Motion (Page 16)

ARG!

Dammit, internal monologue. STFU.

“Well, well, well, Lisa.”

I moved my eyes to Gabby. Something about her tone made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. She sounded . . . pleased. That can’t be good.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Yes. She was pleased. Her gaze moved over me appraisingly and she nodded, as though agreeing with unspoken thoughts.

“What are you talking about?”

Gabby leaned close, her green eyes sparkling. “Abram.”

“What about him?”

“What did you do?” She wagged her eyebrows.

“What are we talking about?”

“Look at you! He’s vibing on you.” Grabbing my wrist, she forced me to give her a high five before I could react. “Get it, girl!”

We were clearly having two different conversations. “I’m so lost. I know you’re speaking, because your mouth is moving and sounds are coming out, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is so good. I can’t wait to tell your sister you got him in his swimsuit.” Her eyes moved down and then up my body. “Or his birthday suit.”

I flinched. “Gabby!”

“What? Did you see how he was looking at you?”

“Gabby.”

“Maybe you will be sitting on his face after all.”

“Gabby!” I covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes. It was no good. Again, the sexy images, the spark, the flame, the fire. “Keep your power of suggestion to yourself.”

She pulled my wrists away from my head. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen Abram work it before when he’s surrounded by his harem, but a boy don’t flirt like that unless he’s thirsty for a girl’s milkshake.”

Harem? Flirt? Milkshake? What?

My eyes flew open and it took several seconds for me to decide which of her statements to contradict first. “He wasn’t flirting with me.”

She gave me a snort of disbelief and an eye roll. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would he flirt with me? It would be completely inappropriate.”

“Oh my god, Mary Sue, try to keep up. He wants your baa-day!”

“He shouldn’t.” I glanced at the back door to the house, dreading his return.

“Why the hell not? Have you seen him? Have you seen yourself in this bikini? I mean, yeah. You need a wax, but you two would be hot.” She shrugged with her entire body. “I would kind of want to watch, to be honest.”

“Oh my God!” A shock of two conflicting emotional states—one completely expected and logical, and one dark and secret and troubling—had me turning away from her and reaching for my bathrobe: repugnance and fascination, revulsion and curiosity, disgust and temptation.

She grabbed the terry cloth before I could and tossed it in the pool. “There. It’s gone. Stop trying to cover up. Now give me one good reason why you two shouldn’t take advantage of this fortress of solitude for the next few days.”

My temper was lost along with the bathrobe and undammed feelings surged forth, coating my voice in viscous emotion. “Because he’s in a position of authority over me. He could tell my parents lies about me—about Lisa not behaving, or seeing Tyler—if he wanted, and it would be my word against his. He could try to blackmail me into physical intimacy, if I don’t do what he wants. So, no. He absolutely shouldn’t be flirting with me!”

By the end of my tirade, Gabby was staring at me with wide-eyed confusion, but it quickly morphed into narrowed-eyed suspicion.

“Mona,” she whispered.

“You mean Lisa.”

“Mona,” she whispered more insistently, her eyes moving between mine. “Did something happen to you? Did someone . . . did they do something?”

“No,” I said, unable to hold her gaze. “I mean, no. Not really.”

“What do you mean, ‘Not really’?”

“I mean, nothing happened.”

She bent and moved her face in front of mine, forcing me to look at her. “But someone tried to make something happen? While you were in college?”

I shrugged, waving my hands around. “No. It wasn’t like that. I overreacted.”

“About what?”

“Does it matter? If nothing actually happened?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me what didn’t happen?” She squinted until her eyes were nearly closed.

“It’s not a big deal.” Again, I glanced at the back door. Shouldn’t he be back by now?

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal telling me what happened, or what didn’t happen.”

“I—” Now I felt silly. It wasn’t a big deal. Every girl or woman I knew had gone through something similar, where she misinterpreted an innocuous situation, let her imagination get the better of her. If it happened to all women, then it wasn’t a big deal, right? “It’s stupid.”

“I love stupid. Stupid is my favorite. Go on. And hurry, before the hottie gets back.”

I vacillated, feeling inexplicably out of breath. I didn’t want to tell her. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happened if you tell me about Lisa being naked with Abram.”

“Deal. Tell me.”

Oh. Okay. Damn. I hadn’t expected her to agree.

“You’re going to be disappointed.”

“Tell me.”

I rolled my eyes at myself. “Fine. There was this postgrad TA. And he used to, you know, get touchy with undergrads. Give back massages or hug us from behind. I didn’t like it, so I avoided him. Really, no big deal.”

“That’s it? How old were you?”

“That’s not it. I was fifteen.”

“Hmm. So what happened?”

“He . . .” Why are you telling Gabby, of all people? Why was I telling anyone? It was no big deal. No big deal.

“Mona.”

“He cornered me—once—when I was alone in the chem lab. Made me feel uncomfortable.” Stop talking.

“What did he do?”

“He—” my eyes lost focus as they drifted over her shoulder “—came up behind me and put his hand over my mouth. I didn’t hear him come in, so I freaked out. I thought . . .” I shook my head at myself. “See? Stupid.”

I didn’t want to talk about this. My heart was galloping at the memory. Just like then, I couldn’t seem to get my pulse under control. So stupid.

“And then?”

“I was kicking and elbowing him, because I didn’t know it was a joke,” I said, my voice growing quieter, more robotic. “But he was bigger than me, it didn’t even faze him. When he let me go, he laughed. He said, ‘You should see your face.’ And then, when I finally calmed down, he acted like he wasn’t going to let me leave again, and I got scared. Again.”

Gabby, frowning, nodded slowly, apparently absorbing every detail. “What did he do next?”

This is Gabby. You don’t trust her. STOP TALKING!

I hadn’t even told Allyn about this, and I didn’t stop. I met her stare and finished the story calmly. “He chased me, grabbed me again and pinned me against the wall. When I started to cry, he laughed again and let me go, said I didn’t know how to take a joke, that I was easy to tease, like his little sister. And then he left, and it was over.”

“Did you report him? Tell anyone?”

Her question cracked the shell of outward calm I’d erected. I looked at her like she was nuts. “Tell them what? That I got scared like a little kid?” I whispered harshly, because I was upset. I hated that this still upset me.

“Nooo.” She drew the word out, but her eyes were tender, patient. “That he assaulted you. That he put his hands on you without your permission and frightened you. And when you told him to stop, he did it again.”

“Come on, Gabby. It was a joke.” Resurrecting cold reason to distance myself from the memory–nothing happened, no big deal, nothing happened—I took several deep breaths and my heart began to slow. The story was done, it was over, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I’d said anything to begin with. Especially to Gabby.

“It was assault. You should have reported him.”

“And then what?” I asked, once again employing my calmest, most rational voice. “I was fifteen, and he was the son of someone important. No one would have believed me. There was only one logical path forward, and that was to forget about it.”

“Are you kidding? You were the perfect victim. Young girl genius, daughter of DJ Tang and Exotica, Mary Sue do-gooder, everyone would have believed you.”

“First, there is no such thing as a ‘perfect victim.’ No one is ever perfect enough when there’s no hard evidence of wrongdoing. Add to that, when the truth or identity of the alleged perpetrator—”

“’Alleged perpetrator?’ Can you hear yourself?”

“—is inconvenient, no one wants to listen, no one wants to know the truth, let alone do anything about it. Second, I might have been terrified, but nothing actually happened. They would have told me it was no big deal, because it was no big deal. I wasn’t hurt, I was just scared.” Inexplicably, despite my determined sensibleness, my eyes stung.