Without Scars (31 page)

Camryn wasn’t even listening. Silhouettes were coming together and embracing in the apartment now, so relief washed over me. “God her brother is so cute…” Camryn pressed me down in my seat with more force than I expected out of someone her size, leaned over me, and looked into Nikki’s apartment as well. “He’d probably never go for someone like me, though.”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Your brain injury?” She nodded. “I bet that’s hard. And people generally suck, kiddo. You just gotta close ranks and keep good people around you who’ll do their very best to understand. There are some out there, okay?”

She nodded. “So, if you love her, then why’d you guys stop fucking?”

“I screwed up,” I admitted. “That got in the way of the fucking.”

“Why would you mess things up with
her
? Nicole is my favorite person.”

“You should tell her that,” I said as I cranked the ignition. “She’d love to hear it from you. Do you ever get mad at her for what happened, honestly?”

“All the time. But she’s the only person who doesn’t really get mad at
me.”
With a smile, she slumped back down in her seat and put her seatbelt on. “I guess she knows what it’s like to be different, too.”

“So, does the new guy make her happy?”

“I think so…”

“Well, she’s pretty special…I get it…” I dropped Camryn off and went straight to Fallon’s. She wasn’t returning any of my texts, and I was starting to
really
worry about her. Plus, this was the first and last time I was going to try to give her back her drugs; I was dumping them today. Pree and Ahsha had also told me she’d recently cleared out her locker and withdrawn from classes because her parents wanted to homeschool her. That didn’t sound like something Fallon would’ve willingly agreed to.

I was permanently on the guard gate entrance list where she lived, so the guard waved me in and I parked where I usually did.
Fall, where are you? I’m outside
, I texted.
I’d never been inside Fallon’s family’s condo before, so I didn’t even know the number. As I was getting out of the car, my phone vibrated and it flashed Nikki’s name just as I walked inside. “Hi. Everything okay? Something happen? I can get back there in twenty minutes—”

“So, you finally left, huh? Good, because there are laws against stalking…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. How’d my mac and cheese go over?” I stepped into the spacious lobby. There was no way to know where in this palatial tower the Gregorys lived but there was a concierge.

“Very well. I’ve been getting compliments. I did a great job with it.”

“You took credit. That’s fucked-up, Nik. You couldn’t claim the pie instead?” I pulled the phone away from my mouth to speak with the guy at the desk. “I need to reach the Gregorys, please.” Who was I going to say I was? Fallon’s tutor? Ah. The app, which I’d barely worked on. Anyway, I was definitely her tutor now.

“Nope. The mac and cheese is winning right now, so the story is I made it. Anyway, I needed to tell you thank you for today but I should go.”

“Call me later and tell me about everything?” In the moment I decided to take a chance, give us the chance to…I didn’t know. We’d been so lost to each other when I lost myself.

“Uh…I can’t…I have…it’s…” The hesitation spoke for her and it lacerated my insides. The guy. She had plans with him. Why wouldn’t she? Anyone who could look at that woman, scars and all, and not see what was truly there, and who wouldn’t do anything to be worthy of her, was an idiot.

“Right. You don’t know how long dinner is going to run,” I said, giving her an out. It was like downing poison. “You should focus on them.”

The guy at the desk tensed up, clearly growing impatient that I was trying to have more than one conversation at once. “Sir, are the Gregorys expecting you?”

“I gotta go, Nik.” I hung up. Nik needed to go, too. She needed to
go
and be happy. That was what she’d always deserved. “It’s very important that I see Fallon Gregory. My name is Charlie Dara. I’m on the guard gate list.” I passed him my driver’s license.

“Unfortunately, the Gregorys aren’t receiving any guests who aren’t on this specific visitors list at this time,” he said, tapping the computer screen. “Would you like to leave a written message?”
What the hell?
I said no and thanked him and headed for the exit. I nearly bumped into an elderly man and three small kids who were walking into the building. It was that Mr. George guy. I flashed a smile and headed to my car. He could probably tell me which condo the Gregorys lived in. Maybe he wouldn’t, but it was probably worth the attempt of asking.

“That’s definitely him. He’s the one!” When I turned, he was pointing at me. Then I saw them. All of them.

Cops. With guns drawn. At me.

Shit. SHIT.

