Page 32 of Beautiful Nightmare
“Girl, I thought I was going to have to throttle Hawk when he walked into our suite with you half-conscious like that.” She shakes her head, pausing for a moment as she picks at her black nail polish. “Is it weird to think helping you was his way of apologizing for what he did to you when he was young and fucking dumb?”
I can’t help but laugh a little at the perturbed face she makes. I shrug. “Nothing will ever change that. But I’m glad, I guess, if he’s changed.”
“What’s with the blushing every time you say his name?” Her brow arches.
“Young and dumb. Apparently, I’m still both.”
Raven makes a face. “You’re not.”
“Oh!” From her back pocket, Star pulls out two campus access cards, tossing them on the bed between us.
Raven cocks her head at Star before snatching up hers, then I lean forward, realizing the other is mine. “Wait, what—?”
Star smiles. “I needed some fresh air, so I walked to the cafeteria for food.” She wrinkles her nose. “I snagged them from both of you last night, figuring we might have a rough morning. I sweet talked the cafeteria attendant into letting me swipe all three of our cards for to-go meals. They’re out on the kitchen table in boxes if you’re hungry. I hope that was okay. It seemed like between Lux’s ordeal, my cramps, and whatever was going on with you last night”—she looks pointedly at Raven, who lowers her eyes—“that maybe we didn’t all need to be trooping to the dining hall and putting ourselves on display.”
I admit, we look sort of ragged, me and Raven still in pajamas and Star in joggers and a sloppy T-shirt, a baseball cap on her head. I want to ask what Star meant about something going on with Raven last night, but I need fuel before I can handle anything else. “Let’s eat, then. Thanks for thinking of us.”
“Yep. Anytime. Maybe if we band together we might survive freshman year.”
Raven laughs. “I think we should take this one week at a time, the way we’ve been going.”
“Truth,” I snicker. It’s been so damn long since I’ve had girlfriends to talk to and it feels really good. It also makes me wonder what Evie’s been up to. Maybe I should reach out.
An hour later, I’m thoroughly confused. Evie hadn’t been home, so I’d ended up shooting her a text. No big deal. That wasn’t the confusing part. When I spoke to my parents for a few minutes, it’d been awkward as hell. For one, they didn’t have much time to speak to the daughter they haven’t seen in weeks. They also weren’t helpful at all in regard to my cryptic questions about Hawk. As far as they are aware, he’s dead. They were at his memorial. But because of how horrific the crash was, it’d been a closed casket service. They’d been so standoffish and rushed in their responses, I couldn’t bear to tell them that the boy who’d died next to me has been running around the Shadow River U campus and lives across the hall. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them. What they would do is drive right over and take me back home. Because this is definitely pure insanity.
I’m no closer to having answers about Hawk’s reappearance—rebirth? reincarnation?—than I was before I called them.
SEVENTEEN
HAWK
When I get to the biology lecture hall Monday morning, Lux is already there. She looks a little tired but otherwise okay. I’ve tried to keep my distance. She’d asked me, with tears in her eyes, to leave her there with all of her pills. So, I had. But I don’t know what my next move should be. When she finds out the truth of my deception, I think she’s going to be so pissed there will be zero chance of us coming back from it. I’m sure of it. And that makes me feel like absolute shit. I never expected to feel anything for her. Never wanted to.
And worse, nothing with this girl is adding up. I keep thinking about what had happened in her room on Sunday morning. That girl is no slut. She’s inexperienced as hell. It’s not a bad thing. I couldn’t care less. In fact, it could be fun to teach her a few things. But I thought— I was told—
I shake my head. In addition to my realization that someone out-and-out lied about her level of sexual experience, it also makes no fucking sense that she’d be so screwed up over a car accident from two years ago. Not that having been in a coma isn’t a big deal, but… she said she’d been in treatment. Counseling. There’s got to be something I’m missing. The bag that she had in her bathroom was jam-packed with prescription bottles. Either she’s cleverly concealing a drug addiction, or she has some really complicated issues. My gut says it’s the latter—and that her problems stem from prom night.
I get to the top of the stairs and slip past her, sitting down in my seat. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She goes back to looking at the notes on her screen.
After a minute goes by, I’m fairly certain she’s ignoring me on purpose. “You really aren’t going to talk to me?”
She wets her lip. “I need answers. You don’t want to give them. You’ve been nothing but a ghost to me for years. What happened with you has haunted me. So, forgive me if I ignore my dead boyfriend.”
Before I can respond, Professor Swift begins the lecture, “Okay, class. Let’s get started. Today we’ll be discussing…” And I zone out, making no attempt to focus, because this girl next to me keeps seizing my attention practically by force.
She does it with the gentle tapping of her fingers as she types her notes. With the way she tucks her hair behind her ear as she listens to the professor. With the incessant bouncing of her knee. And with every breath she takes.
Toward the end of class, I’m completely wound up. I lean toward Lux and whisper, “You don’t have any gum, do you?”
She gives me the side-eye, sighs, and bends down to rummage around in her bag. When she sits up with a pack of spearmint in her hand, she’s also found something else.
Oh, shit.I swallow, waiting for her reaction. I should have gotten rid of that.
A quiet, pained noise falls from between her lips. A few people directly surrounding us glance in our direction, then quickly away, probably sensing the tension. Not that they don’t sneak peeks at us. To be fair, our drama probably is more interesting than the lecture. Lux says nothing at first. Setting the photo on the desk, she stares at the image before her. It’s one of several photos I have of her, photos I’ve studied endlessly for two years now.
Her ragged exhale is a bad sign. “Why would you do this? Did you think I needed a reminder of that night?” Her hand shakes as it comes up to rub over her forehead.
