Unsteady

“You swear you haven’t had sex with him yet?”

We’re sitting on a pallet of pillows and blankets—almost all of them Aurora’s, half homemade gifts from her grandmother, a whole assortment of colors that looks like a muted rainbow threw up. Both lying flat on our backs, nearly cheek to cheek with legs outstretched to either side of our small living room area. Rora’s lengthy curls fan around me, tangling with the straight silk of my own.

My cheeks heat under the slight embarrassment at Rora’s question. If anyone else asked, I might rip their head off, but I know Rora means well.

“I swear.” I sigh.

And it’s the truth. We’ve done nearly everything else, but every time we start to go in that direction—with me leading the charge—he redirects me with his mouth on me so quickly I can’t complain before he’s wrenching endless orgasms from me.

The boy has a magic tongue.

“Why not?”

There’s a lot of ways I could answer, but I don’t want to say what I really think—that he didn’t want me in that way. Maybe he heard about last year after all.

“I think he was taking things slow,” I say, the sting of past tense hot on my tongue as it falls from my lips. Was. “But it doesn’t matter. And besides,” I say, sitting up on my elbows and leaning over her so my hair forms a little curtain over us. “I thought you said no talking about boys. If that’s back on the table, you need to tell me about the student.”

The Student.

Rora is an accomplished student, a tutor in mathematics, English and multiple sciences. She’s an overachiever in all aspects, and has been since freshman year. In that, she has kept herself professional.

Until recently, where she keeps talking about one of the people she tutors, labeled in her phone as Student which is odd already because she uses email to track students, not her personal number.

I haven’t seen the messages, but I know they are there and she likes him—just from her perpetual smile while she schedules their sessions.

If that’s even what she’s doing.

“Oh, suddenly someone is silent.” I laugh.

We both push up and rest our backs against the small sage sofa we found on the side of the road and spent weeks cleaning, only to spill an entire glass of red wine on it while celebrating the following weekend.

She shrugs, but still refuses to say a word about it.

“Right.” I sigh. “Well, how is tutoring Matt Fredderic going then?”

She takes a big gulp of her Big Gulp that we filled with cherry slush earlier. “It’s fine. Easy.”

“I’m surprised he needs a tutor. Isn’t he sleeping with all his professors for good grades? Or does he just not have any female teachers to seduce this year?”

Rora rolls her eyes. “Very funny.”

I start to say something again, when my phone starts ringing.

It’s an unknown number, but the area code is local. Normally I wouldn’t answer, but I’ve had too many scares when it comes to Oliver and Liam that I’d never forgive myself, so I hold up a finger for Rora and quickly apologize before answering.

“Hello?”

There’s loud music for a moment, before a door slams and it’s slightly quieter.

“Is this Sadie Gray?”

“Sadie Brown,” I correct, my stomach sinking because there’s only one person who calls me that.

“The figure skater?” the guy asks, sounding puzzled with my correction.

“Yeah.” I breathe. “Who is this?”

“Bennett Reiner. I’m Rhys’ friend. We met once at the coffee shop.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “I remember. Bennett—what’s, I mean… Why are you calling me?”

He takes a deep breath, seeming to struggle to get his words out. “I didn’t want to call you unless I had to, but I think something’s wrong with Rhys.”

My stomach drops, a flare of heat over the back of my neck. What’s wrong? Is he okay? Is he hurt? Did he have another panic attack?

“Why are you calling me?” I finally blurt, anxiety mixing with anger—not at him, but at everything.

He’s not mine. We aren’t dating.

“I thought look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two—”

“Nothing is—”

“—but I know that Rhys isn’t okay. I don’t think he’s been okay for a while, and for some reason, I think you know that. So, if he’s told you or confided in you, it’s not nothing.” He spits the last bit out, like he’s angry with me for calling it that.

“Bennett, I can’t—”

“You don’t have to date him or whatever it is, but please, can you just come help him? I can’t get him to leave and he’s locked himself in a bathroom and said only Sadie can come in. If he doesn’t want people to see him like this, he needs to get the hell out of here and none of us can drive.”