“Put your hands up now!” one of them yelled. I hesitated because this didn’t seem right. Or real. Everything slowed down around me. They had the wrong person. They had to. I lifted my arms and tried to catch my breath. “Get on the ground now.” I did that next and pressed my forehead to the asphalt. I was handcuffed and brought back up to my feet. A female officer was the first person I made eye contact with. She smiled the way someone does before they did the verbal equivalent of decapitating you.

“Mr. Dara, you’re under arrest.”

Off with my head.

***

There are two things that make weekend arrests
really
shitty:

1. Human beings are usually on their worst behavior on Friday and Saturday nights, so the cells are jam-packed and everyone’s cranky or drunk or both.
   
2. You’ll most likely be in there until Tuesday.
   

My mom arrived on Monday as my attorney, and she was fuming when they brought her to the room where I was waiting. She was ready to kick my ass, but I was so happy to see her. She was the first person I was going to talk to in days. I hadn’t spoken to the cops at all after being booked into the jail. Mom’s idea of family night for us was playing a board game about the U.S. Constitution; I knew my rights, and I knew I didn’t have to say shit.

“Get those handcuffs off him! He’s my son,” she ordered. As much as she would try, she’d never be able to pull off being a lawyer today. Not when her son was locked up. She tapped her foot anxiously as an officer uncuffed me, and she glared at him until he left the room. “Are you okay? Did they Mirandize you? Did they read you your rights?”

“Yeah.” I massaged my wrists. “I’m fine. They did everything by the book here.”

“Good,” she whispered, but there was still fright on her face. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay…” Mom sighed and took a legal pad from her briefcase. “Charlie, why the hell were there pill bottles in your car with Fallon Gregory’s name on them…filled with marijuana?”

Fallon’s weed. The shit I wanted to give back to her. Goddammit.

“Someone called the police. They said they’d seen you buying drugs in that condominium complex before, from Fallon Gregory. When the cops arrived, the witness pointed out your car. The police claim they detected the scent of unburned marijuana through your open car window, and also saw a baggie sticking out from under your seat. It had a single amphetamine pill in it. Those things combined with the witness ID gave them probable cause to arrest you, and then they searched the car and found the other bottles in your glove box. Definitely something we’ll try to get excluded from evidence by questioning the validity of the search.” She jotted down a few notes. “You were not planning to sell it, right?”

I swallowed down but didn’t answer.

“There have been some rumors going around Prep for a while now that there were a lot of drugs being bought and sold on the grounds. Everything from
marijuana
to depression meds to anti-anxiety pills to ADHD meds. Apparently, there were pain pills and cocaine, too. Fallon was the alleged ringleader. The police have been looking at social media and text messages and call records, too. They’ve been operating something of a sting using students…”

“Shit.” What the fuck? Her last text to me had been some kind of a warning? Jesus Fucking Christ. It was a goddamn warning. For a moment, I laughed to myself, because if I were being really fucking honest here, I couldn’t have written a script this good.

“Honey?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Is Fallon in a lot of trouble?”

“Yes. It looks that way. She was arrested yesterday. One of the kids blew the whole thing up a few weeks ago. His dad caught him with drugs, he broke down and confessed, and they went to the police.” I bet it was Elliott. Had to be. He was a shitty enough dealer to get caught. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Not only had I probably been buying drugs from a
fucking
narc, but I’d also been stupid enough to turn Fallon’s drug dealing into a story. Couldn’t forget that part. I was screwed. I would probably screw Fallon in the process, too. Add that on top of almost poisoning one of the brightest lights in my life. Fucking shit. “According to Fallon’s attorney, the boy was just pissed because they wouldn’t let him into the popular group.”

“That’s all she admitted to?”

“She said he wanted to be a part of the popular kids, and that’s really what this is about. She said she doesn’t know anything about drugs. It just so happens that all the other kids who were arrested, too, are in this popular group. Anyway, the kid told his dad that he’d sold a few things only because they pressured him to—he gave him names and told him how he’d gotten some of the drugs. Somehow, it turned into a sting operation. Anyway, they nabbed six students. They’re probably going to charge them with distribution and conspiracy to distribute. We talked to the girls for an hour today, and they assured us that although they knew about the drugs at Prep, they played no part in it.” She sighed. “I was relieved, Charlie. And now…” She rubbed her temples. “I can’t even think straight. Please tell me this is all a big, complicated mistake.”

