Page 107 of Damnation
“No, I’m fine.” I shrug off his sweatshirt and hand it back to him. “I’m sorry I screwed up the tutoring session.”
“No worries,” he exclaims, with an accompanying wave of his hand. “We’ll make it up.” He pulls his sweatshirt back on and cracks a smile. “Were you headed home? I can go with you if you want?”
The only thing I want right now is Thomas. I want to see him. I need to. I’ve got to look him in the eye and get his side of the story. Because I refuse to believe that this is real.
“That’s sweet, Logan, but I think I need some alone time right now. But thank you, thank you for all of this.” I smile gratefully at him, and despite the clear disappointment on his face, he promises to get in touch in the next few days. Though my hands are shaking, I manage to get my phone out and ask Matt where I can find Thomas right now.
I run all the way to the men’s locker room, and I’m so out of my head that I just rush right in without even knocking. Luckily for me, it’s almost empty. There’s only Thomas, sitting on a bench with a white towel wrapped around his waist and another hanging around his neck. His hair is dripping over his forehead, and elbows resting on his thighs, he’s cradling his head in his hands. But the moment he senses my presence, his eyes snap to me, and the coldness that flares in them stops me in my tracks.
Twenty-Five
I close the door behind me, my stomach clenching. “Please tell me it’s not true,” I beg, advancing on him.
Thomas stands up, irritated, and goes to his locker. “How’d you find out?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me. So give me the name of the motherfucker who talked.” He yanks the towel off his neck, briskly rubbing his hair before throwing it wrathfully into the hamper.
I completely lose my patience with his nonchalant attitude. I grab his face in both hands and force him to look me in the eye. “Look at me. I’m here freaking out, and your only concern is getting the name of the person who told me? What is wrong with you?”
“More than you can imagine,” he answers through gritted teeth, shaking off my hands.
I move aside, and blinking in confusion, I murmur, “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Leave me alone.”
I rub my hands over my face, trying to sort out my thoughts, because sorting out his thoughts is impossible for me. “I thought that part of your life was over.” My voice lowers to a hiss, and I give him a regretful stare. “How long, Thomas? How long has this been going on?”
He gives an exhausted sigh. “It only happened once, twice at the most,” he explains with a vague wave of his hand, like we’re talking about binging on candy or chocolate. He opens his locker and starts emptying his personal effects out of it. “The other night at the frat party, there was some stuff floating around—” he continues, but I suddenly interrupt him because a realization has just torn my heart from my chest.
“Hold on a second…” I step back, my eyes full of horror. “The frat party? The one you left right before coming to see me?”
His eyes widen at me, but not so much as a breath comes out of his mouth. Silence. A damning and deafening silence.
“So that means that, when you came to me…you…you were high?” My voice is trembling and swallowing is a struggle.
He continues to stare unblinkingly at me, the lines of his face all tight and his jaw clenched. Like he’s just realized that he’s let out a secret he wanted to keep, and now there’s no going back. He closes his eyes for a moment, pushing his forehead against the locker.
“Fuck, Ness. This doesn’t change anything.”
I goggle at him, shocked. I cannot believe him. He was high. He was like that thewhole time. How in the hell did I not see it? How? Who was I even with that night? Who was I kissing? Who was I touching? God, it feels like I’m losing my mind.
“It doesn’t change anything?” I shriek in anguish. “It changes everything, actually. Everything has changed!” I turn my back on him. I can’t take another minute shut up in this room with him while he looks at me like his admission doesn’t mean anything!
I run for the exit and grab the door handle. But the moment I start to leave, Thomas slams his palm against the door, closing it on me. He chest presses up against my back, trapping me between him and the wood of the door.
“Don’t,” he growls, only a breath away from my ear. There’s a pleading tone hidden in his voice, and against my will, it makes me weak.
“Don’t touch me,” I manage finally, my voice cracking with tears.
He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. I don’t fight him. “I’m not expecting you to understand. But…fuck, I just needed to put an end to all the shit that was constantly going through my head.”
I shake my head, wiping my tears on my shirtsleeve. “It’s worse than I thought, if we’re already at the point where you’re making excuses for yourself.”
He doesn’t answer, he just gives me a look filled with resentment. He might as well have stuck a knife right into my chest. It’s difficult for me, because my throat is burning with rage and sorrow, but I sniff, and like the true masochist that I am, I push the blade in deeper. “It was all bullshit, wasn’t it? You didn’t come over the other night because you wanted to see me or because you missed me. You came because you needed a body to use.”
He shuts his eyes, guilty. “Ness.”
