“Alcohol and drug counseling.”
“I’m pre-med,” Stefan interjected before I could say anything. “People have no idea how much damage they do to their body when they drink and pop pills.”
“I don’t think they care,” I told him, feeling Robin’s hand snake over to intertwine with mine under the table.
“The liver damage, the destruction of brain cells . . . it makes no sense. Not to mention how asinine they all look stumbling out of clubs on a Friday night, drunken idiots looking to hook up.”
Robin’s grip tightened.
“Well, at least you aren’t judgmental,” I said casually, irritated as hell. What right did they have to discuss total strangers? What fucking business was it of theirs? If I made the personal choice to be totally clean, that didn’t mean I had the right to go around and point fingers at people who had a beer watching a ballgame. I didn’t go through Tyler and Riley’s kitchen and toss out their beer and whiskey. Not every drinker was an addict.
“What, you think it’s okay to get shitfaced?” he asked, looking at me with suspicion.
“I’m just saying, you need to live your life, but not someone else’s.”
“So you think my major is stupid then?” Harper asked. “Because I kind of thought I was going to be saving people’s lives.”
Not with that attitude. I held my tongue for Robin’s sake. “Sure,” I told Harper, not wanting to engage. “It’s important. I wasn’t saying otherwise.”
The music swelled in the background, a grating, high-pitched whine that made me want to stab myself in the ears. I was losing control and ruining the night for Robin. Carefully, I relaxed the muscles in my shoulders and on down through my body.
“I’m sure in your line of work you see lots of interesting types,” Christian said, with a smile that indicated he was trying to change the subject.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robin asked, and I heard the shrill irritation in her voice.
So maybe I wasn’t the only one having a bad reaction to this group.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I asked Harper.
But she shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s very professional looking. Trashy, you know? But they’re so yummy on guys.”
Did she have any idea how rude she sounded? Obviously not. Or maybe she knew full well how she sounded, she just didn’t give a shit.
I turned to Robin. “You want me to get you a coffee or anything?” Please, spring me from this hell, was what I was really thinking.
“Sure, I’ll have a latte.”
“Anyone else need anything?” I was already standing up.
They all shook their heads no and I was able to escape. Regroup. Trying to ignore the fact that a latte cost five bucks—seriously?—I figured with me gone maybe the conversation could take a different direction and be more natural.
Except it didn’t really work that way. When I got back with Robin’s coffee, or whatever the hell it was called, Harper was blasting her former roommate, who wasn’t there to defend herself. “I mean, it was like every weekend, a different guy after drinking herself to oblivion. How did she look herself in the mirror, you know?” Harper tossed her hair back. “But the final straw was when she slept with her best friend’s boyfriend. I mean, really? Who does that?”
The blood had drained from Robin’s face, and I knew without a doubt what exactly had gone down between her and Nathan.
Shit.
It was one thing to suspect, another to get confirmation. The thought of Nathan taking advantage of Robin . . . it made me sick. Furious. But those emotions had to wait. Right now I had to get her out of here.
“People make mistakes,” I told Harper. “I’m sure you have too, despite your good intentions.”
“Yeah, except I’m not a whore or a drunk.”
“My mother is an addict,” I told her. “And my aunt was an alcoholic before she died. But they are still human beings who deserve respect.” With that, I stood up, Robin’s drink still in my hand, and reached for her with the other one. “Maybe you should rethink your career choice, Harper. Otherwise, good luck.” I gave them all a nod. “Wonderful meeting you.” The sarcasm crept into my voice and I didn’t even regret it.
Robin just gave a weak smile and waved. When we were at the front door, she mumbled, “God, I’m sorry. I guess this club didn’t work out as well as the digital arts one did. I really liked the people I met there.”
“These guys were assholes,” I said, shoving open the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the night or your chance to hang out with them.”
“I don’t want to hang out with them.”
We had walked from her apartment, and as we started down the sidewalk, I burned with the need to ask her about Nathan. I didn’t know what her response was going to be, but I needed to ask. It was picking at me, and I needed the truth. I needed to know she trusted me with the truth.
“Baby.” I pulled her to a stop and took her cheeks in my hands. “What happened with Nathan?”
She jerked, her face still pale, eyes wide with fear. “What do you mean?” Her voice was uneven, breath hitched and nervous.
Making my voice as gentle as possible, I kissed her forehead and said, “I know something happened. I don’t know what. But you can tell me. You can trust me.”
She started crying and my heart sank. “I don’t know what happened. I mean, I know what happened, but the thing is, I don’t remember it.”
“You had sex with him?” I asked, wanting clarity. “It’s okay, I won’t get angry.” I didn’t think. I mean, I was angry, yeah, definitely. Mad at Nathan, mad that alcohol existed, mad that I hadn’t been there to stop her from doing something she didn’t really want to do, but I wasn’t mad at her. And if I wanted her to trust me, love me, I had to stay calm, not let her see that anger and think it was in any way directed at her.
She bit her lip and looked away. Then she looked up at me and whispered, “Yes. I guess. He seems to think we did, but I blacked out. And I woke up at his place.”
There were spots in front of my vision, I was so disgusted by a guy who would have sex with an almost unconscious girl, but I had learned how to hold it all back, to build the levee against the flood of anger. “So it was consensual, as far as you can tell? He didn’t hurt you in any way?”
“He didn’t hurt me, no. And I guess I was on board with it. Tyler saw us kissing in Nathan’s car.” She was crying harder now. “How could I do that? Why would I do that? It’s horrible, awful!”
I wasn’t sure I even wanted to think about it. Pulling her into my arms, I held her while she cried, trying to process exactly how I felt, swallowing hard. Did it thrill me that Nathan had tapped my girlfriend? Fuck no. Was I glad she’d told me? Yes. I was also just a little bit glad that she didn’t remember it, which made me an asshole. But I couldn’t help the reaction. I obviously didn’t like that she’d blacked out, because that was scary shit, but I didn’t want her to have had good sex with Nathan, even drunk. Which was selfish and stupid, so I shoved that thought aside and focused on her, what she needed, not me, what I needed.
That’s what you do when you love someone.
You put them first, even when your insides were boiling like lava.
Now I knew why she was afraid to be around her friends, why she had stopped drinking, why she no longer wanted to party.
I figured while the catalyst was shit, the end result was a good thing, right?
“It’s okay,” I told her, kissing the top of her head. It wasn’t, not exactly, but I’d get over it. It was more important she knew I had her back, that she could trust me enough to tell me the truth, no matter what. That there were no secrets between us, ever.
“You don’t hate me?” She sobbed into my chest. “You don’t think I’m a drunken whore like Harper and everyone else on the planet?”
The phrase “drunken whore” made my nostrils flare. No one had the right to call her that. No one. “No. I think you made a mistake that you’ve regretted ever since, and you made changes to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I think that makes you mature.”