Page 46 of Let Me
My eyes widen and I stare at him, mouth open. I snap it closed and shake my head, pulling my knees to my chest and tugging my shorts down over my thighs. Of course he knows why I’m here. Why else would I be here in the middle of the goddamn night in my pajamas?
Fuck, this was a bad idea. But I hadn’t had any better ones.
“No,” I say quickly. “No charges.”
He sighs. “Riley, if someone hurt you—”
I shake my head again, my lip threatening to start its trembling once more.
But thankfully, I don’t need to say no a second time. Mr. Virani nods.
“Do you want something to drink or eat...” he trails off, and I wonder if he’s feeling as awkward as I am right now.
“Did I wake you?” I ask, then feel my face flame as I realize what a stupid question it was. But I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to think about what happened. This embarrassment feels better than that.
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, Riley, you didn’t.” He sighs, rocking back on his heels again and looking at his slippers. “I don’t sleep well,” he admits.
Jack has told me as much. He’s told me about the screaming matches he and Caden have gotten into with their father over making the slightest noise too late in the night.
Suddenly, thunder cracks outside, and then I hear rain. It’s pouring down with a dull roar.
I whip my head around, looking at the window. But I can’t see anything past the heavy drapes. I’m glad I missed the storm. But for some reason, it makes us being alone in here feel almost claustrophobic.
I tell myself I’m panicking, because of what happened. I’m safe here.
“I’ll be right back,” Mr. Virani says wistfully. “I’m going to get us a drink.”
I nod my thanks and he disappears off to the kitchen.
I bury my head in my hands, letting my eyes close, letting the sound of rain outside wash over me. And it’s only then that I feel how tired I am. It’s an exhaustion that weighs on me, heavy in a way I’ve never felt before.
But it quickly morphs into something else: Anger. Anger at my mother. At her boyfriend. At Jack for always yanking me around. At myself for letting him. At myself most of all, for being strange and introverted and weak and weird and not making more friends. Of having to rely on Tyler and Jack’s pity for the sake of having some semblance of a social life. Which is a joke. I don’t have one. Aside from Tyler, I have one other friend. Morgan. And she’s rich too, probably dancing around her parents 5-star hotel right now and ordering room service and having unprotected sex with her boyfriend of the week. Which isn’t fair to Morgan. She’s nice. Just an airhead with way too much money. Like everyone else in this city.
Startling me out of my self-pity, I hear Mr. Virani’s footsteps echo down the hall.
I snap my head up, shoving down all of those thoughts. All of that anger. I bottle it up. Because that’s what I’m good at. Every now and then, some of it escapes. In foul language or biting comments or clenched fists. But usually, I keep it under wraps. Because no one cares about a poor girl’s anger.
Absolutely no one.
Mr. Virani extends a red plastic cup to me, which makes me laugh a little. I’ve seen Caden and his friends with these around the house sometimes. I’ve even seen Jack with one. But I’ve never drank anything other than bottled water in this house. Truth be told, I’ve always been a little scared of any substance, after seeing what’s happened to my mom.
She’s been an addict since I can remember. My dad paid for a sitter after he left when I was a baby, until I was ten. And then that money disappeared.
I take the cup he’s offered and peer inside of it. He takes a drink from his own and finally takes a seat, a respectful distance away from me. Something has changed in his face. He seems less tired. More...energetic.
“It’s just Diet Coke,” he whispers conspiratorially to me, ankle crossed over his knee.
I laugh at that and take a sip.
“And sorry that it’s Diet, but Maria doesn’t allow sugar in the house.”
I take another drink and nod. The ice bumps my lips. I always drink water. I don’t even know if I’ve ever had Diet Coke before. Or regular. It tastes sickly sweet, but it’s something to do with my hands so I keep drinking it.
I know about the no-sugar rule. Jack always bitches about not having cereal here. He says he had a depraved childhood because he wasn’t allowed cereal. Clearly, he has no idea what a depraved childhood is.
“Do you have your phone?” Mr. Virani asks after a moment, when I’ve nearly finished my drink. It feels strange and cold in my stomach, which is because there was nothing in the house for dinner. I was studying for finals this week and Mom, of course, didn’t think to restock groceries.
I shake my head, hoping Mom’s boyfriend didn’t steal my phone from my nightstand. I will kill him for that, if nothing else. It’s an allowance I make in our budget every month, to feel connected. To feel safe. Although a hell of a lot of good it did me tonight.