“My arraignment is definitely tomorrow?”

“Yes. We’ll hear the charges and hopefully get you out on bail.”

“Hopefully?”

“You remember Sheila? She’s going to take over the case. She’s good. You’ll get out most likely tomorrow or the day after.” I nodded. She couldn’t resist talking in legal probabilities. “Is this the trouble you were telling me about, Charlie?”

I wasn’t ready for her disappointment. “I should go. I haven’t slept much. I want to be ready for court tomorrow. I love you.” I signaled for the officer and I was led out of the room.

Chapter Seventeen

Nikki

You can’t imagine how I felt in the hospital when the memories from that night came back. You almost killed me, Nicole. You almost killed an entire family, too. We can’t pretend that truth won’t always be there. I’ve done my best to not treat you any differently as your father, someone who loves you very, very much. I hope that I have not treated you differently because I would be so angry with myself, but I do live with what you did. Every day. It doesn’t mean you don’t mean the world to Mom and me. It doesn’t mean I don’t cherish you just as much now as the moment the doctor handed you to me. You are everything to me.

Love you always, Butterfly,

Dad

I closed the card and took a deep breath. “I’ve been reading it over and over. It’s fair, right?” Dinner wasn’t horrible at all, and he did put this card in the mail. Hurt feelings wouldn’t go away overnight, on either side, but at least lines of communication were reopened. “It’s a start, right?” Lux, who was sitting on my lap, shook her head. “Oh, what do you know…you eat your boogers.”

“Wow, Nikki, that’s a
lot
of blush,” Samira said from behind me, and I spun away from the lighted vanity.

“Yeah, we got carried away.” It was chaotic back here as everyone tried to get ready for the musical’s opening night. Way too much amusement for a toddler who was quick on her feet, and my solution, of course, was to let a baby put makeup on me.

“You look like me in middle school.” Samira chuckled as she picked up her daughter and sat in the chair next to me. I grabbed a few sheets of makeup remover wipes and cleaned my cheeks. “He’s here. I passed him on the way to the bathroom.”

“Oh.” My hand trembled as I pushed small sparkly decorative combs through my hair on either side to keep it out of my face.

“Have you guys talked since he got out?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Texting a little. Every other day. A phone call or two. Like friends. We were good as friends. But I don’t think I can go back to a friendship fully, Samira. I don’t really know what he wants and part of me is afraid to ask because maybe he doesn’t think there’s anything left here, especially if our time is limited. It’s awful to be thinking about rekindling a relationship when he’s got so much on his plate, but I miss him so badly.” There was also something he needed to hear me say, regardless of what the future held.

“He
is
stressed out,” she explained. “But I also think he’s just punishing himself a little right now with you.”

When the stage manager started shouting over the noise, I shooed Samira out, gave everyone in
West Side Story
a quick pep talk, and walked out to the audience. Opening night was almost a packed house. Tyler stood up and clapped like he was planning to start a standing ovation. I waved hard and mouthed for him to sit down. But I couldn’t stop smiling. Goddamn hope. It was inescapable.

Charlie rose from where he was sitting, and then he walked down the aisle toward me. “Hey.” I saw his grip on a bouquet of flowers tighten before he handed it to me. Then his hands moved around my waist, and he pressed me against him. “I have no doubt that it’s going to kick ass.”

“Thanks…” I said, smiling as he backed away. I shivered a little. Oh yeah, Friendship 2.0 with Charlie was going to suck. “Enjoy the…” I trailed off when he pulled me close again.

“Even though I am probably never going to stop being in love with you, I was going to let you go today,” he whispered, “and you were going to survive. But you deserve better than
survival
, Nik. You should have a world full of beauty, and kindness, and friendship, and love. You deserve all of that—everything you give and
are,
two-fold.
I
was the lucky one to have you love me back, so I must’ve done something right along the way. I hope those things outweigh all the wrong, and I hope my promise to do those
right
things
better
is enough in this moment. I just want the chance to put better love in the places where I hurt you, while I still have time. If I can’t, then just know that I’m so sorry for hurting you and no matter what, Nik, you’ll always be what forever looks like to me.” His lips brushed my cheek so close to my mouth.

