Willow seizes the opportunity to pull me back into a private conversation. “You never explained to me what happened,” she whispers, nodding at my black and blue wrist.
“It’s really not a big deal.” My fingers stiffen as I cover my wrist.
What do I tell her? The truth? It seems so easy, just a few words I have to utter, but confessing something about my family that would make them look like bad people scares the shit out of me. What if my dad finds out? What if he kicked me out like he’s been threatening to do? What if? What if? What if?
What if I stop being so scared all the time and took control for once without stealing? What if I just went to parties that I wanted to go to without sneaking down trees? What if I kissed guys I wanted to without planning on marrying them? What if? What if? What if I was me all the time and did what I wanted to do without worrying about what my parents or anyone else?
“My dad and I had this argument and he . . . He kind of grabbed me.” My pulse soars as soon as the words leave my lips.
“Your dad did that to you?” She sounds absolutely horrified.
“I-It was an accident,” I stammer. “He didn’t mean to, and I did make him really mad before he did it.”
“I don’t give a shit if he meant to or not,” she hisses with her hands on her hips. “Luna, it’s never okay for someone to hurt you like that whether they’re mad at you or not.”
“I know.” Uttering the truth aloud is like reality slapping me across the face.
I knew since the moment the bruises formed on my skin that what my dad did to me wasn’t okay. That he grabbed me too hard. That, no matter what I did, he never should have put his hands on me like that.
“You need to tell someone.” She hooks arms with me. “Promise me you will, that you won’t just let this go like you do with all that other crap your parents do to you.”
I nod, making a promise I’m unsure I’m ready to make.
Could I really do it? Could I really tell someone what goes on inside my house? If I did, then I know I’d be making a choice. I’d be choosing to move out because there’s no way my parents would ever let me back in the house if I betrayed them like that. And even if they didn’t kick me out, I don’t think I’d be able to go back into that house, because . . .
The truth is, I’m terrified of my parents.
By the time we arrive at Beck’s two-story, brick home at the end of a cul-de-sac, the party is in full force. Music can be heard from all the way outside, cars line the driveway and the street, and a large group of people crowd the side balcony.
Wynter squares her shoulders as we stand at the edge of the lawn. “All right, let’s do this.” She loops arms with Ari and me then leads us toward the front door. Willow’s arm is still linked with mine as she jogs across the grass to keep up with us.
“Man, why does Beck always have to invite so many people?” she gripes as we reach the front door. “He probably doesn’t even know half the people here, and the people he does know, he hates.”
“Yeah, but all the noise is a great distraction.” Wynter releases her grip on Ari and me and pushes open the door.
“From what—” I start to say, but the music drowns me out.
Inside, people are crammed like sardines in his spacious living room, dancing and grinding all over each other. A huge line has formed in front of the downstairs bathroom, and couples are wandering upstairs toward the bedrooms.
I scan the faces, searching for Grey, but with how many people are here, it’s impossible to tell if he’s here or not.
“Jesus, Beck went overboard this time!” Willow shouts over the music, shaking her head in disgust as she watches some guy jumping up and down solo in the foyer. “I don’t even recognize half of these people!”
“Me, neither! But the game they won today was supposed to be for the championship or something.” I explain. “Maybe that’s why he did it.”
“Or maybe he’s just having a really shitty day,” Wynter yells as she heads toward the dance floor with her eyes targeted on a tall, older guy with similar features to Grey. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit! I’m going to go get a drink!” Before I can stop her from what she’s about to do, she dives into the mob.
“She’s trying to hook up with Theo, isn’t she?” Willow asks me, frowning.
I shrug. “She might be.”
Willow purses her lips. “Beck’s going to get super pissed if he finds out.”
“I’m going to get super pissed about what?” Beck asks, appearing out of nowhere. He’s dressed up in a pair of nice jeans and a plaid, button down shirt, but the backward baseball cap he’s sporting gives him a chill vibe. Hmmm . . . Maybe that’s what Wynter meant by fancy casual. He also has a drink in his hand and looks a little buzzed.
“That we’re not going to dance,” Willow responds with an indifferent shrug.
“Pft, yeah, right. Everyone dances at my parties.” His gaze drags up and down Willow. “Since when do you wear dresses?”
Willow self-consciously messes around with the jacket around her waist. “Since Wynter forced me to. Don’t get used to it, though. This is a onetime thing.”
“You look,” he muses over something, “hot.” Then he smacks Willow on the ass, a move Beck does a lot, but only on girls he’s flirting with. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Willow.”
Willow goes from all bug-eyed to utterly livid. Instead of chewing him out, she reaches around and slaps him on the ass. The four of us trade a look then erupt in laughter.
“Sorry about that,” Beck apologizes to Willow then glances down at the cup in his hand. “I think I might’ve had more to drink than I thought.”
“I’ll let you off the hook just as long as you promise never to smack my ass again,” Willow warns.
With a second of dithering, Beck looks up from the cup and grins. “Okay, I promise, but if you ask me to smack your ass, then all bets are off.”
“I’ll never ask you to smack my ass,” Willow promises, seeming a little squirmy.
“We’ll see.” Beck raises the brim of the cup to his lips, throws his head back, and chugs the drink down before his bloodshot eyes land on me. “I need to talk to you.”
“Okay?” I’m so confused. “About what?”
A grin breaks out on his face as he crunches up his cup and tosses it aside. “About how much you kick ass.” He wraps me in a big bear hug and whispers in my ear, “Grey made the winning shot tonight.”
“That’s awesome.” I circle my arms around him. “But I’m not sure what that has to do with me kicking ass.”
“Because he wouldn’t have even been in the game if it wasn’t for you.”
“Willow helped, too,” I remind him. “Way more than me, actually.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it was just the getting a good grade that made him play better than he ever has,” he says. “I was a little worried he might be out of it, considering all that shit going down with Piper, but he seemed really focused and relaxed, even when we were losing. I think that might have to do to with you. You have that effect on people.”
I’m not sure what to say or how I feel about Beck’s theory. “Is he here?”
“I haven’t seen him”—he pulls back, keeping his hands on my upper arms—“but I made the whole team promise they’d show up, so I’m sure he’ll be here.” He gives me a pat on the arm before spinning around. “Let’s go get you lovely people some drinks then hit the dance floor for a while so I can get Willow to relax.”
Willow gives an exaggerated sigh, but I catch a sparkle of amusement in her eye as she follows Beck.
When we get to the kitchen, Beck mixes everyone a drink. None of us are that big of drinkers, so we take a few sips while Beck downs half of his. After he sets his cup down on the counter, he grabs my arm, and tells Willow and Ari, “We’ll be right back.” Then he drags me across the kitchen and pushes his way to the corner of the living room.
“Work your magic,” he says as he gestures to the stereo hooked up to his laptop. “You should be able to get into your account from my computer, right?”