Ryder

seventeen

By the time I reached the campus and up my dormitory building, and by the time I managed to knock twice on my next-door neighbor's door, at which she opened and peeked her head out before handing me over my dorm's keycard, I was left exhausted.

"You okay?" She asked in a hushed whisper. I wanted to apologize to her for keeping her awake but I'd needed someone to safe-keep my keycard until I returned and she had been the closest option. I could've apologized but I didn't want to talk right now. At all.

"Long night," I replied and turned around towards my own door, sliding the card in the slot and pushing the door open. It took me a moment to realize I hadn't thanked her but when I turned around, she'd already closed her door shut and the hallway was empty once again.

I sighed and went inside my empty dorm room, and only really had the energy to take off my heels, those stupid heels, before I fell face-first on my bed with a weary groan-ish sigh. I crawled up until the top of my head touched the pillows. And then I curled up near the windows and fell asleep.

I woke up with a pounding ache in my head and an awful dry feeling in my mouth, although it wasn't as bad as it normally would've been when I woke up with a hangover. Probably because of that whole bottle of water Ryder made you drink, my awakened mind chirped in helpfully.

Ryder's name brought back awful words and memories from last night and I shuddered under the duvet I'd somehow ended up under during the night. You just need some goddamn alcohol and you'd do anything anyone says. I shuddered again and squeezed my eyes shut.

He wasn't wrong. But how he'd said it hadn't been right either. I wasn't like that. I knew I wasn't like that--a hopeless, pathetic fool.

And there'd been a plan last night, one that both Ryder and Rafael had been aware of. One that I had somehow ruined because I'd pushed Ashby with his silver eyes away from me when he'd been touching me because he'd reminded me an awfully lot of my sister's boyfriend--and now her fiance--Michael. He'd reminded me of Michael and it had felt like I couldn't breathe.

A laugh escaped me as I rubbed my face. "Oh God." My shoulders shook. "I'm so fucking messed up."

No wonder everyone had terrible opinions of me.

I found myself doing something I always did in situations like these. Something I believed I was remarkably good at, the only thing perhaps that I was good at. I pushed everything from last night to the far back of my mind and squared my shoulders, breathing deeply.

It'll be one of those things I would refuse to think about. Because it was making my chest ache and I didn't want to think about Ryder. I didn't want to think about the mad anger in his eyes and the bloodied gun in his hands and his words--those words that had hurt because somehow, deep down in that sick part of my head, I just hadn't expected him to be like everyone else.

Sighing, I sat up on my bed and instinctively looked over at Brooke's side of the room. It was empty. Still empty.

I also happened to look over at the wall clock as well and everything momentarily stilled when I noticed the time.

"Oh...no...fuck." My eyes widened and then I was scrambling out of bed, wincing and cursing as I grabbed the first few things I could find within my clothes, that hopefully didn't smell like booze, before running inside the bathroom.

I could not afford to skip any more classes.

•••

Turns out I skipped them. All of them. Or not skipped them quite exactly but missed them, because by the time I'd been done with a shower, I'd been too busy trying not to hyperventilate too much when I'd looked in the mirror and noticed the two reddish bruise-like hickeys on my neck, and then I'd been pulling all my scarves out because I couldn't just walk out of here looking like that.