Wow. Oh. Wow. Knees? Weak. Other bones? Nonexistent. And I guess he was still going to kiss his girl when he wanted to kiss his girl.

Oh crap.

I was definitely still his girl.

The auditorium lights dimmed and brightened repeatedly overhead before a voice on the PA system announced that the show was starting. Charlie rushed off before I could say anything.

I went backstage and watched the musical go by in a blur. I noticed a single mistake—one that only someone with a dance background would catch—but otherwise it was spectacular. At least the parts I saw when I wasn’t staring at Charlie. He sneaked out while the kids were getting a well-deserved second standing ovation. I was out of there, too, and it was completely irresponsible and unprofessional to leave, but I couldn’t stay. I went straight to the Dara house after Samira texted to tell me that was probably where he’d gone. He was trying to spend as much time with his family as possible. He opened the door after my fourth round of impatient and violent knocks, looking surprised.

“I expected a guy
here to kick my ass
the way you were knocking,” he said as he let me in. He walked to the couch and unpaused whatever it was he’d been watching.

My head was spinning. “Uh…hi. You didn’t stay. I wanted to thank you for the flowers,” I blurted out as I sat next to him on the couch.

“You
hate
flowers,” he said, smiling.

“You’re right…” Clearing my throat, I turned toward him completely. “Look, all I’ve done since we met is choose you, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon…” Charlie palmed my knee. A breath rushed out of me, and I drifted outside of myself. For a moment’s eternity not a thing moved. No blinks. No heartbeats. No breaths.

Then his fingers ran along my thigh. It was a light sensation, but I’d been hungering for it so much it made my skin buzz, like my blood was carrying electricity. The touch sparked a wildfire in my chest. “Please, keep going…” I whispered. “Don’t stop.” His mouth hit mine hard; his tongue was inside within a beat—and it tasted like every memory of us. I grasped the back of his neck with both hands. He grabbed fistfuls of my hair, arching me against him.

Oh fuck yes. None of that gentle shit. Ever.

With our lips crushed, we kissed roughly, until his scruff burned my skin; I liked the hurt. I didn’t like controlled pain, really. I preferred the kind that came from sudden, overwhelming need. Back scratches that stung and fingerprint bruises from a hard squeeze. Then legs that were wobbly for days and a pussy that throbbed every time you moved. Those reminders that you’d let someone fuck you that good. That hard.

And I was going to let Charlie fuck me that good and that hard.

I unbuttoned his shirt to the tail, trying not to rip it. He wrestled it off. His grip on my hair was even tighter when I clutched his dick through his pants.

Then button. Zipper. Boxers. Cock.

Reaching beneath my dress, Charlie pulled my underwear down. He was fingering me before it reached my ankles. When I brought his head to my chest, he licked my nipples, warming my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“Your family…” I whispered.

“Everyone will be out for a while…”

“No…the couch…their couch…” Still ruining things at people’s houses. My body didn’t give a fuck, though. My head tipped back until it hit the armrest. Charlie lifted me off the couch.

We made it as far as the staircase.

My back hit the carpeted steps, and he guided his dick into me in a dizzying push. I curled my leg low around his hips and gripped his ass. His mouth was mashed to mine, and we kissed each other raw. I didn’t want to hear how beautiful I was or how it felt to be inside me. I just wanted to be touched, and marked, and fucked. By Charlie. Only by Charlie.

He thrust slowly but hard. My legs quaked as viral heat swirled in my center, and I cried out in sharp breaths. Charlie’s forehead rocked against mine. He spread my knees wide, pushing his hips harder and plunging in farther as the tremors took over. I came and his body went rigid right away. I hugged him, legs folded around his back, absorbing his shudders against my chest. He held me, too, saying my name until he stilled.

“We really gotta figure out how to have sex in a bed again,” I said. My fingers skidded over the fading indentation from my teeth on his shoulder. Didn’t even remember doing that.

“Again. I like again.” Charlie laughed. He didn’t pull out of me right away but he kissed me softly. Cradling my face, he said, “Is it selfish that I want you to fall in love with me like you did before? That I want to be a person who deserves what’s in your heart again?”

“I already am. You already are. You think I
really
came over here just to thank you for the flowers?”

