“Matt? Matt’s…girlfriend?” I call lamely into the dark parking lot beside the diner. I have no idea what I’ll say if I actually catch up to either one of them, but I know I can’t stay in the Alp watching everyone else not give a crap. Especially when the whole thing is my fault. Amber deserves what she’s getting, or at least that’s the party line I’ve chosen. But seeing her stepbrother—a guy I barely know, a guy I have nothing personal against, who I’ve thrown into this mess without a thought—is tough. And his girlfriend? I try to shake off the image of her splotchy red face streaked with tears, but I can’t. I’m no better than Amber with Jenny and Pete. Maybe I’m worse.
The diner door swings open, and a tall figure marches out. Though there’s no sign of Matt or his girlfriend, I walk deeper into the parking lot.
Wes catches up to me in less than thirty seconds. He grabs my wrist and spins me to face him. “What was that?” he demands.
I try to pull my arm free, but his hold tightens.
“Let go of my wrist.” I spit, yanking my arm to no avail. “You’re hurting me!”
Backlit by the Alp’s neon sign, the raised, tense shoulders of Wes’s silhouette, coupled with the aching in my wrist, tells me he’s pretty pissed. Maybe more than pissed. I’m trying to recall the turn and twist move that we learned on self-defense day in health class when his grip loosens enough so I can pull my wrist free. I shelter it against my chest and rub at the pain.
“Sarah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” His voice is shaky, unsure. I don’t care.
“What the hell, Wes?” I snap.
He abandons his apology and crosses his arms, his imposing figure still towering over me. “What the hell yourself?”
I gape at him. “Me? Me?” I’m so enraged that I can’t form a sentence.
“Yes, you,” he says. “What was that in there? You left. You left me.”
I blink, and for a moment, I see a ten-year-old boy who’s only ever been passed around or discarded by the people in his life. Is this why Wes is mad? Does he think I’m one of them? “I didn’t leave you,” I say a bit more soberly. “I came to find Matt and his girlfriend.”
“What for?”
“To see if they’re okay.”
We stare at each other in silence. Then Wes laughs. His shoulders relax, and he uncrosses his arms. Just like that, I’m forgiven, and angry Wes is gone. “Oh,” he says. “Well, that’s nice of you, but what were you going to do after they said, Nope, we’re a mess?” He adopts a high-pitched voice that I realize is meant to be me and says, “Sorry for the confusion, but Matt was actually possessed by my boyfriend when he kissed Amber, who was possessed by me, so don’t sweat it. You two are ace.”
“Forget it,” I say and walk off. I make it two car lengths before he catches up.
“Oh, come on. Lighten up,” he says, matching my stride. I turn to ditch him between two parked cars, but he stays right on me. “No one got hurt.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “No one got hurt? Did you not see that poor girl in there? Or that Amber is turning into a queen bitch? What about Gigi being admitted to a hospital because of what we did to her? Things are happening that we never intended.”
“Technically, you were the one who chopped off Gigi’s hair,” he says as he traces the lapel of my jacket. I smack his hand away. “Joke, joke,” he says, mock-frightened. Then he opens his arms to me. “Come here.”
I step back until I’m definitely out of his reach, straitjacket my arms across my chest, and turn my face away from him. He exhales loudly.
“Sarah,” he says. His voice is sweet and soft. “Sarah, I’m sorry. Come here. Please?”
I don’t move.
“I’m sorry I said that. It was stupid.”
“Yes, it was,” I grumble between clenched teeth.
He takes a step toward me. “And I’m sorry I was mad before. I just don’t like seeing you upset. You are not to blame for Gigi’s inability to handle the consequences of her bad behavior.” Another step. “She needed to be taught a lesson.” And another. “And she was. But it is not your fault that she didn’t like being told no.”
I don’t move away when his hands find my arms, and I don’t flee as he pulls me closer. I feel terrible about Matt and his girlfriend, but are they acceptable collateral damage? Gigi needed to be knocked down a peg or two; of that I’m pretty sure. But did we go too far? Could we make our little world a better place with something subtler than body snatching? Or is this really what it takes to get results? Everything from scripture to Spider-Man tells me that I’m responsible for my actions, but Wes’s words, his touch, the way he speaks, makes me question the very definition of the word responsibility. And it’s so much easier to believe what he’s saying.
