Page 85 of Faking It with the Forward

“I’m not filing a report,” Nadia says.

“What? Why?”

I move closer, standing next to the bedroom door where I can hear better.

“Because I don’t want to.” There’s a pause. “Brent didn’t invite me over. He hasn’t asked me to come over in weeks, but every time CJ texted me, I hoped that Brent would be there and, you know, some kind of spark would happen.”

“Hoping to see one guy doesn’t mean you were agreeing to be filmed having sex with another.” Twyler’s voice is firm.

“I knew what CJ wanted,” Nadia says so quietly I have to strain to hear her. “He’d been begging me to make a video for LonelyCams for weeks. I told him no, but he was just really persistent. He wouldn’t let it go.”

“Last night you said you didn’t agree to it.”

“I didn’t.” She sniffs. “But I also didn’t walk out of there when I should have. It’s my fault. I went to the house. I ate the food and drinks. I didn’t fight back or try to leave.”

“Because he drugged you!” Twyler’s voice rises.

“Twy,” Nadia says. “You know what it’s like to have shitty stuff done to you by a guy. There are shades of gray and I don’t want this out there. Everyone already thinks I’m a stupid, slutty jersey chaser. I don’t want to be a victim on top of that.”

Twyler sighs, and I step away from the door, realizing that my eavesdropping just makes me another asshole invading Nadia’s personal life. I also don’t miss out on the fact that although I’ve always gotten consent from the women I was with, I can’t say for certain we were always on the same page.

I’m pulling on my jeans when the bedroom door opens, and Twyler steps in wearing the hoodie she stole from me weeks ago. A feral possessiveness licks up my spine.

“Hey,” I say, drawing my eyes away from the sweatshirt to the defeated expression on her face. “Everything okay?”

She shrugs. “Nadia doesn’t want to file a report. Which is her choice.”

I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest. “You’re a good friend.”

“I just hate that all of this is happening to her.”

“I know, Sunshine.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Nadia’s tough and she’s got your support. Maybe she’ll come around.”

She leans into me, and I know now is the time to talk to her. To lay my cards on the table, but I’ve also got practice in an hour and I’ve got to get home for my gear. Something tells me it’s going to take more than a few minutes to convince her to give me a shot.

“So listen,” I say, tilting her head up where I can look her in the eye. “I was hoping maybe we could meet up later today.” My phone buzzes on the bed. Probably one of the guys reminding me about practice. I pick up and scan the message. “What the fuck?”

Her eyebrows lift and she peers around me to see the phone. “What?”

“It’s Brent.” I frown at the text. “He wants us to meet him.”

“Why the hell would we do that?”

The phone buzzes again—another message but this time it’s a photo. I open the screen and peer at the grainy image. Despite the quality, I recognize that it was taken last night—the camera angle coming from the direction of Brent’s house, capturing me and Twyler next to my car, caught in an embrace.

The message that follows is to the point:We need to talk.

24

Twyler

The bright yellow truck stop sign glows against the gray sky. Nightfall comes faster now, and although I don’t mind the cold, I’m not a fan of the shorter days. I hate leaving the house before daylight and coming home after the sun sets.

I pull into the driveway, past the eighteen-wheelers, and spot Reese’s Challenger parked near the diner. Thankfully, practice was only watching film, because neither Reese nor I had the attention span to do much more. Both of our minds were occupied with why Brent asked us to meet way out here near the highway to talk.

“Hey,” he says, meeting me at the car. His hands are shoved in his pockets and it makes his shoulders seem even bigger. “Find it okay?”

“Yeah.” I look around. “Could he have picked a crappier place?” It’s all truckers and travelers. No students. I feel like the location choice must be as much about Brent not wanting to be seen as it is about our secret.

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