Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(42)

Damn. Too much time spent thinking on the past lately, and how things turned out, how they could’ve been different—I can’t do this forever. At some point, I just have to accept that it is what it is, and move on.

But that guilt, and the fear that my involvement is what triggered…

I stop the thought before it takes over, pulling me under into that dark void. It won’t change anything. I can’t turn back time—I can’t alter reality. All the clichés I try so hard to keep out of my writing come barreling toward me, threatening to tear me apart.

Ari’s dorm room is before me, one solid wooden door separating me from her. If she’s in there. I don’t hesitate a moment longer. My fist bangs against the wood. Muffled voices bleed through the door, then it’s yanked open.

“What—oh.” Vee’s green eyes widen with surprise. She opens the door wider, revealing Ari sitting on her bed, an iPad propped on her knees and obscuring her face, ear buds dangling from her ears. “I guess I should give you guys privacy…again,” she says, and my gaze snaps to her. “But I’m getting kind of tired of you guys always needing it. Why can’t you just figure it out, already? Be. Nice.” She lowers her head as she says this last part, delivering a stern glare.

“I agree,” I say, sliding by her as she leaves the room. “I’d like us to get past…whatever the issue is.” She shrugs, as if she knows nothing, but I wish she’d give me a clue before I face down the wrath of Ari.

I close the door quietly, then tuck my hands into my pockets as I ease toward her bed. She doesn’t notice me until I’m standing directly above her. Her large amber eyes glance up, then back to her iPad screen, then back to me.

“Shit!” She bounds up, yanking the ear buds out and tossing the device on her bed. “Jesus, Ryder. Creep much?”

Despite her obvious irritation with me, I smile. “I figured you must’ve lost your phone and was desperately trying to find a way to contact me.” I raise my eyebrows. Challenging.

Her hand pressed to her chest, as if she’s trying to contain her heart from leaping out of it, she says slowly, “Ryder. What do you want?”

That’s a loaded question. I want a lot of things. I want the Bobcats to cream Engleton and bring home the championship. I want my brother to get straight, stop drinking and stay on his meds, stop f*cking his life up. I want my mom healthy. But in relation to Ari—to this specific desire—I want her to trust me.

I’m not sure if I’m deserving of her trust, or her time, but I’d at least like the opportunity to try to be. And that’s a hard thing for me to admit. Even to myself. If she rejects me, proves in some way that I’m not worthy, nothing but a dumb, poor, talentless jock, then I’m afraid of what it could mean. The possibility that my brother’s fate should’ve been mine.

She’s staring up at me, waiting for an answer. I’ve gone so far past a simple explanation in my head. “I want you to talk to me.” Simple. Direct. A start.

She huffs, then pushes herself back up against the wall. As far away from me as she can get. I’m aware of the wall solidifying between us. The one she’s raising that I have no control over bringing back down. If it was ever lowered in the first place.

But that’s not all her doing. I haven’t really let her in further than the surface, either.

She pushes her hair back away from her forehead, as if she’s stressed. “You kept your promise. So I’ll keep mine. Nothing’s changed.”

“But it has.” I sit down on her bed. Her socked feet just graze my thigh, and I can almost feel the strain in her body as she forces herself to keep them there. Not to pull away. “What bet?”

Her eyes close briefly. “It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

Frustration seizes my chest, and I release a heavy breath to ease the constriction. “You’re pissing me off now.”

Her eyes flick to mine. “I’m pissing you off? Oh, sorry. I always seem to forget the amount of narcissism that’s involved with jocks.”

That’s it. I tug her foot, bringing her forward. “What’s your deal with jocks? Why don’t we just get that one out of the way?”

“Hey!” She scrambles to push herself away again, but this time not nearly as far. “You have a real problem with maneuvering people wherever you want, you know that?”

I hold eye contact with her, waiting.

She sighs, then, “The guy I was steady with at my last college was this big lacrosse star.”

I raise my eyebrows, prompting more from her. “And?”

“And,” she says, drawing out the word. “There was a bunch of stuff. But mostly, I was expelled.”

My face contorts with my confusion. Little Ari. Little uptight, perfectly in control, levelheaded Ari, expelled. I find this hard to believe. “Care to elaborate?”

She shakes her head, ejecting a strained huff from her mouth. “Not really. Let’s just say he was really into himself, like super conceited, and he thought that me taking the fall for something would work out better for our relationship.” She wriggles her fingers, making air quotes. “He said he couldn’t get an expulsion because of his sport’s career, whereas I—because of my family’s connections—would be able to get away with it.” She rolls her eyes. “That didn’t happen. I took the blame, got expelled, and he dumped me the next week. Through a text. Before I was admitted to rehab.”