Oh my god.

Rora cocks her head at me, and I know the call is loud enough that she can hear at least some of it. She shrugs, letting me know it’s my choice.

“Send me the address. I’ll come take him home.”

We look terribly out of place; Rora in her blue and white striped silk pajama set—because the girl doesn’t own a simple t-shirt, and me—swimming in an old ratty band tee that comes down mid-thigh, covering my shorts entirely.

After I park the Jeep, we both hop out and walk the short distance from the street parking to the bumping, loud, aptly named hockey dorms. Rora crosses her arms, hands gripping her shoulders self-consciously. It doesn’t help, especially with her hair piled into a pretty ribbon-bound ponytail, all bare tawny skin.

Still, she braves the murmurs when we walk the stone steps to the porch and front door, where a few stragglers are talking and laughing. Walking through the opened door, I look around for the mountain that is Bennett Reiner.

I see far too many familiar faces, a few brave my angry bare-faced stare to tell me they’re happy to see me or glad I’m back on my “usual shit.” Shoving past them all, I’m a second away from calling him when a shoulder slams me hard enough to toss my bodyweight into the wall.

“Nice outfit, Aurora,” a snarky voice taunts.

I’m spinning around, ready to knock him on his ass before I can blink, but Rora stops me, stepping in front of me to block my path to Tyler. He’s flushed, clearly more than a little drunk and something about it makes me nervous.

“I can deal with this,” Rora tells me calmly, but her eyes are dilated and there’s gooseflesh across her bare skin. “Go find Rhys.”

“I won’t leave you here—”

“It’s fine.” She smiles. “I can handle him. Besides, we’re in the crowded front room at a party. What could happen?”

A lot. I want to argue, but I catch a familiar set of bodies approaching from the back of the room near the kitchen. One, hulking and decked in a long sleeve and jeans, backwards baseball cap and a scowl. The other, slightly shorter, but still out-measuring most of the guys in the room, dressed in his usual Matt Fredderic fashion: a semi-unbuttoned shirt and the glint of the same chain around his neck.

I head towards them, pushing through the throng of people surrounding every corner.

Bennett spots me first, both of us now heading towards each other, cutting the distance in half. Matt comes too, but his eyes aren’t really focused on me, he keeps glancing behind.

“Your friend okay?” he asks when we’re close enough to hear.

“You mean your tutor?” I joke, but my mouth can barely get the hint of a smile. “No, she’s not. I-I need to… Can you just, like, go hover around her and make sure she’s okay?”

He nods and taps me on the shoulder, scooting by.

Bennett looks unflinchingly calm, but there’s a flush to his cheeks like he might have had a few drinks. He messes with his baseball cap and looks towards my shoes, a hand-me-down pair of slip-on clogs, and nods over his shoulder.

I follow him through the kitchen toward a narrow back stairwell that is, thankfully, empty.

Bennett takes them two at a time, and I follow close behind until we reach a closed bathroom door. He takes off his baseball cap, rakes a hand through a mass of messy amber brown curls and readjusts the hat back on his head, gesturing towards the door with his other hand.

“Right,” I whisper, hating the clamminess of my hands and seasick stomach. My hand knocks on the door.

“Busy!” a female voice yells. Her tone is angry, but that doesn’t stop me from grasping the wall like I might pass out, or vomit—or both.

Bennett huffs a little derisive sound and slams his fist so hard on the door it rattles.

“Open the fuck up.” He doesn’t yell, but it has the same effect.

“Go away,” Rhys slurs through the door, and I’m sure my face is ash now. “I’m fine, Ben.”

“Rhys?” I ask, pressing my entire face nearly into the wood. “It’s Sadie. Can you open the door for me?”

It’s barely a second, and he does.

Or she, because the girl is the first to slip out of the room, adjusting her high ponytail and jeans as she does. She gives a sneer of disgust towards the room and flickers her eyes to me, before snapping towards a fuming Bennett.

