41. whipped

Bailey

I ignored Luke, picking up my pace to a near jog. The street was lined with tiny older houses, largely rented out by students, so there weren’t any shops to duck into or other means of escape. Besides running, that is, but that probably wasn’t warranted—I was fairly certain Luke was just being annoying.

Fairly.

Not positive.

“I said can we talk?” Luke raised his voice, his tone taking on a familiar sharp edge.

“No,” I called over my shoulder. Why weren’t there any other pedestrians around? If there were witnesses, he would probably leave. Luke wasn’t prone to showing his ass to strangers. He had an image to maintain—or so he thought.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, tempering his voice to appear calm. I knew this routine inside and out.

“Hard pass.”

“Come on,” he said, still easing the car down the street. “Don’t make me park and get out.”

And do what? Maybe I was wrong about him not being dangerous.

“Don’t make me scream for help,” I snapped.

With shaky hands, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone and checked the time. It was 9:09. Chase was probably still on the ice. Maybe hitting the shower. Either way, not reachable. He said to call, but if I did and I couldn’t reach him, he’d be even more upset.

“Bailey. Talk to me for a second.”

Why? So we could fight? There was nothing to talk about. He loved nothing more than trying to suck me back into his cycle of drama.

I shook my head. “No.”

Coming to a stop at the corner, I looked both ways before darting across. He rolled through the red light, keeping pace with me.

“After a year and a half, this is how you’re going to leave things?”

“Yep. And Chase is about one minute away,” I lied, “so leaving things would be in your best interest too.” I shivered as the chill sank deeper into my bones, unsure of whether it was the cold or my flight-or-fight response kicking in.

“Why are you being such a bitch?”

And that was it. I finally snapped. If I’d been holding a rock, I think I would have thrown it through his windshield.

I stepped up onto the curb and came to a screeching halt. “I’m not a bitch. You’re an asshole!” My voice climbed. “Leave me alone. Can’t you take a hint?”

Unfortunately for me, engaging with him seemed to be what he wanted, because he stopped the car on the deserted street.

I should have known better.

Luke sneered, resting his forearm along the open window of the car. His silver Rolex glinted in the streetlight. “I was trying to make things right with you. But I don’t know why I would even bother when you ended up in Carter’s bed the moment after we ended things.”

He didn’t know how right he was. But it wasn’t his business. Never mind the whole Sophie thing on his end, but at this point, I didn’t care enough to volley back verbally.

“You’re a slut,” Luke added.

I shrugged, resuming walking. “Sure. Whatever.”

“So you admit it?”

“I don’t care what you think.” I pretended to check my phone. “You should go. Chase will be here any minute. Don’t think it’ll end well for you.”

“That guy isn’t who you think he is,” he said. “I’ll prove it.”

His tires squealed as he peeled away.

I had a good idea of who Chase was, for better or worse. The good, the bad, the stubborn. Luke’s energy would have been better spent investing in some hardcore therapy of his own.

A short while later, I arrived home—my home for one last night, at least—to an empty house. Hands still trembling, I unlocked the door and quickly locked it again behind me. Leaning back against the door, I flipped on the hall light and sucked in a breath. Safe. Done. Over.

Once my heart resumed a more normal speed, I sent Chase a text to let him know I’d gotten home and left it at that. I didn’t even know what to tell him about Luke. I should tell him. And I would, probably, tomorrow. I couldn’t deal with it tonight.

After grabbing a drink, I went upstairs to finish packing. Moving out of the brownstone was bittersweet. I was mourning the loss of two friendships along the way. Even though it was harder and harder to remember, Amelia and Jillian hadn’t always been the way they were now.

But I guessed it was never a real friendship, given how quickly they flipped the script on me. Sucked that I couldn’t see that until it was too late.

A notification appeared on my phone as I folded the last of my clothes.

The Sideline: Rumor has it there’s a hockey sex tape floating around with a girl from Callingwood. Offering a large monetary reward for anyone who can provide a copy.

Sex tape? My stomach twisted as my mind immediately jumped to the worst possible explanation, like it always did. Was the girl from Callingwood me? Luke wouldn’t have secretly recorded us…would he?

That blind item could be referring to anyone. Could be Jillian or Amelia, even. Or one of the thousands of other students at Callingwood. I was being paranoid. Right?

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