CHAPTER 21: ADMISSION (CONTENT WARNING: SPICE)

RINA'S POV 

TEN YEARS PRIOR 

Easton dragged me up the stairs wordlessly, radiating fury and gripping my forearm so tightly he was cutting off my circulation. He dragged me along like I was weightless, and I just let him do it, all my usual defiance gone. 

Whatever harsh jabs he was about to throw my way after what just happened, I just wanted him to get it over with so I could go home and go to sleep. At least then I could forget that all of this happened for a few hours. 

All the lights were off upstairs, and he didn't bother to turn any on as he shoved me into a dark room and slammed the door behind him. It was hard to tell where I was, because the only sources of light were the little slivers of moonlight seeping through the semi-sheer curtains covering the windows. 

But then, Easton hit the lights, and I suddenly realized I was in a bedroom. His, by the looks of it. I was briefly taken aback by how normal it looked. We were in a mansion, but it looked like any other teenage boy's room—band posters on the walls, an unmade bed, laundry overflowing in a bin in the corner, the works. My examination of the room was cut short, however, when Easton pressed forward towards me, backing me up until my back was against the wall and his face was only inches from mine. 

"Monica and Chet know where I am," I said quietly, my voice cracking despite how hard I tried to keep it steady. 

"I don't care," he snarled, his face level with mine. I'd seen him angry more times than I could count, but this was different. He didn't look just mad. He looked defeated. "What the fuck was that downstairs?" 

"I could ask you the same thing." I said as sternly as I could manage, even though my hands were shaking. 

"I told you I didn't want you with anyone else, so you went out with my best friend?" His voice was so low I wouldn't have even heard him if his mouth wasn't inches from my face. "What was the goal here? Just to watch me lose my mind?" 

"He's not your friend," I choked out, shoving against his chest. He felt like a brick wall underneath my touch, though. No matter how hard I pushed, he didn't budge. 

"Not anymore. Now he's my enemy. You made sure of that!" He roared, backing away from me just to slam his fist into the adjacent wall. It crumpled like sand beneath the weight of his punch and when he pulled back, his knuckles were bloody and his breathing ragged. "I told you I want you to myself, Rina. I've told you half a dozen times! So don't pretend like you didn't know how I'd react to seeing my best friend stick his tongue down your throat in my own fucking house!" 

I did know how he would react, and that was the point all along. "It was just a date, Easton." 

"No, tonight wasn't just a date. It was a calculated move. You knew how upset I was going to get so stop fucking acting like you're innocent!" 

"Even if that were true, it was Ricky's calculated move, not mine," I said, even though it was a lie. Sure, it was Ricky's idea, but I'd wanted to hurt Easton just as much. "He was the one who asked me to come tonight, not the other way around." 

"So, let me get this straight. Ricky asks you out and you go, but when I do it, you dump a bottle of water over my head?" He was screaming again, his voice rattling off the walls. But his eyes were sunken and sullen, his chest heaving. He looked at me like I was poisonous. "Tell me why, Rina." I stared back at him without answering, partially out of my own stubbornness but primarily because I was at a loss for words of what to say. I expected his anger, but I didn't expect this other emotion I could see swimming in his eyes. Sadness? Bitterness? Jealousy? I didn't know what it was, and I didn't have time to think about it before he screamed, "Fucking tell me!" 

"He was nice to me," I snapped. "You never have been." 

"He was nice to you? Bullshit!" He roared. "You did this on purpose, so just admit it! You've been playing games all year long, doing everything in your power to make me crazy. And you got what you wanted, Rina. I'm completely out of my mind so the least you could do is be honest! Why did you do it? Just because you could? Just to be mean?" 

"Are you joking?" I huffed out a laugh. "You're complaining that I'm being mean after what you said to me the last time we talked? Tell me, do you have to try to be this unself-aware or does it just come naturally?" 

"So, you did it just to get even then? I called you a tease, so you fucked my best friend?" He snarled, hands balling into fists at his sides. 

"You didn't just call me a tease, you narcissistic ass. You told me I was just like my mother because I wouldn't let you screw me in my driveway!" I snarled, all the hurt I'd been bottling up for weeks spilling out of me like water from a crack in a dam. I never liked to let him see that he'd gotten to me, but I didn't care anymore. I already felt like I was at my lowest. There was nothing left for me to lose. "So what if I slept with your best friend? You told me I'm even that hot anyways, so what's it matter to you?!" 