I bang my head against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me. “I’m freaked,” I say into his jacket. “And you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” he says.
“It didn’t feel like it last night. I thought the webcam was off, and you…”
“I know, I know.” He pets the top of my head. “And I’m sorry. I won’t do anything like that again. I shouldn’t have tricked you.”
“No,” I say. “You shouldn’t have.” I relax a little in his embrace. It’s good to feel protected, if not exactly safe.
“But to be honest,” he continues, “I sort of couldn’t stop myself. I was wired last night. Really buzzing. Every impulse felt like the right thing to do. So I did it without considering anything at all.”
I look up at him. “I know exactly what you mean.” I think of the throbbing desire I had to escape Amber’s itching body and shudder at the memory of the paperweight. Relief spreads over me. It wasn’t Wes who betrayed me but a drug-fueled version of him that isn’t who he really is. Just like I haven’t really been myself either.
“It’s the Dexid.” I say. “We took too much, and it’s making us do bad things. And not just last night. But every night. It’s gone too far.”
“Shhhh,” he says. “No matter how far you go, don’t you know that I’ll go further just to be with you? I’ll stay with you, always. I’ll never abandon you. Ever. We’re linked in a cosmic way that we’re only beginning to understand. And whatever needs to be done, we’ll do together. We’ll make it right.”
“But how?” I ask. “We can’t take it back. I thought we’d be finished after Amber, but that didn’t exactly work out how we wanted. She’s more of a monster now than ever.”
“Yeah, we’ll need to do something about that,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe humiliation isn’t the way to go.” He kisses the top of my head. Then, as blasé as if he’s throwing out dinner suggestions, he says, “Disfigurement?”
I laugh, but when his matter-of-fact expression remains unchanged, I choke on my own amusement. My eyes widen as if by seeing more of him, I might be able to comprehend what he’s just said. I can’t. I shove his chest hard, pushing myself backward and out of his embrace. I turn and stalk off.
The front of the parking lot is well lit, but that does nothing to stop Wes once he catches up to me. He grabs my shoulders and spins me to face him. I swing my free arm and manage to make contact with his right bicep, but he absorbs the hit with only a tiny grunt. Then, in a frighteningly focused move that comes way too easily, he pushes my arms down into an X and pins them to my own chest. I kick, but he spins me again so my back is against him, and he spreads his legs, making it harder for me to make contact. My heart thrums in my chest.
“I am not letting you go until you calm down,” he hisses in my ear.
“And I am not calming down until you stop being a total psycho!” I yell. “Jesus, you have to get off the Dexid. It’s making you a complete dick!”
“How?” he asks. “By allowing me to do what I want, when I want to? It’s about time I got some control. I think a little id is good for the soul. Just because you can’t handle it doesn’t mean I have to go to rehab.”
I kick back again, and this time, I catch part of his shin. He grunts, but my achievement is purely symbolic. His embrace tightens, and I lose my breath.
My pulse quickens. Sweat breaks out across my flesh. I close my eyes and involuntarily imagine a Burner. I’m suddenly there—wrapped in the monster’s arms, being held so tightly that I believe my eyes will pop out, that my teeth will fall out, that my eardrums will burst. I feel the terror at knowing once this is over, I’ll still be trapped, imprisoned in my own body until some arbitrary clock deems me once again worthy to be the boss of my physical self. I recall all this so vividly that the panic I feel is as real as in my nightmares.
But it’s not a nightmare. I’m not asleep. And this is not a Burner holding me but a boy. The boy who says he’s my everything yet is trying to squeeze me into nothing. I’m not afraid. I’m furious. It feels good.
I still my body, slow my breathing. I stop fighting him, and as promised, the less I struggle, the looser Wes’s grip becomes until finally, he lets go of me.
