Page 205 of Rock Me All Night
I turn and rush up the stairs with as much calm as I can muster.
The tension in my neck relaxes once I'm alone in my bedroom. Hurt bubbles up in my chest, the same hurt I felt when I was listening to Drew play. I push it away, lock myself in the bathroom, and run the shower.
* * *
Iturnthe water as hot and heavy as it will go. It pounds the porcelain with a loudtap tap tap. The tiny white room fills with steam. It turns everything into this bright blurry haze.
The band is still downstairs. No signs anyone is on their way out. I throw my head back and rinse my hair in the water. I didn't exactly play that cool, but I didn't throw a fit.
I shampoo, condition, and soap. My fingers trail over the scars on my inner thighs. They're still raised well above my skin, thick and red and ugly. But no one can see them.
No one will ever see them again.
"Kara."
It's Drew. Outside my bedroom door. He must be yelling pretty loud to make it all the way to me.
I pretend like I can't hear.
"Kara." The bedroom door opens. He's inside my bedroom now. His footsteps move toward the shower. He knocks lightly. "How is the paper going in there?"
"Great," I yell over the shower.
"You want to come downstairs? I made Tom promise to shut the fuck up."
"No thank you." I turn the water off. "I really do have to finish my homework."
"Do it after everyone leaves." He taps the door lightly. "Things are falling apart without you. Pete is sulking on the couch. Meg and Miles are necking on the table."
I pull my towel—one of my few belongings—from the rack and pat myself dry. I'm naked and Drew is on the other side of the door.
"Give me a minute," I say.
He taps the door with his fingers. Okay. He's not leaving. I pull the towel around my chest and check my reflection to make sure I'm covered. It's acceptable.
Drew's eyes pass over me as I move to the closet, from my eyes all the way down to my toes and back up again. His gaze lingers at my chest. For a split second, his pupils dilate. His lips part.
He wants me. Some part of him, at least. Even if it's subconscious, it's something.
“Why does it make you so angry?” I ask.
“What?”
“When Tom teases that we’re together. Dares you to kiss me. Whatever.”
“I asked Tom a million times to leave it alone.” He runs his hand through his hair. “He knows I swore off relationships after Vivian.”
“Oh.”
He shifts. “Are you okay?”
"Great."
His eyes fix on mine. "Were you?"
I pull the towel a little tighter. "What?"
"Hoping I'd pick dare?"
