Tell Me When (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Amber

Two days later my stomach does several backflips as I make my way down the aisle to my math instructor. With shaky hands, I take the test paper from him but avoid checking the grade.

Once I’m back in my seat, I place the test on my desk, face down, and stare at it for several excruciating seconds. The instructor continues calling out names over the murmur of voices comparing test scores and answers.

Just remember to breathe.
I do what Marcus told me to do Monday before I took the test. I take a long slow breath and flip it over. On top of the page, scrawled in red ink, is the mark I never thought I’d come close to achieving in this class: Ninety-three percent.

I did it. I can’t believe I did. Though I wouldn’t have come close to that if it hadn’t been for Marcus.

I remove my phone from my backpack and send him a text: 93 on math test!!!

Next, I send Jordan a message: Want to see movie tonight? Got A on math test. Need to celebrate.

By the time class finishes an hour later, it feels like I’ve been sitting here for sixty hours instead of sixty minutes. My grade might have picked up, but my love for the subject hasn’t. I pack up my stuff and check my phone. Nothing from Marcus. Jordan says she wants to see
Hearts on Fire.
A romantic comedy. But even knowing that, the combination of words makes it hard to breathe and sends me off balance.

I weave my way through the crowded hallway. I don’t bother using a different exit to the one I used Monday. I need some air. And I need it now.

Once outside, the chilly wind swirling around me, I walk over to a tree in the middle of the grass. Dry leaves crunch under foot, and I lean against the thick trunk. While I watch the world walk past and regain my equilibrium, I try not to think about Trent or Michael or Paul or the fire.

The guy from my bio class who attacked me at the party walks toward me, looks in my direction, pales, and turns abruptly on the spot. He can’t get away from me fast enough. I’ve seen him a few times in class since that night, but he’s made a conscious effort to avoid me.

I text Jordan: Sounds good.

Right now, a romantic comedy sounds like a good distraction, despite the stupid title.

“Congratulations,” a low, sexy voice says in my ear. A shriek tumbles from my mouth.

I whirl around, and the breath I was fighting to get back after class catches in my throat at the sight of Marcus.

“Guess I’m not such a bad tutor after all?” he says, tone smug.

I laugh. “No, I guess not.” Still overjoyed at my grade, I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Since the incident the other day after the flashback at the youth center, the tension between us has faded. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.

He pulls me close so our bodies almost touch. “You’re gonna have to do better than that Friday night, if you’re planning to convince guys you’re not my cousin.”

I laugh and poke his rock-hard chest with my finger. “That was a thank-you kiss. Remember, I’m paying you to chase guys off, not to get into my pants. If I want to kiss you, I’ll do it because I want to, and not because you’re using this fake boyfriend thing to get the same thing from me that you get from all your other girls.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then says, “I’ll try and remember that.” I almost melt into a puddle at the sound of his rough voice. Like every girl before me and every girl after me. Not good. Not good at all.

His intense gaze focuses on my eyes and then my lips. His head moves toward mine and he waits. I meet him partway before he brushes his lips against mine, making no demands, letting me know he respects my boundaries. Then he leans downs and presses his mouth on the sensitive spot below my ear.

The warm, tingling sensation from the other day is back. It spreads through my legs, turning them into cooked spaghetti. I moan softly.

No one can hear me. No one except Marcus. His lips, still against my neck, spread into a grin, and I silently curse my body’s reaction.

I try telling my body that it’s getting things wrong, that he and I have a business relationship, nothing more. Sure, he seems to enjoy teasing me, but how much of what he’s doing is part of our arrangement, and how much is genuine?

An image of Tammara joins the debate in my head, and brings it to a crashing end.

I pull away from his arms, even though my body screams for me to stay put. Well, pull away as far as I can with his arms still around me, which isn’t far.

“Chase and I are gonna check out a local band tonight. Along for the Ride. They’re like a cross between Aerosmith and Bon Jovi. You wanna come? I thought we could celebrate your A.”

“Jordan and I have plans to see
Hearts on Fire,
” I say, working to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I used to love seeing live bands with my friends, and this one sounds like my kind of music.

“How ’bout Chase and I join you guys, then you and Jordan can see the band with us. They won’t be on till later anyway.”

“You do realize the movie’s a chick flick, right?” The only guys I could imagine wanting to see it willingly are those hoping to get laid.

He chuckles. “I’m sure Chase and I can handle it.”

“Just so we’ve got it straight, this isn’t a date.”

“Just so we’ve got this straight,” he replies. “I don’t date.”

A small part of me pouts at that news. The rest of me is relieved. “Good, then we’re on the same page.”

Marcus leaves after telling me he and Chase will meet us at the dorm. Even though it’s not a date, he figured he would drive us to the movie then the bar where the band is playing. I argued against it but in the end I let him win.

