38. Penelope

38

PENELOPE

TEN MONTHS AGO

W hy am I here? I should have told Nora no. Why didn’t I tell her no?

“I’m going to campus. There’s a party some chick wants me to go to.”

I look up at Linc from the book I’m reading. He just showered and looks as good in a t-shirt and jeans as any guy ever could in a three-piece suit. “Why are you telling me?”

I moved in last week, and honestly, it hasn’t gone well. We’re both angry and lost. I’ve struggled to make myself go to class.

With every breath I breathe, all I feel is guilt.

“I don’t know.” He grabs his keys, and I jump up.

“Wait. Let me go with you.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?” I need to escape. I have to get out of here.

He hates having me here just as much as I hate being here. That much is very clear, but we both granted Nora’s wish, and now we’re stuck with each other for a year.

“Fine. I’m leaving soon though, so if that’s not what you want to wear, move your ass.”

I look down at the sweat shorts and baggy t-shirt I have on, my hair pulled up into a messy bun. Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t go out in public looking like this.

I don’t waste time, putting the book down and rushing to my room, finding a pair of jean shorts and a charcoal t-shirt I knot in the front. I let my hair down and brush it out with my fingers, then apply some makeup before I meet Linc at the door.

His eyes slide over what I’m wearing, and he doesn’t seem to approve. But he doesn’t object as he opens the door, and we climb into his car.

“I’m not fucking babysitting you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I mean it, P. I’m going to get laid.”

I roll my eyes and flip the visor down, using the lighted mirror to apply lip gloss. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need.”

He’s been stuck in hate-mode since the funeral, and I’ve just been in a daze. Maybe the comfort of another stranger would be good for me.

I can’t have Colt. I may not be a genius, but I know I shouldn’t allow myself to have Linc. I can do this.

He parks the car, his anger boiling under the surface, but I don’t care. I jump out and go inside, immediately grabbing a drink.

No fucks given because seriously . . . What’s the point anymore?

I start to drink and dance to the music, letting myself feel as free as possible and watch Linc move along on the sidelines of the massive living room with a drink in his hand, watching me.

He’s such a broody asshole. I tried to talk to him about the funeral when I first moved in, but he didn’t want to do it. He shut it down in one second flat and has pretty much avoided me ever since.

So, fuck him.

I miss Colt. And Lola. And Nora.

Linc.

I miss them all.

But they’re all gone. We’ve all practically sunk to the bottom of the lake with Colt.

Strong hands grip my hips from behind as someone I don’t know grabs hold of me and starts to dance. The cologne that wafts toward me isn’t unpleasant, but it’s not one I’m used to.

My eyes land on Linc, who’s standing straight up and seems tense as he watches us.

No. You don’t get to pretend like you’re my savior.

I reach my arm behind me, grasping the stranger’s neck and pressing my body into his, swaying to the beat, taking another drink.

One of the guy’s hands slides up my side, brushing under my breast, and I see Linc gripping the cup in his hand too tightly, the edges are smashing in.

I shake my head at him, tipping my head back as the stranger drags his lips over my neck. His face is smooth, no stubble. And it feels so fucking wrong, I want to vomit.

But I lean into it and him, forcing myself to turn away from Linc and wrap my arms around the pleasantly handsome stranger’s neck.

I just want to forget. I just want the pain to stop for a moment.

I need an escape.