Page 93 of Savage Torment

Holding the journal at arm’s length, I meet his stare. “Whitmore knew about this.”

I flick through the pages, desperate to find it before thrusting it in his face.

Dear Diary,

Men are dumb. Like, dumb dumb.

Why do I like assholes? I’m starting to think it’s a me issue and not a them issue because I can’t help but attract them, but worse than that, I crave their attention.

They’re not all assholes, but the balance is real.

I joked that Blaze could give Lincoln a run for his money when it came to his attitude, but it seems Lincoln is hot on Blaze’s heels for doing what he pleases without actually considering my feelings.

Knowing everything I know now, as jumbled as it still is, I think it’s clear to see that our lives are even moreentangled than any of them could imagine. Especially Tatum and Blaze; they both hold the same coin I do.

It feels important, and I think I need to talk to one of them about it. Maybe Tatum, he’s the safer option. Either way, I’ll be sure to be back here tonight to report whether I’ve had to knee anybody in the balls or not.

Polaris x

Tatum takes the diary from my hands, closing it as he drops it on my bed before planting both of his hands on my shoulders. “I swear to you, this isn’t the diary I gave you. If he knows this, he has to be behind whoever switched the journals out because that’s the only explanation for what’s happened here.” He speaks slowly, like he’s scared of making me skittish, but I nod, believing him.

I’m never writing in a diary ever again.

Never. Ever. Ever.

“But if he knows this,” I murmur, despair threatening to drag me under, but Tatum snaps me out of it as he grabs my chin and tilts my face to his.

“We’ll figure it out.” He says it with such certainty, so confidently, that it’s impossible to disagree.

But acknowledging his innocence also brings to light my lack of trust and unwarranted finger pointing. “I’m so sorry,” I rasp, and he wraps me in his arms, rocking me from side to side.

“Don’t be sorry, Polaris. Never be sorry. Not for this. Not when someone is violating your privacy. It’s not okay.”

I nod into his shoulder, taking a few calming breaths, and I can’t help but notice the fact that the usual guilt that would consume me doesn’t come. Instead, my breathing mellows out,my heartbeat calms to a normal rate, and I’m no longer lost to my emotions.

Leaning back, I look into Tatum’s eyes. “What do we do now?”

“We don’t do anything until you’re fully calmed down,” he states, and I roll my eyes.

“I actually am calm,” I insist, and he cocks a brow at me.

“Figuring this out isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to be really shit, and honestly, it’s going to look like we’re doing nothing about it, but we are. I promise.” I frown at him, confused with his train of thought as he continues. “Step one is going to involve you continuing to write in that damn thing,” he states, and I start to shake my head, but he quickly cuts me off. “Polaris, we want them to think that you don’t know.”

I freeze. “Oh.”

A soft smile curls the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, oh. So, are we going to discuss what actually went down so we can figure it out? Together this time,” he clarifies, and I nod.

Wordlessly, he takes my hand as he kicks his shoes off. Positioning himself in the center of the bed, he maneuvers me around so I lay alongside him with my head resting on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat thump beneath me. It’s distracting and calming all at once.

He runs his fingers through my hair, and I practically melt into him. I’m in a complete zen state when he finally speaks. “What did Whitmore say?”

“That I shouldn’t be anywhere near you guys,” I admit, my gut clenching at the reminder of his words, and Tatum sighs.

“Of course he did.” He drags his free hand down his face, but draws me in tighter with his arm around my shoulders.

“Why would the head of Trinity Falls Academy even comment on something like that?” I ask, that single fact confusing me more than anything.

I can’t understand why he wants information from my diary to begin with. I don’t really write about anything exciting as it is. It’s usually about me being lost or confused over boys. Sure, this information is delicate, but why insist on knowing my thoughts with the switched journal. It doesn’t make sense, and it certainly doesn’t explain why he pulled me into his office to discuss it. If I hadn’t been openly involved at the fight last night, would that have made a difference?

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