Page 118 of Stroke of Fate

“What the hell are you guys saying?” I seethe, curling my hands into fists as my body shakes.

“Nothing,” Austin says quickly, but it becomes clear when he says, “It’s just that you weren’t with Bear in the room, but you weren’t alone either.”

My eyes dart between my three friends, all wearing the same look of concern. “Don’t you dare say I cheated on her.”

“Levi, calm down.” Mack steps closer, clapping a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

“Calm down?” I shout. “You’re telling me I’m here because I ditched my girlfriend—the girl I love—for a drunk hookup?”

The words alone cause my chest to cave in.

No one says anything, but I can see it in their faces. That’s precisely what they think happened.

“No,” I shake my head frantically, but all it does is rattle my brain inside my head, and the pain is so intense I have to breathe through my nose to stop myself from throwing up. “I don’t know what happened last night, but it wasn’t that,” I say once I’m confident my stomach won’t fail me.

Because it couldn’t be that, but if it was…

No. I know myself. Drunk or sober, fucking up the best thing that’s happened to me isn’t a possibility. Bear’s the only girl I see in my present and future. The past isn’t even worth looking at, knowing she wouldn’t be there. Ever.

I grab my phone, which thankfully is charged enough to power on. The screen floods with texts from our group chat asking me where I am.

I see a missed call from Bear and two text messages. The first asks where I am, and the second tells me they’re leaving.

After that, nothing. Not a single text or call.

The lack of communication makes my heart sink.

I call her, but she doesn't pick up, and my texts go unanswered. I dial Macy’s number next, but she doesn’t answer either.

“Does anyone have Elsie or Pia’s number?” I ask, desperation bleeding from every word.

I rest my elbows on the dresser and drop my forehead into my hands, closing my eyes in an attempt to get a handle on my emotions. I’m not about to break down right now. There’s still a chance this is some fucked-up misunderstanding.

“Yeah,” Sam speaks up. “I’ll text Elsie.”

“Levi, are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

Taking a deep breath, I turn to Austin.

“Yes, everything is muddled up here,” I tap my temple. “I don’t even remember drinking to the point of getting drunk.”

“Sometimes they mix that shitty beer they use for beer pong with hard liquor to make it taste better,” Mack says. “Even I felt tipsy after four beers.”

He felt tipsy, yet I blacked out. Something isn’t adding up.

“What did I say when you found me?” I don’t even know if I want to hear it, but I need to know.

“Nothing that made sense. It was just a bunch of incoherent sentences. You fell asleep and stayed that way when we got in the car.”

When Sam’s phone pings, my eyes dart to his.

“Elsie says, and I’m paraphrasing because there’s a lot of cussing happening.” His eyes meet mine momentarily before dropping back to the phone. “Bear is upset over a video that was sent to her.”

I stop breathing long enough for my lungs to burn, and I’m forced to inhale. “What sort of video?”

“No idea, but I’ll ask.” He types again.

The minutes we wait for her response feel like torture. Any hope that this is a misunderstanding is slowly slipping through my fingers.

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