He looked taken aback suddenly, his expression harrowed. "So, it's true, then? You let him take your virginity?" 

"It's none of your business whether or not I did," I growled, unphased by his morose expression. If anything, it was egging me on. I'd seen every extreme of Easton's emotions and none of them phased me anymore. 

"Yes, it is, Rina," he argued. "I told you I didn't want to see you with anyone else. You should know by know why that is!" 

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware. Ricky told me. You want me to be another notch in your bedpost—another flower to add to your collection—and I told you no. So, you can stop pretending that if I'd let you screw me in that closet in October, we would even be here having this conversation. We both know you'd be avoiding me like the plague, just like you're doing to Victoria, you spoiled, egotistical prick!" 

I finished my rant, gasping, expecting him to start yelling back, but instead he just laughed, the sound low and poisonous, pouring out of him from deep in his chest. It was so off-putting that for a second, I started to question if he was right about being absolutely out of his mind. "Is that what you think? You think how I feel about you is at all equivalent to Victoria?" 

"How could I not?" I snarled. "You compared the two of us directly. What was it again?" I dropped my voice low to imitate his. "At least Victoria puts out." 

"I only said that because I was jealous," he said lowly, still angry but no longer yelling. "You're supposed to be mine, but you went out with someone else. You wouldn't even fucking kiss me!" 

"No, you didn't" I growled. "You said it because you're entitled. I didn't give you what you wanted, so you used my past against me just to keep your fragile fucking ego intact." 

"And what about what you did?" He snarled. "You slept with my best friend, knowing how jealous I get when I see you with someone else!" 

"I never said I slept with him," I snarled. "But even if I had, I didn't use your deepest trauma as a weapon against you to do it. I don't know why you think the two are remotely comparable." 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his expression twisted and forlorn, locked on mine in an unwavering grimace. "So then how far did this go then?" He asked, his voice a low, throaty growl. 

"You already know. You had a front row seat to the action, did you not?" 

"So that was it, then. You kissed him just to get under my skin? Because you knew it would make me crazy, and you just didn't care?" 

"Everything I do makes you crazy," I snarled. "It wouldn't matter if I kissed Ricky tonight or somebody else. I can't breathe without you jumping down my throat just to save face." 

"God, you are so clueless," he laughed, the sound coming from low in his throat. "I never did anything because I'm trying to save face. Everything that's happened between us is because I want you to myself and you won't let me have you. I don't know how to make it any more obvious, Rina." 

"You are so full of shit," I growled. "You don't want me. You just want to fuck me. You said so yourself last week, remember? Insinuating that I was a waste of time because I wouldn't have sex with you?" 

"I only said that because I was upset you wouldn't kiss me," he growled. "You made it seem like I could finally have you and then you ripped the rug out from underneath me, just like you always do. You left me scrambling." When I said nothing in return, he stepped back, finally dropping his grip on my wrist and ripping his hands through his hair. "I kept my eyes closed the whole time with Victoria. You know why?" 

I said nothing. I could feel tears welling in my eyes again, and I wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was recalling what he said last week, or maybe I was just so frustrated with the situation it was all I could do. But I knew if I said anything in that moment, they would spill over, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry again. 

"Because that way," he continued. "I could imagine she was you. I could imagine it was your hair I was pulling, your mouth against my neck, your body I was touching. Do you understand why?" I shook my head but said nothing. After a few moments of silence, he continued, "Because I didn't want her. I wanted you." 

"You're a liar," I snarled. 

"You're right, I am. But not this time," he said, walking towards me, his eyes slitted, looking like he was in pain. "If I just tell you the truth, will you listen to me?" 

"Do I have another choice?" I snapped. "You're usually the one who decides when I get to walk away." 

"If you want to go, then go," he said, backing up and crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly. The tension in his shoulders gave him away, though. He didn't want me to leave. 

"I'll stay," I started, "if you promise to tell me the whole truth. Not just the parts that make you look good." 

"That's fine. Not much of it makes me look good anyways," he murmured. "Just don't label me the bad guy until you hear me out, okay?" 

I raised my eyebrows at him suspiciously, but nodded, taking a seat on the edge of his desk. He looked at me nervously, his hands still fisted at his side and his shoulders hunched. 

"You're right. If you had sex with me in October like I wanted you to, we probably wouldn't have talked again," he said slowly. My chest got tight at the admission, but I said nothing. "At the beginning, I thought if I had you once, got you out of my system, I could get over whatever weird hold you had on me. And maybe I would have. But that's not what happened. Because you slapped me." 

