Page 64 of The Tomorrows After You
My soul felt like it had been torn from my body. I pictured Katie going pale when the last video ran and I fuckingknewshehadsomething to do with it. Iknewhewasthe one to blame.He’dbeen the one to record us having sex without my knowledge. But whywasit always other women whohadto weaponize it?
A hollowness consumed me. Humiliation consumed me. Not from the video. I can wholeheartedly admit I had sex with the guy. I wasn’t ashamed of that. I was ashamed that I had, for just a moment, let myself feel the glow of appreciation. I had let my guard down and thought maybe I could find a comfortable existence here.
The video had been leaked months ago. I was foolish to think it hadn’t made its way here. His mother had been the one to leak it. She was pissed I had dethroned her son after he’d been voted mayor and her last act of vengeance was to try to discredit me. To paint me as nothing more than a scorned ex-lover.
Well, she was wrong. I was pissed he created video evidence of it, yes, but we were grown-ass adults. Releasing the video had backfired. Easton was a big city in New England. It was progressive, and no one shamed women for enjoying sex.
They did, however, villainize her son even worse. The videowasaggressive. Heenjoyedinflictingpain, and to top it off, hehadrecordedit all without my consent. So, all in, Mommy Dearest’s attempt to paint me as a promiscuous harlot onlymadeher son look more like the vicious animal hewas.
IleftEaston because the videohadbackfiredtoo well.I didn’t get death threats or harsh messages of criticism. But I did get a lot of calls. From women’s groups. From lawyers. From media. They allwantedme to go on record for an exclusive story. They allwantedme to raise my flag of attack and help pioneer the movement for harsher punishments when itcameto revenge porn andrecordingwithout consent.Your story could help thousands of women down the road!they’dsaid.
Iwasa feminist, sure. I would always uphold that women shouldhavethe same respect as men. But Ihadno interest in being a martyr for the rest of my life. The idea of being the next poster girl for revenge pornnauseatedme.
Itwasinevitable theleakedsex tape would make its way intosomeof the men’s inboxes, but Ihadthought, orhoped, that it would be too scandalous to share amongst the wholesome townsfolk of Godot. Outside Jacob’s frequent internet searches, no onehadmentionedanything.
Therewasplenty of gossip about why Iwasback, why Iwaslivingat Riot’s house. Even a little about my defunct television career. Ihadlulledmyself into a false sense of security,thinkingI could escapethe latest black mark on my record.
But here Iwas, once again,strippedbare of all my confidence and pride,watchingRiot hold a hand out to me like some tiny beacon of light in an unkind darkness. The rowboat hestoodinlookeda hundred years old. Itcreakedandappearedas if it would disintegrate when ithitthe water.
Butlookinginto his eyes, those blue stoic beams of reassurance, Iwasremindedthat Riotwasone of the most steadfast humansI’devermet. If hewasconfident in the strength of the wooden boat, I could be too.
So, without another moment’s hesitation, Islidmy fingers into the palm of his warm, capable hand andsteppedinto the boat. Hepushedus off with brute strength and I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming his upper arms,flexingunderneath the flimsy cotton t-shirt thatclungto histannedskin.
A warmthspreadthrough my lower abdomen and how the fuck could I beturnedon at a time like this? I didn’thavethe energy to overthink it or fight it. Iwasjustpleasedto feel something other than the gut-wrenchingdisappointment with this entire day.
Riot dipped one arm into the water and fished around. He pulled up a thick, algae-ridden rope that was tied to a tree trunk on the shore and extended to a strip of land a few hundred feet away. The sunlight glinted off the water that sparkled on his skin. Without a word, he started pulling us across.
“When we were kids, we used to take boats over to this little island to party.” His soothing voice cut through the silence of the early evening. “For some reason, we thought because it was only accessible by boat it would be harder to bust up the parties. Back then we didn’t know water carries voices like a microphone.” He shook his head foolishly. “We used to come over here to drink and there were a few clowns who thought it was funny to throw the oars in the water, stranding us.” Riot gazed back at me, rolling his eyes at the memory. “It used to set Brennan off.”
“Brennancameto the parties with you?”My voicewasweak and my throat dry but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
Riot paused, eyeing me over, he nodded. “Yeah, a few times. But he couldn’t swim.” He was silent for a beat. “Brennan hated the water and I’m pretty sure they hid the oars just to mess with him so we’d all have to swim across.” Riot’s expression darkened briefly. “So, Brennan and I came down here one morning and bolted this rope into the trees and hid a few blow-up floaties around the island so there was always a safe way to get back home.”
Riot’s lipspressedinto a thin, elusive smile and the warmth it createdinside my bodycaughtme off guard.
He was trying to distract me from what happened at the carnival. Normally, I’d hate being tip-toed around, but Riot didn’t make it feel that way. He wasn’t treating me like I was glass. He caught me staring at his mouth. I dropped my eyes.
“It’s kind how you take care ofyour brother,”Isaid.
His gaze lingered on me. “He’s my family. We’re all we’ve got.”
We settled back into a comfortable silence, watching the surrounding water, listening to the birds and gentle lapping of the water before the boat hit the other side with a jolt and slid up on land. He led me up a small hill where the land leveled out and the view made my breath come up short.
The far sideoverlookedthe seemingly endless valley where the suncontinuedto plunge, beingpulleddown into the deep crevice of the land. The lightsank, as if drowning, butcontinuedtocasta warm glow on the never-endingvalley. Ifoundit amazing how something as big and powerful as the sun could look so helpless,sinkingdeeper into the nadir.
Riot stopped walking and slid the backpack off his shoulder. He pulled out a small blanket and let it float to the forest floor before plopping down on top of it.
Without a word, he stuck his hand back into the bag and pulled out a flask. His calloused hands twisted the top off. He took a small pull from it, wincing as he swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed on his neck and I felt it between my ribs. Maybe it was the view. Or maybe it was just the day I had, but every motion he made was sensual. He held the flask up in offering without looking at me.
Isatdown next to him. The blanketwassmall and our thighsbrushedagainst each other. Ibroughtmy knees to my chest, taking a long draw of the liquid. Icoughedas the whiskey burned going down. A chuckleescapedRiot’s throat. Ithrewa scowl in his direction and his ensuing laughterwasoddly comforting.
A long breath that I’d been holding for weeks escaped my throat. I let my shoulder press against his, handing the flask back. When he didn’t move away, my whole body inhaled the small warmth of his upper arm. I flashed back to that one impassioned kiss, and I remembered how quickly I had lost control of my body when it was wrapped around his.
“Got any more stories about this place?” I asked, eager for a distraction from my wandering thoughts.
“Do I…” Riotgrinned.
Ihadtears in my eyes. Happy fucking tears. Tears of laughter and I didn’t care my mascarawasrunning, listening to Riot’s story about the rope swing thatusedto dangle between the island and the mainland.
