Page 35 of Dirty Roulette
“I got mad.” He runs a sweaty palm through his hair and falls against the wall.
“You’re always mad. I should just tell security what happened.” I reach for the doorknob, but Ryder tugs on my cheer top, pulling me back. A weight presses on my chest, robbing me of breath.
“I can handle it.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me to pay attention to him.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”
“Payton... listen...” Ryder grabs me by the cheek and presses his lips on my mouth. His tongue laps with mine for only a few seconds and he leaves me with the faint taste of copper as he pulls away. “You can’t go to security, you can’t go to the board. Nothing we do will stop his game. There are no rules to the internet, there aren’t any laws in place. You played the game, he took the pictures. If you don’t want them online, we do what he says.”
“What?”
“Before summer, he agreed he wouldn’t put Charlie through the hazing game, but that agreement didn’t include you. He lied to me. I’m sorry...”
“You stood up for me?”
“I know you don’t want to do this...” His sweaty forehead leans on mine, and his hands tremble. “I have to go, I’m sorry...” One hand brushes around the crease of my neck, and he kisses me hard.
“Wait!” I open my eyes, but he’s gone. He left the janitor’s closet without an answer.
Today proves I’ll undoubtedly fail at college life. I wait several minutes and slip out of the closet and into the crowded hallway. Charlie links arms with me shortly after and then drags me into the girls’ locker room. I’m a little sick of being dragged into places, but at least it smells a million times better here than the men’s. There is some fruitiness wafting in the air, and the floral shampoo mixes with the steam of the showers.
“You have some nerve.” She rolls her eyes in annoyance.
“Let me explain” I halt and look Charlie dead in the eyes. I run a jerky hand through my hair as I watch the sea of cheerleaders swarming in and out. Lockers jimmy open. Giggles and screaming bounce around at every corner. “I barged into the men’s locker room this morning, and I messed up. I’m sorry.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlie wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers, “Care to explain why?”
The ache plunders my gut. Ryder. Me. Kissing. The humiliation of the videos might be on her phone too. I lost my mind earlier today. My stomach swirls in circles, and I can barf at any second. I shrug her off and tremble all over as I reach my locker, staring at the lock dial.
“Are you not going to say anything?” She holds out her palms.
“Brody sent me the pictures he took. I thought he was going to post them online.” I bite my tongue with the words coming out because it’s going to lead to the conversation of who I landed on, who the bottle picked.
“So instead of ignoring him, you make a scene in the men’s locker room? There are videos of you beating him up! It’s on every other reel I’m scrolling through online,” she says, and it comes off colder than I expected. The embarrassment is written all over her body. “You aregoing to make people really think you’re from a trailer home acting unhinged like that.”
“You made me play that stupid game. No one bothers to stand up to him. I’m not going to sit back and let him walk all over me like that,” I argue.
“You could have talked to me before hosting your own Jerry Springer show.” She leans against the lockers, with her head hitting the metal, her eyes staring up at the ceiling coated with a layer of steam.
“What happened between you and my brother, then?”
My heartbeat hammers in my ears.
“Nothing.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. My demons dance around me holding hands and singing kumbaya enjoying the lie leaking off my tongue. “I got wet, and he lent me his gym clothes.”
Charlie puckers her lips together, props her foot against the lockers, and folds her arms. She’s pissed. “There is something you are not telling me? What is it?”
How do I spin this without spilling out the entire truth and ruining our friendship?
“I’ll spare you the trouble and I can move out of the dorm. You don’t deserve me being a shitty friend.” I turn my back, twisting the lock and putting in the combination I’ve memorized since the sixth grade, and still get it wrong with my fingertips shaking. I yank on it, huffing, and try again.
“Wait what? I never said you need to move out!” Her eyes shake. I manage to open my locker and it clunks against the metal. “So, you’re going to act like a baby and leave because you don’t like what you hear. You can’t run away from your problems.”
The weight in my heart is heavier than my backpack crammed in the tiny locker. I’m yanking it out and it plops to the floor.
“I’m a shitty friend!”
“No, you aren’t. Where is this coming from? I just want you to tell me the truth about what happened.”
