Page 114 of Did They Break You

The emptiness that came after everything, I’m not sure I could survive that again.

I push those thoughts aside as Cort and I sit down on the worn leather sofa. Somehow, I end up between him and Storm, and my skin feels too tight, hot all over in the middle of them.

I set my drink on the table and pull my phone from my hoodie pocket, opening up a message to Sloane, but I don’t know what to tell her. The guilt eats at me, yet I know I can’t feel too badly about it because I’m still doing it.

It’s something I wrestled with after that night. Maybe Cortland didn’t want everyone to have me. Maybe he just got caught up in the moment, and his hands cupping my face were a way to apologize. But even as I held onto that thought, I knew the truth.

People do what they want to do.

That’s every person on the planet’s motivating factor.Their own desire.If someone wants to call, they’ll call. If they want to text, nothing will stop them from getting to their phone and sending that message.

I told Sloane the same thing last year when she was messing around with a fuck boy she met in her marketing class.

He gave her excuse after excuse about why he couldn’t call or text at certain times on certain days and turns out, he was married.

People always do what they want.

And I’m no different.

Cortland didn’t force me to come here. Just like he didn’t force me in the library.And I have no idea how to feel about that.

“Need help?” Cort whispers beside me, tugging me close.

Storm reaches over to the side table, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. I’m very aware of the scent of him, like leather, or a new car. I see his tattoos, too, edged over his fingers as he flips through different shows.

I glance up at Cortland and see his gray eyes glowing silver in the brightness of my screen. A dimple in his handsome face flashes, his lip ring pulling into a smile as he stares at me.

I feel hot, and I squirm a little on the couch, my screen going dim. “What?” I whisper, tasting the strong drink he made in the back of my throat.

He shakes his head, looking away a second, and I take in the sharp curve of his cheekbone, and his defined jawline. He takes a pull from his beer and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. “You’re just cute,” he says after a minute, looking back down at me and lowering his drink to the side of the couch.

Storm pretends to ignore us as he flips through Netflix for something to watch.

Butterflieseruptin my stomach, and I really, really want to down the rest of the drink Cort made me, but I force myself to hold his gaze.

“What are we doing?” I whisper. The same question I texted him.

He smiles, and in these few moments, I’ve seen the boy I had a crush on. Kind, always smiling, aggressive on the field butfriendly off it. I’d never consider him a pushover, and at six foot three, it’s not like he didn’t hold his own. But he wasn’t a bully. He wasn’t an asshole.

I don’t know what happened that night.

Are we all capable of those shadowy things in the dark?

“Just enjoy it,” he says. Then he nods toward my phone, still in my hands. “Tell her you’re gonna sleep in the library,” he suggests. “Or…” He trails off, then glances through those long, dark lashes at Storm, still flipping through the channels. “Tell her the truth.”

I almost die right there.

But I just laugh, and even Storm scoffs at my side.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he mutters under his breath.

Another look from Cortland, but I get the distinct feeling Storm is not looking at us.

“I can’t,” I tell Cortland. “There’s no way in hell she’d be chill about that.”

Cortland pulls my phone gently from my hand and I watch it go, knowing he can’t unlock it without my face or passcode now that the screen has gone dim. “Why don’t you just put it away?” he whispers.

“Because Sloane will panic if she wakes up and I’m not there,” I shoot back, reaching for my phone.

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