Charlie laughed again as he stood. “You want to come up to my room? You’d be the first non-relative girl ever. Don’t count Samira; she’s fam.” He lifted me to my feet after pulling his pants up.

“I don’t believe that for one second, Dara,” I said as he yanked me—panty-less—up to the second floor landing. I respected the Daras, so I wasn’t okay with leaving my Macy’s Intimates on their living room floor.

Charlie pushed a door open, and it was like being told an amazing secret: here was the place where the boy who would grow into the man you love slept and wrote, and was molded into the beautiful human being you had to get robbed to find.

“Uh…my parents updated the furniture for visiting guests, but it’s pretty much the same.” We sat on the bed. Side by the side, on the edge.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered. I collapsed against him, hugging him and crying.

“I’m so sorry. I love you and I’m so sorry.” He held me. He squeezed. He let me cry. God, crying like this after sex was just as
fucking stupid
as I’d always imagined it was.

“So…um…how are you?” I asked awkwardly when I finally settled down.

“I’m good, Nik,” he said against my forehead. “I’m good, for the time being. We’re filming the very last episode of
How to Fuck up a Friendship.
I’m still working through all my mental shit, aside from what else is going on. I’m better, though. Minding myself.”

“If it’s any consolation, your dick looked
amazing
in your full frontal episode
.
” We were both cracking up in seconds. I missed us so much, and I sighed when he kissed my cheek.

“I did something I think you’ll be proud of me for.”

“Besides showing your dick?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Besides showing my dick. I’ve been writing a scene about confronting Mauser, telling him everything I’ve wanted to say the past few years. It’s been cathartic.”

“Oh right. Fiction is the chance to do what you didn’t or couldn’t,” I said, remembering. “What about Deacon? You two work things out?”

“He’s trying to be a better friend. He always thought I wasn’t grateful for the things I have. He knows that’s not true. I wouldn’t expect a fully reformed asshole or anything, though.”

“No surprise there. How else would the douchey t-shirt market stay afloat? Hey, um, I have something for you. I’ve been carrying it with me a while now, wondering when I’d have a proper chance to give it to you and tell you why I have it. It’s especially important now.” I felt his quizzical stare on my back as I headed down to the living room for my bag (and underwear). He was still looking at the doorway in confusion when I returned. “Two years ago, I clipped my own wings. And since you met me you haven’t cared that I couldn’t fly. I realized that walking is okay, too. And that it doesn’t mean I’ll never fly again, either. Ugh. I’m not really good with words. All I mean to say is, I think you awaken so much in people. Your strength is the way you see straight through to other people’s essence—their goodness, what’s under all the armor and distance we build around ourselves, because you still think it matters to pay attention beyond one hundred and forty characters. But this is also your weakness. It makes you so incapable of seeing what
you
are, and what’s inside you.” I placed a journal he’d been keeping when he was younger in his hand.

“Whoa. Real throwback. How the hell did you get this?” he asked excitedly.

“All I do with your mom is talk about you. She’s been keeping this with her since you went to college. She didn’t want it in attic storage here at the house. She reluctantly let me borrow it. I’ve been reading it. So, you had a serious crush on Jennifer Lopez once, huh?”

He snickered. “Still do. Totally wanted to give her a cool action role.”

“Just that?” I teased.

“Uh…yeah…”

I flipped to a page. “‘Charlie, age ten. My plans: I will write a better script than
The Godfather
.’”

“Holy shit. I used to sneak and watch my father’s DVDs. God, I was ambitious.”

“I’ve enjoyed reading this.
You
should read this. I want your younger self to tell you everything your older self has forgotten, Charlie. That little boy was such a big dreamer. He was naïve. And a little arrogant. But he was ready to conquer the world. No one was going to stop him. You owe him, Charlie. He had high hopes for you. I don’t mean successes over failures. You owe him jumping in feet first. Blindly. You owe him not looking back and not holding back. You owe him to treat yourself the way you treat other people. You owe him to treat yourself
better
, period. He believed in who you are
right now
. Don’t let him down. Because you’re home to me, Charlie Dara, but don’t forget that you’re home to
you,
too…” I let out a deep breath. He was silent, not smiling. “Are you mad at me for taking your diary?”