Page 98 of Ecstasy
“Why the hell are you suddenly acting like you care about what happened to her? She died, like, a month ago, and you haven’t given a single fuck.”
My chest feels hot with his words, because they’re true. Because I’ve spent the past three weeks in a drug-induced haze, like I’ve spent the past six months. The past three years, if I’m being honest with myself.
Because I’ve been so caught up in my own shit I haven’t cared about Rihanna Martinson. About a girl drowning in a pool because she was so fucking drunk because she was so upset over a boy that didn’t give a damn about her.
It happens all the time, girls dying over boys. Literally, figuratively, at their hands or not. It happens far too often, and no one cares. No one cares, and I wasn’t an exception.
It could’ve been me.
Eli told me I’ve been sleepwalking. I know as much myself.
That could’ve been me in that pool.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have anything to say.
“Whatever, Za. Don’t act like you suddenly grew a fucking heart.” He snorts. “It’s just like you to fucking deflect. Rihanna kissed me on the goddamn cheek, and you sucked Jamal’s dick.”
As if I don’t remember. I mean, it wasn’t my finest moment. But it’s what we do. We hurt each other. Get pissed. Do it again. Make up. It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s our entire relationship. So maybe I took it a little too far. It’s not like the precedent hadn’t been set early on.
And besides, Alex isn’t an angel.
“What happened?” I ask him, keeping my tone even. This is why I’m really angry. Because I need to know. I deserve to know.But I stay calm, because if I start flying off the handle about this, he won’t tell me. “What happened at that party? Tell me why people are saying you were involved in some sort of rape scandal. I want to hear the whole story.”
He’s oddly quiet for a long moment.
I don’t like it.
But finally, he says, “I don’t know.”
I twist my hands in my lap, unease stealing through me. “You don’t know?”
I hear him exhale, his eyes on the road as we drive through the night. “I was really drunk. I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. You have to give me something more than that, Alex.”
He sighs. “I went to a house party with Eli. I woke up with a black eye, busted knuckles, and a police officer in my face.” I see him shrug, keeping both hands on the wheel. “Apparently, some girl I’d never met before in my life told the cops I was trying to, like, force myself on her, or some shit.”
I hold my breath. Waiting.
“But she didn’t press charges. She didn’t—It went nowhere. She was as drunk as I was.”
I think about how big Alex is. How it would be impossible for me to fight him off. “How did she get away?” I ask, finally exhaling. Inhaling. Trying to act normal. It was a mistake. It was a crazy night.
I’ve had my share of those.
“I don’t know,” he says again.
“Who was she?”
He shrugs again. “Weren’t you listening? I said I’d never seen her before in my life. Some girl that went to Caven.” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “She doesn’t anymore though,” he adds quietly.
“Why?” I ask, my throat so dry, my question comes out rough.
“She transferred after that.”
“You really don’t know?” I ask him again, whispering in the car.
He’s quiet a long moment and then he just says, “No. Eli was there, too. You should know that. Eli was there.”
