Page 85 of Bitter Truths

“Good,” he rumbles. “Hals, what was that?”

“What was what?” My pulse is thrumming painfully in my veins.

Gripping my chin, he searches my face. “With Professor Marks. That looked pretty intense.”

Pulling from his grip, I say, “It doesn’t matter. Just therapy.”

“Was it?” His lips pull into a disbelieving smile, and he glances toward where Dr. Marks took off a few moments ago.

“Of course.” I shrug. What else would it be? Just my fucking therapist encouraging me to explore my sexuality. No biggie.

“Hals, are you sure—”

“Yes, Griff,” I say, pulling away. “I’m sure.”

Searching my expression, he looks away with a grimace. “Okay. Listen, we’re having a party tonight if you want to come.”

“We?” I ask softly.

“Yes, Miranda and me.”

“Ah, of course. Well, maybe. Let me check with Aaron,” I mutter, giving him a brittle smile before stepping around him.

“Hals?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah?” I say with my back to him.

“Never mind,” he rumbles, and I nod, moving forward without blinking.

∞∞∞

Grimly, I stare at my reflection. I’ve got my signature purple makeup on, the mask I hide my pain behind, but nothing can create the shine missing from my dull blue eyes.

My pale blonde hair hangs down my back, ending in gentle curls, the darker shade of my own hue peeking at the roots. I haven’t cared to dye it since last year and now is no different.

Besides, maybe it’s time to embrace the real me and stop fucking creating personas I continuously try to hide behind but that leave me achingly empty. I can’t outrun who I am, and the effort is tiring.

Wearily I rub my brow, glancing up when Aaron appears in the doorway, looking me over cautiously, and I smile feebly at his concern.

“You going out?” he asks.

“To a party,” I say quietly.

He searches my expression before asking softly, “What’s really going on, Halsey?”

“Going on?” I say with a deep breath. “Well, my senior year of high school, to make Griffin jealous, I got wasted and slept with Jason, but I passed out and woke up with him and his friends all around me. And they didn’t care when I said no.”

“Jesus,” he whispers.

“Yeah.” I turn back to my pathetic reflection. “I guess I got what I deserved.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, and I look up at his harsh tone.

“Why? Apparently, I begged for it. It’s all on video,” I say sourly.

“Fuck me. That’s . . . I’m so sorry, Hals. But that doesn’t mean you deserved it,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me against him.

With a smile, I drop my gaze because although I’m grateful for his words, I disagree, and maybe that’s where the crux of my issues lies.

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