fine sheen of sweat dotting my forehead. Nothing like being a sweaty mess for class. I was so ready for fall.