Page 57 of Bitter Beats

So much for our first public dinner with friends. If anything, Mckenna and I are stirring up a bigger shitstorm than the one I created solo.

NINETEEN

MCKENNA

“What the hell was that?”Allegra asks as the bathroom door closes behind us.

I raise a finger to my lips to silence her. Then, I check to make sure we’re alone in the bathroom. The last thing I need is to be put on blast for confiding in my best friend. When I note the stalls are all empty, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Allegra’s looking at me with concern in her gaze. “Did you…date him?”

“Who? Branson?” Horror rolls through me.

She nods, her eyes wide and watchful.

I nearly gag. My reaction is instant and visceral, as my hand flies up to cover my mouth. Allegra steps toward me.

“Did something happen with him?” she continues, her tone gentler.

“Why would you think I’d everdatehim?” I blurt out.

Allegra shakes her head. “I don’t know. The vibe was weird. And he looks like a lawyer so…”

“He’s…Branson. Bran,” I amend, using the name our classmates and most professors call him.

“And?”

I move to the sink and flip on a faucet. Cool water runs over my wrists and my mind clears slightly. My heart rate slows. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins and filled my mouth with saliva eases. “I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s weird.”

Thoughts of that night—hazy, unclear, and frightening—flicker through my head. The pressure of Bran’s hips pinning mine in place. His hand, heavy over my mouth. Anger glinting in his beady eyes.

“What’s weird? Did he do something? Did something…happen?” Allegra presses and I startle at the sound of her voice.

My head snaps up and my eyes holds hers through the mirror’s reflection.

The compassion—the pure empathy and concern—in her expression nearly breaks my heart.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I can’t remember,” I admit quietly. It’s the first time I’ve ever alluded—out loud—that something sinister transpired between Bran and me. And yet, I can’t say anything definitively. My thoughts from that night, my memories from that time in my life, are confusing.

“Mckenna,” my friend says gently. She turns off the faucet and hands me a towel to dry my hands. It’s not a paper towel but a plush, pink hand towel. I grip it tightly and meet her eyes. “What do you remember? Why didn’t you tell me? Or?—”

“I can’t remember,” I admit. “Things come back in little slices. Tiny shadows.” I shake my head, as if to clear it. “Everything with Mav is just…stirring things up. That’s all.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” I manage a smile. “I’m fine.”

Allegra looks unconvinced. “We need to talk about this. We need to… I don’t know…figure things out.”

“We should get back out there.” I point toward the restaurant.

“Kenny, I don’t give a shit about dinner. I care about you; I’m worried aboutyou.”

“Don’t be. I just got overwhelmed. Seeing Branson here threw me for a loop. He’s always just…lurking and I didn’t expect to see him here. And Mav is…well, I think he’s going to be my friend,” I offer Allegra another truth. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.

“You should talk to Mav,” Allegra whispers.

“About Bran? No way! A, there’s nothing to tell. I don’t?—”

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