Page 119 of Cuts like a Knife
Please. He’d be just like everybody else. Gone.
Chapter Thirty One
Drew grabs my wrist and pulls my hand off and away from his mouth. He’s still trying to get me to look at him, but I won’t. I can’t. My eyes stay firmly on the seat between us. Eye contact is bad. If I’m not careful, we’ll make eye contact and I’ll do something really stupid like cry or something.
“Please, Lex,” he says, using his gentle ‘don’t-poke-the-bear’ voice again. His hand is still on my wrist. “Just tell me what’s going on. Talk to me. Wouldn’t it be easier? Wouldn’t it help?”
A tiny part of my heart wavers. He’s right about one thing. I’ve known him forever. Technically, for his entire life. So maybe if I were going to tell anyone, he would be a good candidate. But the thing is, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m never going to tell anyone.
I’ve put it behind me. That’s what Eve Wolf said to do and she wasn’t wrong. Let it go. Be like … Elsa341.
I’m never going to talk about it. To anyone. No one. Ever.
I’m taking it to my damn grave and that’s that.
Suddenly, my phone starts buzzing.
No. Not my phone. My phone is dead342.
Drew is right about one thing. My leap off the yacht wasn’t well-thought-out. I’ve bricked my phone, humiliated myself, and given myself a wicked case of thigh chafe. And for what? For nothing.
Drew’s phone is the one that’s buzzing. He pulls it out of his (dry) pocket and I see a series of texts coming in fast343.
“Is that my sister?”
He ignores me, his eyes on the screen.
More messages are coming in. I see more recognizable avatars. Is he getting a message from Bex?!
“Give me that!” I say as I try to snatch the phone from his hand, but he shields it, lifting it out of my reach.
“Get out of it,” he says344.
“Those are my sisters texting you. That’s my twin,” I’m indignant.
“Yeah, and they’re my friends and they’re texting me, not you.”
“Only because my phone is dead.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
Forward-thinking bastard.
For a second I’m transported to the moment when his strong arms encircled me in the water. The press of his wet, hard chest against my back. His hot breath on my neck, his voice in my ear.
And then …the shame345.
“Will you at least tell me what they’re saying?” I ask. “My family?”
“Bex is just making sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because you jumped off a yacht, obviously.”
“But how does she know that? Oh my god, you didn’t tell her? Who else have you told? What have you told them?”
My heart is pounding as the myriad possibilities for how far the truth about me has already spread start racing through my brain.
