Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(92)

Mia pulls me into the center of the room so we can hop along to some choice tracks from Reputation. Izzy and Bex join us, plus Victoria and Dani, and soon pretty much every girl in the room is dancing while the guys look on, some of them whistling and holding up their phones like they’re at a concert. As one song blends into the next, I realize that the edges of the room look hazy. The music sounds distant, like I’m hearing it from a distance. James comes by with a tray of shots, and I grab two, downing one and shoving the other at Mia. She holds it up, grinning, before throwing it back.

Bex uses her camera to take a couple of Polaroids. “One of the birthday boy and his girl!” she shouts over the music.

Cooper shimmies over, wrapping his arms around my waist and hooking his chin over my shoulder. My heart thuds, but somehow, I smile as Bex takes the picture. She shakes it to help it develop, then passes it over to us. Cooper is grinning; he put up rabbit ears behind my head. I’m smiling, but I look about as comfortable as I feel. Set apart from him, even though I’m in his arms.

“Adorable,” Bex says. “I’m so glad you’re together.”

I swallow back the onslaught of emotion and say, “Thanks. I’m glad too.”

Cooper kisses me, but before we get too into it, Evan whistles and drags him away to do shots with Mickey and Jean and a bunch of other guys from the team. I weave through the crowd slowly, looking for Mia, but I don’t see her; when I get to the kitchen, it’s empty except for, of all people, Brandon. I try to back out quickly, but he spots me.

“Penny?” he asks.

I swallow, resisting the urge to flee to the living room.

“What?”

He gestures to me with his beer. “Can we talk?”

Part of me wants to say no, but he looks sincere enough. If Cooper had a real problem with him, he’d have told me, right? He was an asshole to both of us in Vermont, but that doesn’t mean he’s not capable of being nice. I take a step forward, feeling a little unsteady; the whiskey is hitting me hard.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he says, walking around the counter and leaning against it. I take another wobbly step, and he reaches out to keep me on my feet. He grimaces, holding onto my forearm. “I was an utter asswipe, and I’m sorry. I respect Coach Ryder, and you and him. I was just bitter. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with—”

I jerk away from him.

Tropic Blue.

“Penny?” he says, frowning. “You okay?”

Now that I’ve smelled his cologne, it’s the only thing I can notice. It’s pouring into me like smoke, an ugly plume of seawater and oak. I almost gag; I turn my head to the side to take in a clean breath, but it won’t fucking leave. I glance down at my hands. They’re trembling, yet I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything, actually, and the music in the background has faded to a far-off tune, and two seconds ago I was warm, with whiskey in my belly, but now I feel so cold, it’s like I stripped naked and walked out into the February night.

Tropic Blue. I haven’t smelled that since Preston, and yet my nose remembers every note. He was wearing it that night, doused himself in it. I smelled it on him, and at the time it turned me on. Other girls’ boyfriends wore Axe, but mine had already upgraded to a real cologne. He was a man, and that night I snuck upstairs with him at Jordan’s party, I was determined for him to make me into a woman.

Kisses in the upstairs hallway. Finding an empty room. Taking a couple hits from his joint, even though it made my eyes water.

I shut my eyes, like that will dislodge the memory playing in my mind like a movie. I press my palms against my face. I think Brandon’s still talking to me, but I can’t hear past the dull ringing in my ears, and I can’t focus on a fucking thing but the scent on his skin. He grabs my arms, pulling my hands away from my eyes; I shove him backwards and make a break for it. I need to get away. If I can just get away, he can’t film me—

I push through the room and dash for the stairs. I can’t breathe. My throat feels like someone shoved hot coals down it, and everyone’s face is a big blur, a smudge of a memory. I stumble upstairs, almost falling as I miss a step. My vision blurs as I yank open the door to Cooper’s room, slamming it shut behind me. I slide to the floor, taking in a big gulping sob as I bury my head in my arms. I still can’t feel a thing, not my feet or my hands, but my heart is thudding like it’s about to fly right out of my chest.

I’m in Cooper’s house.

I’m in New York.

Cooper.

I’m with Cooper, not Preston. I don’t even know where Preston is right now. I know where my boyfriend is, though. He’s downstairs having a good time on his birthday. I’m his girlfriend, and I should be by his side, but instead I’m up here, alone. Stupid. Drowning.

Seawater and oak. Spraying it on my wrists because I wanted to smell like him. He loved that, didn’t he? He had me wrapped around his finger.

The glass bottle was deep blue with a turquoise top. Prettier than your eyes, he’d said, the day I discovered it, in his room with him for the first time. Had he been planning it even then? What about me made him decide I was the perfect girl to betray?

I try to take a step, but fall to the floor, hitting my head on the corner of the bookcase next to the window. Pain shoots through my forehead, but I grit my teeth and crawl to the closet. I need to get the scent out of my nose. I need to shake the memory free, and I need to tear it to fucking pieces.