I text Jordan to tell her about the change of plan, and that we can cancel on the guys if she wants. I make it clear we’re going as friends and it’s not a date. Last thing I need is for her to think I’m setting her up with Chase, even though she has a boyfriend.

As I walk back to the dorm, after stopping off at the library, Jordan texts me again: Sounds great

To my surprise, Marcus and Chase are already waiting outside my residence building when I arrive, standing at the bottom of the steps to the main entrance. Chase gives me a goofy grin.

“I just need to change,” I tell the guys. “Jordan should be here in a minute.”

“There she is,” Chase says, looking over my shoulder.

I turn to see my friend approach with what looks like a bouquet of flowers wrapped in striped paper.

“You’re not gonna believe this.” The words rush from her mouth like a speeding train. “Garrett finally called. He’s been sick with the flu and forgot to charge his phone. That’s why he wasn’t responding to my texts and calls.” She rips the tape away from the paper and removes a dozen red roses from the wrapping.

* * *

I
open my eyes and try to shake off the exhaustion smothering me.

“
Am-ber.
I
have a surprise for you.
”
The voice is soothing
,
but I know he’s trying to lull me into believing everything will be all right.
That I’m safe.
He always does that before the torture begins.

I
close my eyes
,
desperate for the exhaustion to knock me out again.
Anything is better than what he has planned.

A
small meow next to me on the bed is a splash of cold water in the face.
If I don’t do what I’m told
,
Smoky’ll be hurt.
It’s all a game to Paul.
A
sadistic game.

The sweet smell of roses taunts me.
I
must be dreaming.
This prison doesn’t smell like roses.
It usually smells like death waiting eagerly for its turn.

I
turn my head toward the smell and crack open my eyelids.
The bed is covered with hundreds of red rose petals.
It’s like a sea of blood.

“
Am-ber.
It’s time.
”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Marcus

It’s like last time. Amber’s standing in front of me one moment, gone the next. All that remains is her body. But unlike last time, she doesn’t curl in a ball. She stands in a trance, staring at the roses like they’re a five-headed monster, all blood drained from her face.

“Amber,” Jordan says, gaping at her friend. “What’s wrong?”

Amber doesn’t answer. She just keeps staring at those goddamn roses.

“Jordan,” I say, a little too sharply. She turns to me, pale, either because of what’s happening to Amber or because of me. I have no idea which. “You need to get those roses away from her. Put them in your room.”

She frowns. “B-but I can’t leave her. She’s my friend.”

“I know, but something about those roses is scaring her.”

The confusion on her face deepens. “I don’t get it.”

I don’t have time for this. “Jordan,” I snap, “just take them upstairs, then come right back.”

She looks at Chase, who nods even though he’s as clueless about what’s going on as she is. I will her to do what I said—and now. I need to deal with Amber, but I’m not sure if that’s possible as long as she’s lost in the roses.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Jordan sprints up the steps and disappears through the main doors.

I return my attention to Amber. “Kitten, it’s okay. You’re safe.” I start to reach out to hold her, but then freeze. What if I make things worse by touching her? Fuck. “It’s me, Marcus. Can you come back to me? Everything’s going to be okay.”

She sways unsteadily on her feet. Before I can reach her, she stumbles, smacking her head on the metal railing. I ease her to the ground.

Blood gushes from above her right eye. “You’re going to be all right, Kitten.” I remove my jacket and slide it under her head, then whip off my T-shirt and press it against the cut. She nods but I’m not sure if she understands what’s going on. Her eyes are a little out of focus.

Chase crouches next to us. “What the hell happened?” His gaze is locked on Amber but the question’s directed at me.

“I’m not sure. Dave Williams thinks she has post-traumatic stress disorder.”

I can tell Chase wants to ask more questions but is saving them for later.

“Please don’t tell Jordan,” Amber whispers. “She doesn’t know. I don’t want anyone to know.”

I have a feeling it’s not the PTSD she wants kept secret. It’s what led to it that she doesn’t want anyone to know. And it goes beyond being trapped in a burning building.

My stomach churns as I think about my brother and the secrets he was forced to keep. That we were both forced to keep.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Chase and I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want.”

She gives a small nod and grimaces. Then she smiles. “I must have hit my head harder than I realized. You’re half-naked.”

I laugh. Until she said it, I’d forgotten about that. I hadn’t even noticed the chill October air nipping at my skin. “Like what you see?”

“Apparently I’m not the only one.” Her eyes move meaningfully to the side. I turn to see what she’s talking about.

Four or five girls are giggling and watching me like I’m a Calvin Klein model in nothing but my boxers. Normally that wouldn’t bother me. Normally I’d make the most of the situation and get laid. This time irritation gnaws at me. Amber’s hurt and they don’t give a damn.

I turn back to Amber and let her last words push away the irritation. At least she likes what she sees. For some reason, her opinion is the only one that matters.

