I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(90)

My fingers press on my forehead.

Knox Grayson, QB1 and the leader of the Sharks, was the first person I saw when we walked up to the fire, his arm curled around…Tawny? Yeah. With the golden brown hair like sunlight. She’s not just pretty; she’s beautiful, wrapped in wealth and superiority—ah, crap, forget her. She doesn’t even know my name. It’s an image of him, of Knox, that lingers…the long, ugly scar that runs down from his right temple, through the hollow of his cheek, slicing into his upper lip. The devil. Hades. I call him that in my head sometimes before I shove him out of my thoughts and lock him away tight. My subconscious has always known to flee when I pass him in the hall, to run like the hot winds of hell are at my back.

He watched me walk up with Jolena, an intimidating glint in his narrowed gaze.

What are you doing here? his face said with a curl of those twisted lips.

His little looks—oh, how can I call them little? They’ve always been big looks, sweeping and brushing over me then dismissive, reducing me down to nothing but the air he breathes, the very dust motes that float around our hallowed school.

But…tonight—God, it’s still the same night, right?—I forged ahead, swallowing my misgivings about him because Chance appeared in front of me. Beautiful, sweet Chance. My heart, which feels sluggish and weak, beats quicker. He’s a Shark, in that inner circle, but he likes me. He’s been mine since this summer, little touches and slow kisses. We’re building up to more, so much more. A leftover wisp of joy caresses me as I recall him twirling me around, kissing me on the cheek, and asking me to sing. After much cajoling and another shot of Fireball, I stood in the bed of someone’s truck and belted out “Skyscraper” by Demi Lovato. Cheers rang out. Even Jolena smiled, and I don’t even think she really likes me. I felt…elated.

Things get fuzzy after that.

Stumbling around inside my head, I wince at the images I see. Chance is there, but he isn’t glad to see me anymore—which is weird because he invited me. He begged me to come. He made other promises too, but suddenly I see him right up in my face, jawline clenched, eyes blazing.

What…what did I do to him?

Doesn’t he know I’ve put him on a pedestal and thought he might be different? I didn’t want to fall so fast. I don’t love much. I don’t. To allow love in makes one vulnerable and it—

Forget him.

What is wrong with my body?

A lone tear wets my face and I wipe it away fiercely, surprised by the emotion.

Stop it, Ava.

You’re just in the woods, and God knows you’ve slept in worst places.

Still, another drop of moisture sneaks out, and I swallow down the lump of emotion in my throat.

This is just me being drunk. That’s all.

Nothing terrible has happened. Nothing at all.

I…I drank too much. That’s it.

I suck in air as more faces from the party zoom in and out of my head, their features vague, funhouse images playing out, a horrible fair ride gone wrong. I see Knox leaving with Tawny. I watch Chance with another girl and my heart cracks. I see Jolena whispering to the other girls on the squad while they stare daggers at me.

What did I do?

Faster and faster and faster the events tumble around until I feel sick and lean over and vomit.

When I was ten, I managed to escape Mama at a fair, which wasn’t really an escape because she didn’t care what I did as long as I eventually came back. She slipped inside one of those rusty trailers on the outskirts where the workers lived. That night, she followed a man with thinning oily hair, a bushy beard, and a red bulbous nose. He pushed money into her hands and they wobbled off to disappear into that tiny metal house while I dashed for the rides, zeroing in on the Zipper. Most Exhilarating Ride at the Fair the blinking red lights said, but once the lady clamped that bar down and hurtled me into the sky, I screamed, my hands white-knuckled and clenched, certain the next spin into the heavens would be my last and I’d come crashing down, my guts flowing over twisted metal when the thing hit the earth.

But, I didn’t cry. Not one time. Even when I went back to that trailer and snuck inside and Mama was on her knees in front of the man. His pants were at his ankles as her hands cupped his privates. Her eyes flashed at me then up at him. A long moment passed, seeming to stretch into eternity, then she motioned for me. Come here, Ava.

He zipped his pants and lurched toward me, and I flew out that door and ran and ran and ran. He chased me while I flew past the Zipper, past the corn dog stand, past the goldfish game, and right out the exit. I didn’t see Mama for two days.

Focus, please Ava, time is passing and you’re not right in the head and your body is wrong, just stop thinking about Mama and get yourself up and go go go go go go go go go go go…

With a huge breath, I push myself up more. God, I hurt everywhere. I touch my face, checking for injuries, but there’s no swelling or blood. My arms are fine, goose bumps rising in the chilly air. I rub down my chest, squinting in the darkness. My shirt is shoved up to my throat, exposing my plain white bra, issued to me by the nuns at Sisters of Charity. The cups have been maneuvered down, and I adjust it with careful, slow movements, putting my breasts back inside.

My legs are jelly but still there, and I huff out a laugh as if expecting fatal injuries. No Zipper death yet.

Wait… I let out a primal sound, as if my body knows, only it’s taking my brain a minute to catch up. My skirt is bunched up around my hips, my pelvic area bare. No plain white underwear from the nuns. Dimly, I process the leaves and twigs from the woods digging into my bottom. My hands flail uselessly over my skin as if the scrap of material might magically appear.