“Freddy told you not to mess with him,” Bennett practically growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever—he’s a mess. Threw up for the last ten minutes while I just stood there. I’m assuming you’re—”

“Gray,” a voice croaks.

We all whip our heads towards Rhys.

His body is slumped into the frame, his gray shirt slightly darker around the collar that tells me he was either sweating or tossing water from the faucet onto his face. His skin is flushed, hair a tangled mess that he tries to curl behind his ear as some of it plasters to his damp face.

He looks… terrible. Yet—he’s smiling at me, dimples deep and eyes foggy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he slurs, so much that his words all come out as one.

Another wave of heat as a light pulsing starts up in my head.

“Was he this drunk when you went in there with him?” I ask, vision hazing as I glare at the girl trying to leave our little alcove.

Rhys stumbles, catching his weight on the frame again as he looks between us. “She pulled me in there,” he hurries to say, as if it’s him I’m accusing. “But I didn’t want to—”

He hiccups and I see Bennett step towards him, like a shield in case he throws up again, or passes out.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, whipping back towards the girl. She’s tall, even more so with her heels; a pair of shoes I wish I was wearing now so I could take one off and stab her in the eye with it. “He’s blackout wasted and you took him in there? For what? To hook up with the hockey star while he’s literally so drunk he can’t see straight?”

The girl’s cheeks go red, a little widening to her eyes. As if she’s just realizing what she did. She might’ve had a drink or two, but she’s not drunk.

“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”

Flames shoot off from the sides of my head.

I launch myself towards her before I really think it through. We tumble into the wall, my arms around her waist as I use my foot, now missing a clog from my jump, to take her down to the hardwood flooring.

“We didn’t do anything!” she screams. “He threw up all over the place before—”

I hit her—which unfortunately isn’t a first for me.

The very few people in the hallway around us are starting to chant or yell. I only get two good hits—one to her face, the other to her arm—when she finally blocks me, screaming at me. But I can’t hear her beyond the red haze.

She touched Rhys. She took advantage of him.

Then, I’m pulled away.

Bennett easily walks me backwards, even as I squirm in his arms. He’s huge, and I’m sure it looks like a Newfoundland taking a Chihuahua by the scruff. My ears are still ringing as I try to come down from the burst of adrenaline—so I can’t hear as he barks something at her over my shoulders.

Rhys is sitting in front of the bathroom, looking up at me in Bennett’s arms with watery brown eyes.

I hate how vulnerable he looks, but it brings me back.

Focus on Rhys.

Easy.

I stop fighting against Bennett and he drops me after I nod again. He switches me for Rhys, tucking an arm around his waist as Rhys leans heavily on him.

“I didn’t want her here, Sadie,” Rhys coos, his voice slurring even as his eyes shine. He reaches for me but I sidestep him. “I promise.”

“It’s fine, Rhys. I know.” I sigh. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I think I’m in love with her.” I hear Rhys tell Bennett, but his voice doesn’t lower even a notch. “And she won’t let me in.”

My heart clenches and I can’t help glancing over my shoulder, maneuvering quickly down the stairs.

Bennett winces, helping Rhys along as we walk out the back door. “Calm down, bud.”

“Sade doesn’t think I’m a golden boy, Ben.” Rhys smiles, but it’s all wrong. “I don’t have to pretend now that she’s here. She knows I’m broken.” He lets out a huffed laugh.

“Rhys… you’re not broken.” Bennett sounds as distraught as I feel, despite the hard wall of steel I have raised, my last ditch effort to protect myself.

“I am, Ben. And she’s the only one who sees it.”

Bennett gives me an unsettled look, but continues on.

“Let’s get you out of here, man,” he says, softer in his tone.

Bennett leads, staying close to the side of the house and avoiding the other half of the party enjoying the cool autumn air.

As we make it to the front lawn, I step forward to navigate towards my car.

“Where are you going?” a voice shouts—Paloma, I realize—as I turn towards her.

She’s standing just slightly in front of the front steps, having leapt up from the lap of a very large, very terrifying-looking man I’ve never seen before. Her eyes keep flickering between the three of us, like she isn’t sure who she addressed with her question.

