Page 126 of The Friend Zone

He’s so fucking right.

The stress of the past week, moving across the country to a new school, has the best of me. I threw myself into the rush process and into my first classes, and I didn’t give myself the chance to take stock of my emotions.

I was so caught up in my objectives, in the effort of starting college like a boss, that I lowered my guard.

Tears come in hot and fast. I hate myself for crying in front of a stranger; but there’s a lump in my throat and I feel as if my heart and my head were about to explode. “I’m so sorry,” I sob.

Topher’s eyes are wide, his expression utterly terrified. He extends one hand toward me, but he stops just short of touching me. “No, Bay. Please don’t cry. You’re safe now. What can I—Can I hug you? I swear I’m not going to try anything. I just want to hold you, to make you feel better. Please?”

I nod, sobbing harder. I’ve just met Topher and yet he’s here to comfort me. To protect me.

He holds me tight, true to his word. His hands never stray from around my shoulders. He never tries to do anything other than murmuring soothing words, his breath brushing the top of my head.

I cry for what feels like an eternity. When I’m done, my eyes are stinging. I can only imagine how I must look in yesterday’s crumpled clothes and with makeup that was applied before I went to the party.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for looking out for me, Topher.” I say, putting some space between us. I avoid looking at him, slightly embarrassed by everything that’s happened.

“I’m just glad you’re ok,” Topher says softly, lifting my chin with gentle fingers. “Do you know what I think? You need some coffee and to put some food in your stomach. I would love to take you out for breakfast. I’m hungry too.”

My stomach growls and I flinch. “I—I guess. I can’t go out this way, though. I’m sure I look terrible.”

Topher tucks a lock of my tangled hair behind my ear. “Bay, there’s no way you could ever look anything but beautiful. Listen, I need to shower and to get out of last night’s clothes too. How about I come back to get you in about one hour? In the meantime, you can make up your mind if you want to go straight to breakfast, or if you want to go to the ER and get checked.”

I shake my head. I’m alive and a part of me doesn’t want to see a toxicology report. That would make this whole nightmare feel more real. Besides, if my parents saw the insurance statement, they would freak out.

“No. I’m ok. Breakfast sounds good. But you don’t have to take me if you don’t want to, or if you’re busy today.”

Topher takes my hand, squeezing it in a comforting gesture. “But I want to. I want to make sure you’re ok, Bay. Look, I want to be honest with you. Last night, I was planning to ask you out after we danced and maybe talked a little more. I never had the chance. Can we make this a trial date? We have breakfast and hopefully by the time I pay the check, I’ll have convinced you to let me take you out to dinner?”

I smile. “I would like that.”

The rest, like they say, is history.

CHAPTER 25

LIKE AL CAPONE

COLE

Silence descends into the presidential suite.

The haunted look in Bay’s eyes breaks my fucking heart and pisses me off at the same time.

“He put a fucking roofie in your drink when he was watering it down,” Ryker finally bites out. “We’re all thinking that. Right?”

I know I’m thinking that, and by the look on Jagger’s face, so is he, but what matters is what Bay is thinking.

She looks at the ziplock bag on the bed as if the medication style bottles inside could leap out and bite her. “Yes, but…” she speaks slowly, struggling to accept the painful truth. “It doesn’t add up.”

Ryker’s jaw ticks, but he keeps his cool. “I’ve been doing the fucking math over and over in my head, Cinnamon. And I don’t see any other possible results.”

Bay shakes her head, twisting her hands in her lap. The fabric of my t-shirt rides up, exposing the creamy skin of her thighs. At any other moment, the sight of that would have made me want to pull her onto my lap and find out if my t-shirt looks just as good on the floor; but this isn’t the time.

“There are a few things I don’t understand,” Bay says, looking at each of us. “First off, we shared the same drink. Wouldn’t he be affected by the roofie too? And I was right there when he poured it into a different cup and then added the lemonade and more ice.”

I know she’s struggling to accept that someone she dated for years, a man she trusted with her secrets and with her body, could betray her that way.

I choose my words really carefully. “Did you actually see him drink? Or did he just stand next to you, holding a cup?”

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