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“Hey, Avery, you okay?” Brit asked.
I forced a nod, but I wasn’t okay. The garage was shifting again—all the costumes and the sounds amplified. Pressure clamped down on my chest. The smell of beer, perfume, and sweat clouded the air. I took a breath, but it didn’t seem like enough.
“I need fresh air,” I told Brit, pulling free.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. No, I’m fine. Stay here.” I didn’t want to ruin her night. “I’m okay. Really. I just need some fresh air.”
Brit relented with a little more coaxing, and I hurried out of the garage, feeling like a hundred eyes were on my back even though I knew probably no one was looking.
Cool air lifted the damp hair off my neck, but I didn’t really feel it. I didn’t stop. I kept walking, my hands opening and closing at my sides. I was by my car before I realized it. Digging my keys out of my pocket, I got in behind the wheel.
Hands shaking, I pressed them against my face. Oh God, I could still feel his hands—not the drunk guy’s but Blaine’s. I could hear him whispering in my ear, feel him behind me and the pressure…. Throwing my head back against the headrest, I squeezed my eyes shut. “No. I’m not doing this.”
The words seemed to echo in the car and were thrown back in my face, because I was doing this. I was doing exactly what I shouldn’t do.
I couldn’t go back in there, not for my friends or for my hoodie.
Shoving the keys into the ignition, I eased my car out from between two cars. I don’t even know how I got home. I didn’t remember anything from the ride, just that I was standing in the middle of my apartment, trying to catch my breath.
I made it to the hallway before I slid down the wall, bringing my knees against my chest. I curled up, thrusting my hands into my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the tears snuck free, spilling down my cheeks.
There was no doubt in my mind that I had screwed up—I’d overreacted. The guy at the party had been obnoxiously grabby, but I had overreacted. I’d let the past distort what had been really happening. I’d panicked and Cam almost got into a fight over it.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, pulling my hair back. I couldn’t do it. I’d tried and I had turned a good time into an epic fail. What was wrong with me?
There were several valid answers to that—a lot was wrong. Not breaking news there but this… I had wanted so badly for tonight to be good, for tonight to be that extra push in the right direction, whatever direction that was. A sob rose and I clamped my jaw shut until my molars ached. Instead, I was here, back to where I started.
#
The throbbing in my head had increased until it felt like the entire apartment was pounding right along with it. Wincing, I opened my eyes and realized I was where I’d sat down, in the hall and my entire body ached. I’d fallen asleep, maybe for an hour or two.
And the thumping wasn’t just in my head—it was on my door.
I pushed off the floor, hurrying to the door in a haze. I was so out of it I didn’t even check to see who it was.
Cam barreled through the door and I was against his chest before I processed what was happening. Strong arms swept around me and his hand came up, cradling the back of my head. I inhaled deeply, drawing in the faint scent of cologne and alcohol.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, his hand fisting in my hair. “Why haven’t you answered your damn phone?”
“I left my phone in the car, I think.” My voice was muffled against his chest.
He swore again as he pulled back. His hands went to my cheeks, holding me in place in a way that didn’t trigger dark memories. “I’ve been blowing up your phone—so have Jacob and Brittany.”
“I’m sorry.” I blinked slowly. “I didn’t—”
“You’ve been crying.” His eyes narrowed until only a thin strip of blue showed in both. “You’ve been fucking crying.”
“No, I haven’t.” The lie sounded lame.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” he demanded. When I shook my head, he dropped his hands and closed the door behind him. He then took my hand. A muscle ticked along his jaw and when he spoke his voice was hard. “Come on.”
I let him pull me into the hallway bathroom. When he flipped on the overhead light, I winced and then I saw myself in the mirror. “Oh God…”
My eyes were puffy and red, but it was the streaks of black mascara that truly cemented the fact that my first attempt at attending a party in five years had not ended well. My gaze met Cam’s in the mirror and embarrassment swamped me. I dropped my head in my hands and muttered, “Perfect—just perfect.”
“It’s not that bad, sweetheart.” His voice softened as his hands settled on my upper arms. He gently pulled my hands. “Sit down.”
