Poser (14 page)

A couple ladies came up to the table, making eyes at Drew. It was a few of the girls he’d been dancing with earlier. “We need some company,” one of them said. She had long, almost-black hair.

“The ladies want what they want.” Drew sighed and stood. “Ladies, you know my bro Trent?”

“Of course.” They smiled, and he was pulled out onto the floor with them.

That used to be Rome and me. Before we fell in love. Funny, I didn’t miss those days at all.

Out on the dance floor, Ivy and Rimmel were laughing and having fun. It was good to see her smiling and just living in the moment. I watched a couple guys dancing nearby. I saw the way they watched her, and I knew they wanted to slide right up behind her for a dance.

So far, they’d kept their distance.

They’d remain where they were if they knew what was good for them. This far into the semester, everyone knew she was taken and they knew by whom.

Drew and Trent moved through the crowd and appeared beside them. Ivy hugged her brother fast, then went back to dancing.

“What’s his deal?” Romeo hitched his chin in Drew’s direction.

“Don’t worry. I threatened his life if he even looked at Rim.”

Romeo’s body stiffened. “He hit on Rimmel?”

“Hells no. I’d have kicked his ass out. But I sure as hell made sure he knew he better not.”

Romeo relaxed a little, but I noted the way he watched them all on the floor a little closer. “What’s he doing here?”

“Came to check me out. Came home from his summer internship to find his little sis moved in with some guy.”

“Her mother’s approval wasn’t enough for him?” Romeo took a chug of beer.

I made a rude sound. “Guess not. Made his panties twisted that her parents haven’t actually met me, only through FaceTime.”

Romeo laughed. “Dude. You FaceTimed her ‘rents?”

“Fuck you.” I grinned. “I had to, man. She asked me to.”

Romeo nodded solemnly, then busted out laughing.

“Anyway, he showed up, said he missed her. But when she left the room, he made it clear he was here to check us all out, make sure we’re good enough for his little sister.”

“What aren’t you saying, B?”

I turned my eyes on him. “What makes you think I’m not saying something?”

The look on his face was one of a guy who smelled the worst fart ever. Since it didn’t stink in here, I knew he was calling bullshit.

I drained the rest of my beer, basically stalling for time, trying to think up some smartass comment that would change the subject. Or hoping one of his many fans would come over here and take the heat off me.

A distraction.

Any kind of distraction would be good right now.

Except for the one I got.

“No!” a female shrieked. The sound was so loud and panicked it carried over the music and through the crowd.

I knew that sound.

I jerked upright and looked toward Ivy. Some guy had come up behind her, grabbed her, and had his arms locked around her waist.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled.

I saw the panic in her face, the way her body locked up.

It’s happening again. Just like the shower.

I let out a string of curses and dropped my empty glass. The crowd around our table was massive, and I wasn’t about to make my way around. By the time I got to her, she’d be in a full-blown panic.

I jumped up on the tabletop, my feet knocking over some beers and baskets of peanuts. I didn’t pause. I kept going and jumped off the table and onto the floor on the other side.

By that time, Drew had yanked the dirty bastard off her but was handling the situation entirely wrong.

Hell.

He was handling it like any brother would, but not the way Ivy needed. It wasn’t about that guy, the fucker; it was about Ivy. Her body was having a flashback.

Drew had the guy by the shirt, and as I shoved people out of my way, he plowed his fist into the guy’s jaw, sending him flying backward.

Right into Ivy.

The two of them fell to the ground in a heap, Ivy on the bottom.

Pinned to the floor, beneath a complete stranger.

She started to scream.

Ivy

The hands came out of nowhere.

The body forced itself right up against mine. There was something dirty and unwanted about the way it felt.

One second, everything was fine. I was having fun and laughing.

And then it wasn’t.

In the span of two seconds, my heart rate tripled, a sick, dizzy feeling washed over me, and I felt sweat break out over my forehead.

“No!” The protest literally clawed out of my chest and burned my throat on its way out.

I have to get away from him.

I don’t want this.

“Don’t touch me!”

I felt the body ripped away. We spun with the force of it. I was still reeling, still trying to pull myself back from the anxiety that had completely taken over.

I blinked enough to clear my vision and see Drew ramming his fist into the face of the man who grabbed me.

I didn’t have time to think or move.

The stranger knocked into me, both of us crumpling to the floor.

The smell of booze hit my nostrils, and I gagged. The guy was so drunk he couldn’t even control his own body.

He was lying on top of me, his weight so heavy, his skin so sticky.

Oh my God. No.

It became excessively hard to breathe. Black spots swam before my eyes. I wanted him off me. I wanted him—

He groaned and tried to get up. All it did was push his body closer into mine.

I started to scream.