I can turn around now and smack him or spit in his face and run off. There’s an infinite number of ways the moment can go that will keep things between us. No one else needs to get involved. But I’ll never know. Because I don’t get the chance to make the next move.
Jamie makes it for me.
“Sarah?” my ex says as he emerges from his car. “Are you all right?”
I jump at the growl in Jamie’s voice. This is not good. This fight is between Wes and me alone, and I must defuse this potentially nuclear situation now. All I can think to do is play it cool. So I walk straight over to Jamie and give him a hug.
“Hey. Yeah, I’m great,” I say cheerfully. “How are you? Headed to the Alp?”
Jamie says nothing, just stares at Wes.
“Where are my manners?” I say. “I bet you two haven’t met.”
“Nope,” Wes replies. He’s glaring too.
“Sarah, I think you should come inside,” Jamie says. He holds out his hand to me but keeps his eyes locked on Wes.
Crap.
“Thanks, but we ate with Tessa already. In fact, I kind of need to get going. My mom wants me in early tonight.”
“Good,” says Jamie. “I’ll drive you.”
At this, Wes laughs. “Thanks, pal, but Sarah’s got a ride.”
No one moves. My good guy ex and unhinged boyfriend stare each other down. The last thing I need is two testosterone-happy guys going at it right now. But I have no idea how to stop this showdown. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to just talk until I come up with a plan. But before a single sound escapes, Jamie takes my hand and pulls me toward the stairs of the Alp.
Wes grabs my other arm and yanks me away from Jamie, shoving me behind him. Without the slightest pause, Jamie pivots and swings. The crack of knuckle hitting bone pops in the cool night air. Wes staggers sideways, landing on the hood of a car.
He licks blood at the corner of his mouth and smiles. It’s not unlike the crooked smirk that I once found so enticingly playful. But now there’s menace in its curve. Jamie’s violence is exactly what Wes has been waiting for. The license to lose his shit. He doesn’t want to unleash it on me. He wants me. But in Jamie, all he sees, all he’s ever wanted to see, is the unnatural system he’s never fit into and is determined to take down. It doesn’t matter who Jamie really is—a jock who deserves a beating or a doctor who sees Wes as nothing more than a lab rat. Wes is giddy with self-deputized license.
I throw myself between them.
“Jamie, it’s time to go,” I say.
“Yes, it is,” he agrees and turns toward the Alp.
It takes him a couple of steps before he realizes that I’m not coming with him. He turns back to look at me, and his expression makes my stomach ache. I’ve known Jamie since we were twelve years old. He was my first love and a true friend. I’ve known him happy and sad, but I’ve never seen him look this defeated.
I meet his eyes, but only for a second. Shifting my focus to the shoulder of his letterman jacket, I will myself not to cry. He shoves his hands in his pockets, turns, and walks up the stairs into the Alp. He doesn’t look back.
I feel Wes’s arms slide around my waist in machismo triumph, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. He squeezes me softly as he breathes in my hair. He needs me, needs us.
But I do not.
“We’re done,” I say.
He stops breathing.
“We’re done when we’re done,” he replies. “And there’s still so much for us to do.” He slides his hand under my shirt and runs his finger up my side, but I ignore it.
“I’m not taking the Dexid tonight,” I say.
“Yes, you are. You need it,” he whispers. His fingers trace the underwire of my bra.
“I’d rather be held down by straps than under your thumb,” I reply.
“You seem to like my thumb right now.” His fingers switch direction, traveling down my body. I want to shiver, but I don’t move a muscle.
“You’re a grenade,” I say.
“And you’re the pin. You wouldn’t leave me to my own devices, would you? Who knows what I might do without you.” He turns me around to face him. “Make no mistake. I won’t let anyone come between us. Not even you.”
My breath catches in my throat. I finally, truly understand that he’s meant every word he’s ever said to me.
And I’m so not cool with that.
Suddenly, everything comes back to me from Mrs. Burke’s self-defense lesson. I place my palms on Wes’s shoulders. Shift my weight to my back leg. Thrust my front knee up into his groin.
Hard.
In the moment of pained confusion that overwhelms him, I pull myself free and run.