Page 25 of Escaping Our Reality

“Go ahead and ask me. I know you want to.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Lulu. I already told you I like you when you get to the point.”

I give in to his demand without fighting. “Would you have slept with her? If she hadn’t been under the influence, would you have had sex with my sister?”

His stare is so dark and intense it makes my heart race in my chest. My palms break into a cold sweat. I hate the feeling. And I also like it. Really like it. I feel more alive with Ry than I have since Carrie disappeared.

I feel more alive with him than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

His voice cuts through the air like a knife. “I wish I could say no, but I can’t. I don’t know what would have happened. But I have never slept with any girl who has been drunk or high. And I don’t ever plan to.”

Well, that statement opens up the door to so many unanswered questions. Does he exclusively hang out with impaired women? How many girls has he slept with who haven’t been drunk or high? Does he have a disease?

And shoveling a few feet deeper down this different rabbit hole, I wonder if he thinks I’m beautiful like Carrie? Does he wanna kiss me? Sleep with me? Touch me?

Accepting my silence, he stokes the fire and leans back in his seat.

I reach back, rubbing my scar in thought. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Who knows. I rub until my skin is raw. Slapping my hand in my lap, I ask him another question. “So, what are your plans after this school year?”

“I don’t know. My degree will be in General Studies so, I guess, I’ve left the door open for a lot of stuff.” He turns to me. “What about you?”

“I’m supposed to start at the University of Virginia. Architecture.”

“You like architecture?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

Avoiding the question, I stand up. Embarrassment is better than talking about architecture and the future my parents have outlined for me. I loudly announce, “I need to use the restroom.”

Ry leads me over to the lit pathway, reaching into one of the storage containers to hand me a roll of toilet paper.

I can’t believe I’m about to pee in the woods.

Before I head back into camp, I pull out my phone to check the time, firing off a quick text message to Hudson, telling him that I won’t be meeting everyone for the late movie.

Ry’s still standing there when I walk back. I notice he placed a blanket on my chair, paying attention to the temperature drop that’s happened over the past hour. “Wash your hands?” He holds up a gallon of the distilled bottled water and a pump bottle of hand soap. Laying my phone down on the top of a storage container, I hold out my hands while he squirts soap into my palms and then rinses the bubbles away with water. Right then, my phone beeps and lights up with a text message on my home screen.

Hudson: What do you mean you’re not coming to the movie? What are you doing?

Ry sees it. And reads it. He doesn’t even hide it.

Pulling open the doors to the storage container, he puts the stuff back where it belongs and secures it. I’m flapping my hands around to air dry them. He grabs the edge of his long-sleeve T-shirt from where he haphazardly half-tucked it into his belted jeans. “Here. Dry.”

I know he has towels and paper towels. I saw them last night. So, why is he offering me his T-shirt?

Who cares? I sure as hell don’t.

I twist my hands in the blue fabric, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth when my fingertips brush against the taut skinof his abdomen. The unread text message beeps again, and I quickly grab my phone.

“Movies? With the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I shake my head. What an absurd notion. “I was supposed to meet some people for a late movie if I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“Friends?”

“They aren’t my friends. They’re just classmates.”

He cocks his head to the side. “So, I go to parties with people who aren’t my friends. And you? You go to the movies with people who aren’t your friends.”

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