"You deserved it," I snapped back. 

"You're right. I did. But then we got back to school, and Kyle told everyone that he'd nailed you in the back of his jeep, I saw red. I was already jealous that you were at that party with him, but when I heard what he was saying, it set me off. I confronted him because I just wanted to hear the truth. But then when he said it, I couldn't help myself. I didn't care if it was a lie. Just the idea of it made me want to kill him." 

He stepped forward, so close he was nearly in between my legs, his eyes desperately searching mine. When I didn't say anything, he continued. "I spent the entire time I was suspended scheming up ways to get you to talk to me. I knew you hated me, but I couldn't ignore you anymore. Something about you—the way you spoke, the way you never backed down no matter what I did, even when I could see that I was scaring you, I don't know. It intrigued me. I wanted to know more about you, but you wouldn't even fucking look at me until I didn't give you another choice," he snarled, his hands balling into fists. "The only time you let your walls down was when I provoked you. You'd get angry, fling insults at me, but then you'd reveal tiny pieces of your story while you did it. It was like playing chess, trying to figure you out. And then, that day in the library happened. I printed off that picture, thinking you'd get angry. But you didn't. You just looked sad. It was when I realized that you were the first person I'd ever met who was just as lonely as me." 

I huffed out a laugh. "You threw a party, and seventy-five of your closest friends attended. Don't act like you're lonely, Easton." 

"Those people aren't my friends. They're just here for the free booze," he murmured under his breath before looking taken aback, like he couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. But then his expression darkened again, and his eyes returned to my face. "I can count on one hand the number of real friends I've got. And after tonight, I'll have to use one less finger." 

"So sorry to hear about your relationship woes," I snapped, impatient. "You told me you were going to tell me the truth, and so far, you're just continuing to throw accusations at me. Is there a point to what you're saying?" 

He looked at me and smiled—really smiled, not the usual menacing grins he'd fling my way. "Yes, there's a point. I don't have many people that understand how it feels to be alone. I've been on my own for the longest time, and nobody else knows how it feels because they all have parents that give a shit about them. But you know what it's like. And you're strong despite it. Way stronger than I am. The strongest person I've ever met. It's the reason I fell in love with you." 

The words hung between us like smoke from a shotgun blast and it felt like world stopped turning on its axis when they were out of his mouth. Everything Ricky had said to me, all the horrible things Easton had done, came flooding to the forefront of my mind at the word love. I was torn, because a part of me desperately wanted it to be true—I was alone in this world, there's was nobody left in it that loved me at all, and love was what I wanted above all else—but I also couldn't let myself believe it. 

Because what if I did, and he was lying? It was going to rip me into pieces if I got what I wanted only for it be taken away. I'd rather just have never had it at all. 

"What?" I demanded, my voice steely and cold. 

"You heard what I said, Rina. That's the truth, even if neither of us like it. Don't make me say it again." 

"You're a fucking liar," I spat, pushing up off the desk. But he blocked me. 

"I'm not lying, Rina," he insisted, grabbing me by the hip as I tried to brush past him. "For fuck's sake, just listen to me!" He demanded, pulling me to his chest and cupping my jaw in his hand. His hand was trembling as he did it, and when I finally looked at his face, he looked like he was about to be sick. "I'm going to talk and you're not going to say anything until I'm done, alright? And then, if you still want to leave, I'll let you go. I'll leave you alone for good if that's what you want but you have to stay put until I'm finished, okay?" 

I just looked at him stubbornly, mostly because I was worried that if I said anything at all, it would reveal too much, and I wouldn't be able to take it back. 

"I don't know how it happened, and I don't know why, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head since September. You're the only thing I want, and Ricky was right when he said you were the one thing my dad can't buy me. Trust me, if he could, you would've been mine in October," he said, his voice falling into a snarl as he did, like he was picturing everything that had happened since—Homecoming, the party before spring break, what happened tonight. "And I know you don't believe me, but I am in love with you. I have been for months. That's why I can't leave you alone, and why I lose my mind any time I see you with somebody else. I want you Rina, in every way imaginable. And I swear, it's not just for the night. I want you every night for the rest of my life," he said, breathless, staring at me like he was trying to see inside my soul again, like he'd done when he asked me to Homecoming. But this time he didn't look smug. He looked like he was terrified. I just looked back at him, mouth agape, eyes bigger than saucers. Because what he'd just said was everything I wanted to hear but I still couldn't let myself believe it was real. 

