Aunt Liz clears her throat. “It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. His kind are different, Scarlett.” She closes her eyes. “I hate to say it, but this is what I was afraid of. There’s something about that school. Something that makes them think if their parents have enough money to pay for them to be there, then they can do whatever and get away with it.”
My eyes flash. “Why does it feel like you aren’t telling me something?”
She sighs and sits on the other side of me, clasping her hands together. “It’s nothing that I haven’t said or hinted at before. I always assumed that your father used your mother and dumped her. We figured he was a Rose and was too embarrassed to be seen with your mother—a Thorn. Too fucking selfish to stand by her when she found out she was pregnant with you.” She shakes her head, mumbling to herself, “It’s like it’s happening all over again.”
“No.” Oh God, no.
“Tell me you haven’t slept with him, Scarlett.”
A harsh swallow works its way past the lump in my throat. “I can’t.”
Aunt Liz makes a show of trying to breathe calmly.
“I’m going to kill that little punk.” Uncle David’s face turns an odd purple-red color.
They truly would kill him if they knew the whole story. And there is no way in hell I’m telling them—especially not now. The more they know about the shitshow that’s been going on since I set foot on the grounds of Rosehaven Academy, the more likely they are to pull me out and make me attend the local public school, River Rock High School. I dig in my heels. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore right now. Do you mind if I take a shower and go to bed?” I chew on my lip, waiting on their answer. I need the sweet oblivion of sleep. When Mom died, sleep was the only thing that helped for a long time. Funny that I’d equate the loss of my relationship with Xander to a death of sorts. We’re over before we’d ever truly begun.
The plea flashing through my eyes must convince them because after conferring silently with one another, they nod. “Okay. But we’re right down the hall if you need something.”
After my shower, I pull on a tank top and sleep shorts and slip between the sheets of my bed. I’m both mentally and physically exhausted, but I don’t foresee sleep coming any time soon.
I lie here for what feels like forever, thinking through every word, every gesture, every moment over the last month. Flashes of memories with him hit me one after another in rapid succession—licking his ice cream with a naughty twinkle in his eye, running toward me all decked out in his football gear, whispering dirty things in my ear. My heart aches with the loss.
Somehow, I should have known better than to trust him. He used me. For what? Just to get off? Because he thought it would be amusing to prove that he could? To see if I’d let him go that far? My mind flashes back to Aria and her cheer bitches cornering me in the girls’ bathroom earlier this week. I remember her words as if she were standing right here at my bedside whispering them in my ear. Her sickly-sweet voice taunts me over and over again. He’ll leave when he gets what he wants. My eyes drift shut. When he gets into your pants.
And that’s exactly how it’d happened. He’d played my body like a master violinist. He’d known exactly how to touch me, precisely what I’d needed. Every moment with him had felt good. How could it have all been a lie?