Wicked Love | √

Thirteen

MY heavy eyelids flutter open slowly as the morning light streaks through my half drawn curtains. I move to lift my hands but they feel like they weigh a ton of bricks and my stomach is all twisted in heavy thick knots.

I shift to my side and my eyes land on the bottle of water sitting on my bedside table and suddenly everything from the night before comes flooding back and nausea rises from within me instantly.

My cheeks flame as deep embarrassment coats me uncomfortably like an itchy sweater. How could I accuse Preston like that? In my drunken state I spewed words I don't even think I truly believe. How could I call him a murderer? He's tutored me. He's helped me. He's pushed me.

He's...believed in me. Like no one else ever has and it's helped me grow stronger, not only in my class but in life. His voice is the voice that remains in the back of my head when I'm out shopping or with my friends or at dinner with my family or even taking an exam.

It's right at this moment the most real and scary thought emerges and it's that Preston Rothwell makes me a better person. Not the person my mother or father want me to be. Not even the person I have always thought I should be. He just makes me better. Screw what everyone else thinks. Screw everyone else and go after what I want.

At the strong and sudden realization I have uncertainty begins to wind throughout me as my hazy yet racing thoughts begin to consume me. I hate myself for saying what I said last night to Preston, more than I can even explain, but I also secretly know it might be true. I don't know anything about him. Really. He still has this air of mystery hanging around him like a heady cloud and a part of me is scared to uncover what lies underneath those dark eyes because I know I might not like it.

A small reluctant but realistic piece of me knows he may be exactly what I called him and that I shouldn't get any closer. I should stop all contact now, and if I see him I should keep my guard up and not let him be the voice in the back of my head that leads me astray from the only path I've only known.

But his voice has also become so entangled with my own I know no matter what happens next his words will always echo throughout me.

I swallow before a sigh flutters from my dry lips. Preston might not have been charged and put away for the death of a boy but everyone knows he was involved. The Heirs never do anything alone. How are we to believe Nathaniel burned a house down all by himself?

Everyone has their suspicions of what went down that night but no one actually knows besides the four boys who were there. They said they weren't by their friend's side. They testified against him. They made sure he was sent away. So many little pieces to the puzzle that don't quite fit. It doesn't add up and everyone knows it.

But no one talks too loudly about it. We just whisper the rumors in the darkness and let them linger around us like some dirty little secret the town is desperate to wash their hands of.

A sharp headache grows from between my eyes and I sit up so fast I know I'm going to lose whatever still resides in my stomach. I rarely let myself drink like I did last night because I hate feeling out of control.

And last night I was completely out of control. And shame has struck me deeply because of it. I already know my parents are going to lecture me for my actions from the night before. They are going to say I ruined Aiden's night when his party went perfectly fine but to them I was the unwanted blemish who they wished would have disappeared.

My stomach curls and I move like lightning towards the bathroom and let out the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I heave until I can't anymore and fall back against the wall for a moment as dark strands of hair stick to my clammy forehead.