Believe in Spring (Jett #8)(7)



“My work here is done,” Mindy said, just before hopping up and disappearing into the crowd.

“So how do you know Mindy?” JJ asked me.

“We go to school together,” I said.

He slid a little closer and kept up the conversation. We talked for a few minutes about nothing in particular, and my heart was pounding a mile a minute.

“You want to find somewhere more quiet to talk?” he said.

And I remember it very clearly because he said to talk. Not anything else. Talk. I was a total idiot back then and assumed that what he said was what he’d meant. I said yes. He stood up and took my hand and I was so excited that I guy was holding my hand that I let him lead me down the hallway and into a tiny bedroom at the end of the house. He closed the door behind us and then twisted the lock, securing us from the outside world. My stomach flipped.

Then his arms were all over me, pawing at me like some rabid beast. His tongue was hot and tasted gross as it shoved in my mouth. I froze for a second, not knowing what to do. I’ll admit, part of me kind of wanted to make out a little, just to know what it was like. He was cute, after all, and he clearly liked me. But then he got too handsy, and he reeked of alcohol, and I panicked.

“I want to take things slow!” I said, my words rushed and panicked and stupidly shaking from my fear.

He jumped back as if I’d electrocuted him. Then he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Baby girl, I don’t take things slow. I think you got the wrong idea here.”

“What do you mean?” I stuttered out.

He laughed, a cruel sound that made me feel very small. “I don’t want to date you. You’re Mindy’s friend, which means you’re just good for a hookup.”

Those words stayed with me for months. Even after Dawn uprooted us again and we moved to anther town, I still thought about it all the time. I wasn’t the kind of girl worthy of a relationship. I was just a hookup. A loser. Not girlfriend material.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Just two weeks after the party, I’d come home from school to find my mom hooking up with a guy on the couch.

“Dammit!” she cursed when I walked into the room. “You’re not supposed to be home yet!”

I just ran into my bedroom and closed the door to give her privacy with her guest, and didn’t bother telling her that this was the exact time I got home from school every day. I’d only seen them for a fraction of a second, but it was all I needed.

My mom was hooking up with JJ. And he saw me too.

Shame falls over me as I scroll through these tweets, disregarding Jett’s plea for me to just ignore it.

Some girl is tweeting the whole story, but she’s embellishing it a lot.

Let me tell you something about Jett Adam’s girlfriend, she begins in the first tweet. I happened to meet one of her old boyfriends, and he had something to say about her. Not only is she a big slut, her mother is, too.

It only gets worse from there. The tweets say that I had been sleeping with JJ, and all of his friends, for weeks. And that my mom also slept with them. I’m called every bad name in the book, and then my reputation is dragged as far down as it can go.

She was begging for any guy to sleep with her, the tweets continue. And after I asked around online, I got many people to confirm this.

“This is all a lie,” I tell Jett, tears filling my eyes. “You know this is a lie, right? I never slept with anyone!”

Jett’s lips are pressed into a frown. “I know, baby. No one believes that shit. It’s probably just some fan who is obsessed with me. Please don’t read any more of it.”

Tears pour down my cheeks. I click on the tiny picture of the person who posted all these tweets and look at her profile. Her name is Tawny, and she lives in Dallas. I zoom in on her picture, and realize that this is all my fault. It’s the girl from the steakhouse. The one I called a slut.

Looks like I didn’t have the final word, after all.





Chapter 6


Jett



I am full of rage, and wish I could hit something. But you can’t hit the Internet, which is filled with anonymous assholes. Whoever this bitch is that started a tirade against my girlfriend is going to pay for it. But first, I have to take care of my girl.

“Baby, no one will care about this shit,” I say, wrapping her in my arms and resting my head on top of hers. I can tell she’s trying hard to hold back tears, but it’s not working. “Seriously.”

“It already has a ton of likes,” she says, her voice muffled as I hold her close. “People do care. They’re already saying you deserve better than me.”

I cringe. I was hoping she didn’t see that part on Twitter. Someone announced that I should break up with her, and lots of people retweeted it and agreed. I don’t understand what makes the fans think they can get involved with my personal life. Those aren’t the type of people I want rooting for me on the track. Those people can take their drama elsewhere.

I rub my hand down Keanna’s back. “Let’s do something to take your mind off this,” I say softly.

She pulls away. “I think I’m going to go shower.”

“Want me to come with you?” I ask, giving her a flirty look.

She steps back and shakes her head. “I just want to be alone. Just … please … just leave me alone for a while.”

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