Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
It was him, though. He was wearing this exact suit, with that same rose pinned to his lapel. Well, not the same rose. The one from prom night died months ago. But the color. I remember the hot pink color. And I remember reaching out to straighten the boutonniere because it was crooked, same way I’d done now.
I remember feeling like my temples were going to explode, and so when Lucas said he had to run an errand for his brother, I offered to give him a ride.
I remember walking to the parking lot and unlocking the car, feeling my head get foggier and heavier.
“I told you my head hurt,” I mumble, my breaths coming out shallow. “It hurt too much to drive.”
Beads of sweat dot Lucas’s forehead. He doesn’t speak. He stares at me as if he’d seen a ghost. Still as a statue.
“You took the keys from me. You said we’d quickly go to the boathouse and then you’d drive us home.” My temples begin to throb, just as they had that night. “I don’t know why you lost control of the car. I…” I struggle to piece it together. “The drug you gave me had kicked in by then—”
“I didn’t drug you,” Lucas blurts out, his face paling. “Jesus, Casey! You think I drugged you?”
“You drugged me,” I say absently, barely registering his denial. “That’s why you offered to drive—”
“No, I drove because you weren’t feeling up to it,” he protests.
“—and then somehow you lost control and we wound up in the lake. And you left me in the car and ran away.”
“No,” Lucas moans. “That’s not how it happened.”
My ears ring. I suddenly feel a burst of pain blooming in my forehead, the result of my head smacking against the dashboard. Phantom pain flares across my chest, from the diagonal bruise left by the seat belt that kept me trapped as the water rose around my legs and my dress turned to liquid.
I can barely feel my lips when I speak. “Then how did it happen?”
“I thought you were dead.”
His confession, laced with misery and bone-deep shame, echoes in the hallway. It triggers a rush of fury, white-hot and raw, vibrating
in my fingertips.
“What happened in that car, Lucas?”
“It started even before the car,” he says with a strangled groan. He starts to pace, to move erratically. Eyes darting as if he might run away or charge me at any moment. “Gabe was dealing at the dance, but Mila was all over him and he wanted to go home with her. Hook up, whatever. He was supposed to meet Fenn, but his phone died, so he told me to tell Fenn his plans changed. He gave me his stash and asked me to take it to the boathouse. He used to hide his shit under a broken floorboard out there whenever he came to Ballard.”
Lucas stops pacing, pausing right in front of me. Every instinct tells me to get away from him while I can, but I want to know what else he can tell me about prom. And I’m terrified at what might happen if I leave and he chases me.
“I borrowed his jacket, was all ready to go. I couldn’t find Fenn, so I was typing out a message telling him not to meet Gabe, but I never sent it because you interrupted me and then I forgot. You asked where I was going and said it was too far to walk to the boathouse and offered me a ride. You said you wanted to leave anyway because your head hurt.”
“Because you drugged me,” I spit out.
“I didn’t.” His face crinkles with anguish. Fists balled. “Swear to God, I didn’t, Casey. Whatever you took, or were given, it happened before you and I ever got in that car together. By the time we started driving, you were already fucked up. Barely walking. Couldn’t keep your eyes open. I honestly thought you had a migraine at first. You kept covering your eyes like the light was hurting them. I put you in the front seat just to keep you from collapsing in the parking lot, and the whole way to the boathouse, I was trying to keep you awake.”
He slams both fists into his forehead, visibly anxious. “I suddenly had a bad feeling you were suffering from more than a migraine. I even wondered if maybe you’d gotten a concussion at the dance somehow. I kept reaching over to tap your cheek, telling you not to go to sleep. It was too dark outside. I lost the path and the car skidded, and suddenly there was water coming up over the windshield.”
Lucas sinks to the floor, huddled against the lockers.
“There was blood coming down your forehead. Water was pouring in the car. You weren’t moving. I tried to feel for a pulse, but there was nothing,” he says, holding his knees to his chest. “Not even a flutter, Case. I thought you were dead.”