Page 50 of Race to Me

Skyler turns on her side, flopping one of her legs out from the heavy comforter. “Hooold me.” she slurs, and I do exactly as she asks. I climb in behind her and wrap my arms around her gently.

“Why do you like me?” I ask quietly, hoping she’ll answer because this girl has flipped my world upside down in a matter of weeks. And while it’s selfish to ask, I desperately need to know.

I realize with utter certainty that I will do anything to protect her. I mean, fuck, I’m happily taking care of this girl on a Friday night instead of partying. When I ran downstairs, I threatened everyone in the house that if they make a sound, I’d beat the shit out of them.

She mumbles something, and I tilt my head forward to hear her better. “What was that?” I ask. I sound so desperate, just waiting for her to say something, any fucking thing to indicate I’m really something to her.

I can’t think about the bruises right now. If I do, I’ll kill everyone who comes in my path, and nothing is more important than making her feel comfortable right now.

“Why do you like me, Sky?” I ask once more.

“Butterflies,” she whispers to me, just before light snores escape her lips.

I don’t sleep. I can’t.

But I don’t mind, because right here in my arms, I know she’s safe from him.

Nineteen

skyler pov

Morning light filters in through the bedroom, making my head spin, and the more I try to open my eyes, the more it hurts. I search for my phone, coming up empty-handed. “Kate. What the fuck happened last night?” I groan.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.” Foster’s slightly amused tone makes my eyes shoot open. It wasn’t sunlight filtering in, it was the lamp.

My eyes pan to the window, and the sun is actually setting. Foster sits with his back against the headboard, wearing black sweatpants and no shirt. He’s looking at me intently.

“How long was I out?” I ask, thankful that it’s Saturday so I didn’t miss any classes.

He laughs. “All damn day.”

I can’t help but grin nervously. “What happened last night?”

“Well, birthday girl,” Foster hands me a bottle of water and two Motrins. “You got a bit shitfaced.”

My cheeks burn as I take the medicine, imagining what I did last night. I only remember keg stands and dancing with Kate. My hands grip on the comforter and when I peel it down, I notice that I’m not wearing Kate’s dress anymore. “Are these your boxers?” I ask, rubbing my sore head. He nods, and fear courses through me. “Oh my God, did we?”

“What?”

I lean up a little. “Have sex?” I whisper, trying to recall bits and pieces of the night before but coming up empty.

“What the fuck?” Foster scoffs. “Sky, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Then, a grin crosses his face. “Not that you didn’t try.”

“That’s what you think,” I mutter, but I also don’t know if he’s messing with me. I have never blacked out like that before.

Foster pushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Oh, you wanted it.” He grins. His eyes hold a softness to them, like a dark night sky filled with falling fog.

I fall back onto the soft pillow, groaning. “I don’t even want to know.”

He lays on his side, facing me. “So, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” I turn towards him, thankful to not be blinded by the lamp anymore. Foster is a much better view.

He looks to my hands, then to my face. “What happened to you?”

When I don’t respond, he thinks it’s because I didn’t hear him. But really, my stomach is in knots. Typically, this would be a normal question, like ‘Why did you drink so much?’ or something along those lines.

But the way his tone is calm and slow and the way his tattooed hand is sliding underneath my shirt tells me exactly why he’s asking. I rip the blanket off of me, standing up in a hurry.

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