Seconds later, all the weight was gone and the sound of a familiar—yet angry—voice floated above me. “Don’t you fucking touch her.”

“She’s my sister,” another voice argued.

I started to shake. The adrenaline in my system was too much to handle so fast. “Ivy,” Braeden said. “Baby, I’m gonna touch you.”

His gentle hands lifted me off the ground. I barely registered the crowd around us or the music playing through the club.

“You’re okay,” he promised, his voice soothing and close to my ear.

A sob ripped from my chest, and I pushed my face into his shoulder. He picked me up and held me against him.

I liked the way he felt. His arms didn’t feel like panic. They felt safe.

We started moving through the place. A minute later, the cool night air brushed across my skin and lifted my hair.

“We’re going home,” Braeden said, and I heard the sound of gravel crunching under his feet.

It was soon joined by more of the same behind us.

“What the fuck happened back there?” Drew yelled.

Braeden stopped, his body tense. I concentrated on breathing. “We’re going home,” he said, tight.

“I want a fucking explanation for what just happened!” he roared.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice weak and my throat raw.

Braeden’s hold tightened around me. “Hush.”

“Now is not the time.” Romeo cut in, his voice the only reasonable one.

“That’s my sister,” Drew growled.

“I get it. She’s like one to me too,” Romeo replied. “Which is why you need to let B handle his shit and take her home. Standing in a parking lot and arguing isn’t good for her.”

Braeden started walking again. In the truck, my head started to clear a little. I was able to hear my own thoughts.

“Braeden,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything, baby.” He tucked me closer into his side.

“What’s happening to me?” My voice broke.

He didn’t say anything, but I knew he saw it too.

Something was wrong with me.

I was scared.

Braeden

Right before I carried her out of the club, the crowd parted.

She was standing right there at the edge, staring.

Our eyes locked.

The threats she made to take me down had been just that, threats. Words she never intended to follow through with.

How did I know?

The stark, unbridled fear in her eyes.

Missy knew I was at my snapping point. She knew the unspoken truce between us to not say shit was crumbling.

This was my final straw.

Something had to give.

I wouldn’t watch Ivy suffer this way.

It was time I told her the truth.

Meanwhile,

Zach

Dope me up.

That’s all they wanted to do to me here. They wanted to cram pills down my throat to “fix” me because it was easier than trying to change who I was—who I would
always
be at the core.

They didn’t need to know that, though.

All these people in their white coats with understanding smiles and happy, positive outlooks could keep living in their fantasy world. I’d play along. It pissed me off more than anyone would ever understand, more than they would ever see. I was good at hiding what was really inside me.

The best, actually.

I walked through these halls in my designer slippers and pajamas. Frankly, it made me feel like Hugh Hefner, like I was at some spa, and I often wondered if these people really believed they were any better than the prisoners here (prisoners = patients).

We were all liars. I was just more honest about who I was than the rest. My honesty got me locked up here, in this cushy treatment center where they could fix me and tell the courts I was no longer crazy. That I was a functioning, contributing member to society.

Though, I always was that. I just wasn’t what everyone else deemed appropriate. I just didn’t behave the way everyone else thought I should.

Screw that and screw them.

But I could play their game. I could pretend to be exactly who they wanted. I could sit in my therapy sessions across from my grossly inadequate therapist who cared more about her Botoxed forehead than anything that came out of my mouth.

I said what she wanted to hear, and she made the appropriate noises and asked me how I felt.

The truth was I felt like laughing.

Sometimes the laugh would bubble up inside me, rising up like a tidal wave in the center of a violent storm. It would threaten to burst out, escaping into the room, and turn from one single giggle into an ongoing, high-pitched laugh that made me sound like a hyena.

A few times, I actually choked trying to force the reaction back down. I used it to my advantage too. I turned it into a sob and was “overcome by emotion.” Remorse for what I’d done. Guilt for the pain I caused and agony from the effects of my childhood.

The doctor bought it every time. Hook, line, and sinker. Sometimes she even handed me tissues and looked at me with pity in her eyes.

Maybe when I left here, I would take up acting. God knows I was good at pretending.

In actuality, I didn’t feel any of those emotions. No remorse. No guilt. No agony. I did feel resounding anger and satisfaction. I never really set out to do the things I did. But I didn’t regret them either. Those people deserved what they got, and I deserved to be the one to give it to them.

Sometimes life wasn’t fair, so you had to level the playing field. You had to make sure people knew you weren’t buying what they were selling.

Did I take it too far?

Only in the respect that I got caught.

I’d do it again, but this time I’d be a lot quieter about it.

This time I was gonna be smart. I was gonna pose as the man everyone wanted me to be.

Posers gonna pose after all.

Jokers gonna joke.

This time, the joke would be on them.