Maybe it’s the already high adrenaline echoing in my veins, or the vulnerable, heart wrenching words spilling from Rhys’ drunken lips, but I can’t seem to stop myself from heading towards her.

I must look slightly unhinged, because a little bit of fear widens her eyes as she steps back.

“If you want him, Paloma,” I snap. “Take better fucking care of him. Or leave him alone.”

She flushes, crossing her arms. “I didn’t say that—”

“Whatever. Be with him or don’t, I don’t fucking care,” I lie, my teeth aching as I push out the words. “Just—” I’m sputtering and then a laugh etches out of me before I can stop it. “You know what? Nevermind. You can’t have him, okay? I don’t get him and neither do you. Leave him the fuck alone and we don’t have a problem.”

She nods, but she isn’t looking at me. No, she’s looking past me towards Rhys. Bennett scoffs and calls for me to leave.

“Stay out of my way,” I whisper. I look over her shoulder at the little crowd gathered. The black-haired, golden-skinned guy is watching it all with a sinful smirk across his lips, leaning back as if this is his favorite reality show. But above him, sitting on the highest step and being tended to by some football player, is the girl from earlier.

I gesture to her, making her face turn ashen as I call a little louder. “And tell your little friend up there to watch her fucking back. I don’t need unbruised knuckles to skate.”

It’s easy now, to leave, something in my gut is satisfied by the red skin on her cheek, the thoroughly reprimanded look on Paloma Blake’s otherwise perfect face, all of it surges me forward, leading them to my car down just two rows from the lawn.

Bennett sits Rhys in, gentle as the giant can be. Rhys tucks against the seat and I turn to see a running Rora headed my way. Her sandals smack on the pavement, the silk of her pajamas rippling in the cool wind.

She grabs onto Bennett’s arm, who flinches under her touch and draws back.

“Someone’s gotta stop him.”

“Who?”

“Freddy.”

Bennett curses and takes off back towards the party with Aurora in tow, leaving me with Rhys.

It’s quiet, the wild whipping through the trees and the muted party noise gentle in the background. And because I can’t stand the silence, boygenius’ “Revolution 0” plays on a little loop in my head.

He’s just breathing, but I glance quickly to make sure he’s still awake and alive, and despite his drunken stupor, he sees it.

“I’m good.” He sighs deep again, pressing a hand to his chest before letting it fall. “Just those Darth Vader impressions again.”

The words are still slurred, but it’s the droopy smile that has me looking away fast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Rhys whispers, his voice fitting seamlessly with the sounds around me and in me.

It’s almost painful not to look at him.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Rhys…” I beg.

He reaches out, almost falling out of the car, grabbing my hand. It forces me to look, to see the glittering pain like drops of a deep blue in his dark brown eyes.

“I called you over and over. I just… Sadie, please.”

“Don’t do this right now. You’re drunk and I’m tired.”

He bites his lip and nods, but the movement is slow and lethargic.

I want to kiss him again, but it’s selfish because it’s my need.

It’s overwhelming, the way I feel around him. The need to touch him, to hold him—and not in a way that how I feel usually overwhelms me. This is—it’s soothing, like it melts away all the bad thoughts in my head.

“Close your eyes,” I murmur, letting my thumb run circles around his warm hand. Letting myself bask in the comfort of him. “You should sleep it off, hotshot.”

His lips tilt at the nickname, with his eyes still closed and his hand still folded in mine.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, stealing a moment to caress his overheated forehead and run my fingers through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Even like this, perched in my backseat with a boyish sleepy smile across his face, he looks larger than life. He’s destined to be something great.

I drop him off with Freddy at their house, who’s sporting bruised knuckles and a red cheek. I don’t ask, because the only thing I’m concerned over is Rhys.

I hate leaving him there, even with Freddy. It feels wrong, leaving him alone.

Because I’ve begun to think of him as mine, I realize as I pull away from their nice little house.

He deserves so much more. He’s temporarily broken—there’s no fixing me.

That thought stays with me like a mantra, far into the night and through the next day.