I lift my T-shirt from her wound. It’s still bleeding. “You need stitches. Can you stand or should I carry you?”

She smiles softly. “I think I can stand.”

She presses her hand on my T-shirt, keeping it in place, and with her free arm, pushes herself up so she’s sitting. I slip my arm around her back and help her stand. She leans into me, surrounding me with her strawberry scent. I envelope her in my arms while Chase watches, an amused smile on his face, my leather jacket in his hand.

Chase has waited a long time to see me act like this around a girl, which is why he’s finding the situation so humorous.

“Oh God!” Jordan gasps and rushes down the stairs. “Are you hurt?” Unlike the other girls, she doesn’t seem to notice I’m half-naked. She’s only concerned about her friend. My appreciation for her climbs several notches.

Jordan starts rummaging through her purse. “I’ve got some Band-Aids in here somewhere.”

“It won’t be enough,” Chase explains. “We need to take her to the hospital. She needs stitches and she could have a concussion.”

“Can you drive?” I ask him.

He nods. “I’ll meet you out back.” He tosses me my jacket after grabbing my keys from the pocket, and runs toward the parking lot to get my car, leaving Jordan with me and Amber. Though from the looks he’s been throwing Jordan, I doubt he’d have complained if she’d joined him. Too bad she has a boyfriend.

A sudden urge to hit her boyfriend, or whoever sent her the roses, slams into me. If it hadn’t been for him and his damn roses, Kitten wouldn’t be hurt. And I wouldn’t be standing here with her pressed against me. Trusting me when I don’t deserve her trust. So maybe I should send
him
roses to thank him, instead.

“What happened?” Jordan asks as I slip on my jacket. The girls who were staring at me sigh and walk off.

“I tripped,” Amber tells her.

“No, before that.”

Eyes wide, Amber looks at me for answers. I’m not sure she even knows what happened. “It was just one of my anxiety attacks.”

Her body starts shaking in my arms. She might not remember what just happened, but she does remember a terrifying memory with roses. I tighten my hold on her, and not for the first time, wish I could do more. I did some research the other day on PTSD and found a book that I’m reading. But I’m still a long way from understanding how to help her, especially since I don’t know what happened to her to begin with.

We don’t have to wait long before Chase drives up. I help Amber into the backseat and join her, forcing Jordan to sit up front. Amber closes her eyes and leans her head against the side window. Dark half moons shadow under her eyes, appearing even darker against her pale skin. She’s exhausted. Shit. How much sleep
has
she been getting lately?

She doesn’t look too comfortable leaning against the window. I tap her thigh. She opens her eyes and I gesture at my lap. She hesitates for a heartbeat before lying down and using my legs as a pillow. Naturally, my junk gets the situation all wrong and jerks to life. Crap. I try to remember the look of horror on Amber’s face when she realized I was the one touching her the other night instead of her dead boyfriend.

But that’s not the face I see in my head. It’s her reaction to my kiss and my touch, it’s her sexy moans, that find their way in.

I bite my lip hard, willing my junk to get the message and stop reacting this way around Amber. It’s a huge mistake. Girls like her aren’t interested in guys like me. Girls like her deserve so much more than what I can give, beyond a great time in bed—and several other places.

A few minutes later, her breathing is slow and even. My heart twists painfully at how fragile she looks, yet at the same time, she looks oddly at peace.

At the hospital, we sit in the crowded waiting room for Amber’s name to be called. Kitten asks Jordan about her boyfriend while Chase and I discuss our engineering project. Around us the injured, the sick, the family members waiting for news of a loved one become a kaleidoscope of emotion.

It feels like forever before Amber goes back to the examining room, with Jordan by her side. Long enough for Jordan and Chase to grab some pizza for us from the cafeteria, as well as chicken noodle soup for Amber and me. Though from the mischievous look on Amber’s face, I’m guessing the soup was her idea.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with Amber?” Chase asks the moment she disappears through the double doors.

“Like I said, Dave thinks she has post-traumatic stress disorder. Something happened to her, but she won’t tell me what.”

“No, I don’t mean that. If Amber had been any other girl, you’d have let someone else, mostly likely Jordan, deal with it. We wouldn’t be here. The Marcus I know doesn’t care about girls, other than for sex.” He chuckles. “It’s about time you stop treating girls like crap. Meg would be proud.”

“I thought you hated Tammara.”

“Tammara isn’t a girl. She’s a vampire out for blood.”

I roll my eyes. I’ve never understood why those two don’t like each other. Not that I’ve bothered to ask.

“I’ve know what you’ve been doing,” Chase says, apparently on a roll.

“What?” I ask, having no idea what he’s talking about.

“Just because your mom’s a bitch who doesn’t know what love is, doesn’t mean all girls are like that. Other than Tammara. She’s only capable of loving herself.”

I frown. “When did you become such a girl?”

“When I got sick of you beating yourself up over something that wasn’t your fault.”