Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

Back to Brandon

"Can I ask a clarifying question? Not counting against my twenty."

"Thirteen now," Sam reminds me. "But sure."

"What do you know?"

Sam rests his chin on the rails of my truck bed. "God. You're asking a question with eight years worth of answers, Grey," he tells me. With sudden clarity, I understand for the first time why his name seemed familiar when I saw it on that piece of paper outside Admissions.

"You went to camp with Brandon." It's not a question.

Sam nods.

"Of course," I say, more to myself than him. I should have caught that the Sam Evans at Ryder was the same kid Brandon used to regale me with stories about at the end of his summers.

"I went to camp with him and I've heard a lot about you," Sam says. "And I want to know what you did the summer before freshman year that made him hate you so much."

I bristle at the accusation. "I didn't do anything to Brandon," I snap, pushing away from the truck and taking a few steps back.

"And that's an honest answer?"

I'm coming off my buzz, but I can still feel the alcohol. It heightens my emotions and spurs my anger. My yes comes through gritted teeth.

Even in the dark, even with a face covered in bruises and blood, I can tell that Sam's annoyed. Or he doesn't believe me. I'm finding it suddenly difficult to avoid fighting.

"What did he tell you I did?" I ask, working to keep my voice even.

"You already asked me that."

"You barely answered." When Sam opens his mouth in protest, I remind him that he already passed and his eyes narrow on me.

"No shit," he mutters from across the truck. "He's told me a lot about you, Grey. And ever since freshman year of high school, all of it was pretty fucking ugly. I've known Brandon a long time and I have a tough time imagining he made all that shit up for no reason."

I grit my teeth but stay silent. I've learned over my month at Ryder that an increase in Sam's cursing is a direct correlation to an increase in his agitation. I'm hoping this means that he'll be sharing more than planned about Brandon's little rumors.

"He told me you broke up his parents," Sam says finally.

"Of course he did." The revelation doesn't surprise me, but the liquor in my system heightens my reaction to it. I'm horrified to realize I'm suddenly on the brink of tears.

"Then tell me what really happened." I can tell by Sam's voice that he's deeply serious, but I refuse to unpack my sadness and share it with him. I want to be mad about this; I have been for a little over two years and have found it's a hell of a lot easier than being sad.

"What do you mean, 'what really happened?'" I demand. "With Brandon's parents? I have no fucking idea."

"That's a lie." He's disappointed.

"What happened to trusting each other?'"

"Tell me the god damn truth!"

I'm surprised by this outburst, Sam's voice carrying through the silent woods.

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

Sam huffs an angry breath from across the truck bed. "If you're not going to tell me what really happened, I don't owe you shit."