Page 15 of Daring You

“You’re not a dare. You were never—”

“Here’s the thing. I’m well aware of what you guys do, since my brother is a part of it, and your disgusting point system that comes with it. Fuck TA’s. Fuck Professors. Fuck ugly girls.”

I rush forward. “Astor, that’s not what this was.”

She retreats, as if my very proximity repulses her. “I don’t believe Locke had anything to do with this. He wouldn’t do that. Not to me.”

“Locke didn’t,” I say. “Because this wasn’t—”

“But Dodge? I know how he’s trying to get in with you guys. How you enjoy initiating people who think they can be part of your ridiculous, twisted game ring. I can see Ash putting you up to something like this.”

“Ash had nothing to do with it. They have nothing to do with this. Dodge is sick in the head—”

At last, she lays eyes on me, but they’re flat. Emotionless. “Did Dodge ask you to screw me in order for you to gain something?”

I hesitate.

“Tell me the truth, Ben.”

“He has something on me,” I admit, but follow up in a rush, “But I refused. I’d never put you in that kind of position—”

“But you did,” she chokes out. Goddammit, her eyes shine with tears. “You put me in that exact position, and now there’s a picture of it.”

“You deleted it,” I say dumbly. The time she spent tapping on Marcia’s phone before tossing it could only be because she’s quick enough to do something like that.

“It’s called the cloud for a reason, asshole,” she spits, the tears doing nothing to snuff out the fire building underneath her cheeks. “You did it. Congratulations. You humiliated Acne Hayes. You can ascend to whatever throne you fuckers give yourselves. You’re nothing but college assholes, you know that? None of this shit flies in real life, so get your rocks off now before you’re seen as the pathetic, former boy wonders who couldn’t grow up and treat women with respect if we cut your balls off.”

For once, I’m at a loss for words, at the exact point I need them the most. “Please, Astor. If we could sit down, I can explain.”

“What does he have on you?” She looks me dead in the eye when she asks it.

My mouth works, but fuck that fucker Dodge, I can’t tell her the truth.

She slumps, and I hear the crack of her heart as if it had sound. “You won’t even tell me that much.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I try saying. “It’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

“Let me simplify it for you then,” Astor says. She clutches the sheet tighter around her chest. “I’m not going to tell Locke about this, because he’d kill you if he knew. And if anyone’s going to murder you, it’ll be me. So get the hell out and don’t come back.”

“Astor—”

“Get out!” she screams, so loud and sharply, her voice breaks under the pressure.

Staying here hurts her further. Filling up the space in the room with useless excuses only steals the little oxygen we have left. But what would help? What could stop this becoming so much worse? My leaving her alone. For good.

Astor has it all wrong, but she’s come to the right conclusion.

I nod, turning away from her as I do it. I can’t stand looking into those shattered eyes of hers anymore.

“I’m sorry, Astor.”

“Fuck you.”

Her breaths are the last sound I hear, increasing in speed and sound as I open the door, and unleashed as a sob as soon as I shut it.

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