Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
I push out a breath. “I know. I get how it looked, but you have to believe me. We fell asleep in my bed, yes, but we didn’t do anything before that. I didn’t have sex last night. Don’t you trust me? You know I’m not a liar. You know I’m responsible and I make good choices.”
She nods once, not arguing that. “I absolutely do. I also know that sometimes even the smartest, best, most responsible girls in the world make really bad decisions for a boy they really like. Especially a very persuasive boy who talks them into breaking rules and sneaking out and doing all these things those great, smart, responsible girls know they are not allowed to do.”
My shoulders sag. “I get that those things have not helped my case, but you need to trust me on this. There was a good reason he took his shirt off, I just can’t tell you what it is. He didn’t mean to leave it off, we just... I don’t know, we were laying there talking and we were tired and we fell asleep, but I swear nothing happened.”
She looks over at me, weighing my words, but she doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She eyes me as she takes a slow sip from her mug, then she lowers it and says, “All right, then tell me about this good reason.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised him I wouldn’t,” I say, dread flooding me as I think about that promise. “Just know that it was innocent.”
Mom frowns at me, probably frustrated that I’m not being forthcoming. “Just answer me this. If you were to have sex—”
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes and hide my face just for good measure.
Going on a little more assertively, she says, “If you were to have sex, you would use protection, right? Since you’re not on birth control—unless you’ve done that behind my back somehow, too—then you would use a condom? You would not be reckless enough to have unprotected sex, right?”
I want the floor to open up and swallow the couch so I don’t have to endure this conversation any longer. “Right.”
Mom nods. “Okay.”
I frown at her as she leans forward and puts her mug down on the coffee table, then she stands and heads toward my room. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll be right back and we’ll continue this conversation.”
“Mom,” I say, pushing off the couch and running down the hall after her.
This time I’m the one standing in the doorway and she’s in my room. She walks over to my bed, checking the nightstand and the floor beside it.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Checking for a condom wrapper,” she tells me.
“I told you, we didn’t have sex!”
“Then you won’t mind if I double check to make sure.”
I huff in annoyance. “You won’t find anything. I have no idea if he would even have a condom with him, but I certainly didn’t. That is not what he came over for.”
Mom has stopped patting down my bed. She’s facing the foot of the bed now, staring at the bundle of cloths and towels I forgot about. My stomach sinks and I step inside the room, seeing the bloody one on top—the one she’s staring at.
“What the hell is this, Riley?” she demands, her tone more serious than I’ve heard it before.
I swallow, my voice stuck in my throat.
Mom’s gaze snaps to mine, fire in her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“No!”
Despite my quick objection, her gaze travels up and down my body and she comes over, grabbing my shoulders and looking me up and down. “Did he… did he touch you? I need to understand where this blood came from, Riley. I’m starting to freak out.”
“It’s not from me,” I tell her, pleading with my eyes for her to drop it.
That only causes her frown to deepen with confusion. “I—I don’t understand.”
I look past my mom at the pile of cloth on the foot of my bed. “The blood is his,” I say softly, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I swallow before I go on, trying to figure out how to say it as I go. “He had a cut on his head and a split lip and a black eye. He showed up here last night because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’m the only one who knows…”
My mom tries to cover up her alarm, but she’s not doing a great job. Despite the clear concern etched across her face, she manages to keep her tone even when she asks, “Knows what, Riley?”
Tummy twisting into knots, I don’t know what to do. I’ve come this far and Mom knows something is wrong. I know she won’t let it go until I tell her, but once I tell her… I don’t know what will happen.