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Sawyer leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead. That was it; I knew I’d get nothing else from him. I also knew if I didn’t get up on that chair and put that noose around my neck, someone else would do it for me.
No, thank you. I’d do it myself, and make these three watch. That’s all they ever did anyway. So full of hateful words, and yet when it came down to it, they were nothing but chickens. Nothing but scaredy-cats. They thought they’d seen the worst life had to offer and lived? They were wrong.
Declan, Travis, and Sawyer—they hadn’t seen what I had. They didn’t know what I knew. They were so innocent compared to me, even if one of them had hung Sabrina. The truth was…the truth was that I was so much worse.
I got on the chair. I grabbed the rope hanging in front of me. I pushed my neck through the noose, meeting gazes with each of the three men in front of me. Men, that’s what they were. Not boys. None of them had the rounded faces of teenage boys. None of them had acne. They were men, plain and simple, and I’d fallen for their pretty-faced lies.
Which one of them spoke the truth? Which was a liar? It didn’t matter, not anymore, because I was about to pay the price.
My eyes roamed to the window on the side of the room. I could’ve sworn I saw someone standing there, a fourth person, but by the time I glanced up, they were gone. It was just me and the three men, my three unrequited crushes…and the noose. If I was honest, and the truth was I very rarely totally honest, I would say this was how I imagined my death all along, except it would’ve been at the hands of one particular man who wasn’t here. A man I refused to think about, for I’d left him in my past.
This was it.
I pushed off the chair, feeling the rope snag itself tighter around my throat.
I woke to a pitch-black room, unable to catch my breath. My lungs wouldn’t work, and my heart was racing. Sweat coated my body, and my arms flew up, touching my neck. Noose free, but that didn’t mean I’d be able to breathe, apparently.
I tumbled out of bed, landing as quietly as I could so as to not wake Declan. Hard to do, given the fact that I just couldn’t seem to fulfill my body’s need to breathe. My feet stumbled as I went into the bathroom, waiting until I had the door closed before I flipped on the lights. I was over the toilet the next moment, wanting to heave, to throw it all up and never think of it again. Never dream anything like that again.
I liked to think of myself a sane, normal person…but there were times when I really wondered. Who the hell would ever have a dream like that? Hanging myself? I wasn’t one to glorify suicide. Never thought about doing it once in my life, even when I was at my lowest low, even when I realized what shitstorm I volunteered to walk into.
Everyone who saw me might think I was well put together, but I wasn’t. Deep down, I was just as fucked up as all the guys around me. Sawyer, Declan, Travis? They had nothing on me. Nothing. These rich boys played a game they weren’t prepared to lose.
But that was the thing: you don’t play the game if you aren’t willing to lose it all.
My fingers curled around the edges of the toilet seat, my breathing slowing, my teeny panic attack almost over. One month into the semester, two months out, and I was here to succeed. I wouldn’t let anything or anyone get in my way, not even myself.
As I stared at the clear water in the toilet, a soft knock echoed from the door. “Ash,” Declan’s voice was groggy, like he was still half-asleep. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I croaked, wincing at the sound of my own voice. Unconfident and totally shaky. An idiot with ears would know I wasn’t fine, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist. I wanted him to leave me alone, so I could sort through my mind in peace, but he didn’t.
Of course he didn’t. Why would he? It would make things too easy if he simply left me alone like I wanted.
Declan pushed inside the bathroom, squinting as he came in. He slowly knelt beside me, setting a hand on my back, rubbing it in gentle circles. “Sick?” he asked.
“No,” I muttered, tearing my gaze away from the toilet. When I met his eyes, I was ready to tell him it was nothing—I refused to tell him it all stemmed from a bad dream, because how juvenile it would sound—but the moment I gazed into his dark, chocolatey stare, I couldn’t form whole thoughts. Mostly because he was shirtless.
Did he always sleep without a shirt on? I never noticed before, mostly because when I got up in the morning, Declan was usually buried under all his blankets, only the top of his head above them.
It was a nice chest. No, wait. Better than nice. Flat, not too muscled, but defined in all the ways that counted. Faint outlines of squares on his abdomen, a smooth chest that looked so inviting, more welcoming than my pillow. I wanted to touch it, to see if he was as soft and inviting as he looked.
So I did.
It was because my brain was frazzled and I was completely out of it—I never made good decisions when I was freaked out—but I did it all the same. I did it while knowing I shouldn’t. I moved a hand to his chest, just above his collarbone, dragging it down to his stomach. So warm. So smooth.
Declan didn’t pull away from me, but his eyes closed a bit, and his breathing became ragged. “Ash,” he murmured. “What are you…” Even he couldn’t ask the question, because it was more than obvious what I was doing.
I was touching him, leaning into him, pressing myself into his body much like he had that night after the party. “Can I sleep with you?” I whispered. Not once in my life had I ever asked to sleep with someone, and this time I really meant sleep. Not sex. Childish as I was being right now, I felt better with him near me. After everything…I think I had the right to be childish every now and then.
“Uh” was all he said at first, then after a while, “Sure.”
Together we stood, heading back into the dark room. I followed him to his bed, climbing inside. Under the covers, the blankets were still warm with his body heat. It was, quite frankly, one of the best things in the world.
Declan crawled in behind me, pulling the blankets over us. He left a good space between us, as much as he could without falling off the twin-sized bed, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I reached behind me, found his arm, and tugged him closer. He’d spoon me all night even if I had to force him to.
My heart still thundered in my chest, and I did my best to ignore it. Leftover from the nightmare, or a rapid heartbeat because of Declan’s closeness? I wore a tank top and shorts, so I could feel a lot of his bare skin on mine. It wasn’t the worst thing to feel.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Declan asked, his head right behind mine. Though he whispered it, he was so close to me, it sounded like he’d spoken at full volume. If I moved my head back, I’d give him a nasty headbutt. He held onto me gingerly, as if he was afraid of holding me closer to him. As long as he held me, I didn’t care.
