Page 109 of Brutal Prince

Briar

We drive back to school in silence while my heart pounds along to some sullen beat. I don’t know what happened back there, and I don’t like it one bit.

It felt like someone — something — else was steering me. Even when Indi pushed me away, the urge to claw her back, tear off her clothes, and claim her was so strong I almost couldn’t fight it.

But I did.

It took more than I thought I ever had in me, but I fought it.

And then I told her the truth.

Something I never thought could feel that good. But it should, right? Why the fuck haven’t I been doing it since day one?

Did you have sexual intercourse with Jessica Hamilton?

I don’t know, officer. I don’t fucking know.

But it’s not the truth, is it? It’s a thinly veiled attempt at a lie.

I know what I saw that morning when I woke up beside Jess. There’s no denying that I took her virginity. And if she didn’t consent then it’s rape.

But is it still a crime if I don’t remember doing anything? What if I slipped into some kind of a fugue state or something? Veroza would back me up on this — that shit’s real. When your brain chemistry gets unbalanced enough, shit goes down. Shit you wouldn’t remember, even under hypnosis.

But it doesn’t add up. I wasn’t mentally unbalanced. I was happy as fuck.

Fuck it, I was in love with Jessica. I used to wake feeling like the sun had risen solely to bake me in its beatific rays.

So why would I have fucked out like that? Could it have been the drugs? I’d only done coke once before, and I was on my sixth line when Marcus and I took Jess upstairs to go lie down.

My intentions had been pure, too. I wasn’t even thinking about sex. All I wanted was to get Jess somewhere quiet.

Because I was worried about her.

Why was I worried about her? She’d gotten trashed before. We both had. But something was wrong that night. Something—

“You don’t want your face to get stuck like that.”

I glance at Indi, and for a moment I have no idea what to say because my thoughts scatter away like marbles on a mirrored floor.

Her eyebrows draw together. “You okay?”

I hurriedly look back at the road. I had too many tokes on that joint — I feel woozy and lazy and fucking crazy.

And I’m rhyming. That can’t be a good sign.

I eventually get out a far from reassuring, “Sure.”

Don’t look at her. Those hypnotic eyes. That expressive mouth. Keep your eyes on the goddamn road.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

Just like Addy, with the constant questions, the nagging, non-fucking-stop. I’ve told her more than I’ve told anyone except Marcus, and she still wants more?

“Drop it,” I snap.

I catch her flinching from the corner of my eye, but I bite back the apology brimming on my lips. I’ve done months’s worth of thinking and theorizing on this shit. I’m not gonna keep giving myself grief over it.

It’s over.

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