"Say something, Rina!" He commanded, his voice strained, his hands digging into my hips. 

"Give me a reason I should believe you. After everything you've done, every awful thing you've said to me, how the hell am I supposed to trust that you're telling me the truth this time?" 

"I don't have a reason. There's nothing I can do to make you trust me. You just have to." 

And he was right. There was no safety valve, nothing to catch me when I fell. Because it was no longer a hypothetical question of if, but rather a matter of how hard. I could feel myself slipping, slipping, slipping further down the rabbit hole, what with his eyes boring into mine and his hands hot as sin on my waist. I wanted it—wanted him—so bad, and the tiny voice in my head screaming at me that I was being stupid kept getting quieter with every word out of his mouth. 

And just like that, I decided. I was going to let myself fall, even if it meant falling apart. 

"Okay," I said quietly, suddenly so overcome with shyness that I could hardly look at him. 

"Okay what?" He asked, his lips suddenly just an inch from mine. 

"I believe you. I trust you. If you do something to break it, you're never going to get it back," I warned, breathless with his mouth so close. 

He sucked in a breath but didn't say anything at first. Instead, his hands twisted into my hair, and he inched his mouth closer. "Deal," he whispered the words into my mouth before smashing his lips against mine. 

We fell together like magnets, and the rest of the world melted away. Suddenly all I could see, feel, and hear was him and his hands slipping down my back, his tongue sliding past my lips, the shirt slipping over his head, and his groan as my hands swept over his tight abdominal muscles. I couldn't think, could hardly breathe, and this time I just let it happen. I ignored the voice in my head that stopped me every other time before, because this time I wanted him more than I wanted safety. 

His hands moved from my back towards my hips, pulling me in the direction of his bed and hitting the lights while he did it. The room plunged into darkness and then my legs hit his mattress, his body coming down on mine. 

"Rina," he moaned against my skin as he planted sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in a trail down my throat until he reached the dip of my v-neck sweater. Before I knew what was happening, he'd ripped it over my head and ripped my jeans down my legs. I was laying beneath him in just my bra and underwear, more naked than I'd ever been in front of anyone. I should have felt self-conscious, but he looked at me like he'd never seen anything he liked more, and it made me lose what was left of my sanity. 

Our mouths met again, his jeans hitting the floor and his hands everywhere—down my back, squeezing the sides of my thighs, cupping my breasts. It felt like I was on fire in the best way possible. 

"Wait," he said, panting, one hand skimming the edge of my underwear. I looked at him in question, my hands in his hair, and he murmured, "Tell me this means what I think it means." 

"What do you think it means?" 

"I think it means that you're finally mine. Tell me I'm not wrong." 

"You're not wrong," I whispered back. "If that's what you want." 

His didn't answer in words. Instead, he just ripped my underwear down the middle. 

"Just say no if you want me to stop," he said, the words rough as he choked them out. I nodded my head in agreement before our lips found each other again. His fingers trailed down my stomach, stopping just below my belly button before his thumb slipped lower, brushing in between my outer edges. It felt like an electric shock shot through my whole body. "So wet," he groaned, his hand sinking lower, his index finger hovering outside of my entrance. My stomach clenched when he sank it inside, and a groan slipped through my lips. 

"God, Rina," he choked out, his thumb brushing over my center. "You're going to be the end of me." 

My hand slipped down his abdomen again, feeling the tight, clenched muscles before I reached the edge of his boxer briefs. It struck me as serendipitous that he was wearing boxer briefs now, mostly naked, just like this the first time I saw him. I thought he was attractive then. But right now, he looked like the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, even in the dim light of the moon. 

There was such a thin line between love and hate, and I couldn't tell which one threaded us together anymore. I wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, but my body decided I didn't and my brain followed suit. 

Was I in love with him? I didn't know. All I knew was that his body on top of mine made thinking impossible, and the consequences of what was about to happen seem very far away. I wanted this, even it destroyed me. 

I brushed my hand over his length, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. There was a wet spot on his boxers, just barely noticeable, and he pulled his finger out of me just long enough to rip his boxers down his legs. 

"I don't think I can wait anymore," he groaned, taking himself in his hand. "Do you want to keep going? Because if I go any further, I'm not going to be able to stop." 

I nodded softly, suddenly surer of what was about to happen than I'd ever been of anything in my entire life. He shuttered when I did, dipping his head to kiss me on the lips once, twice, and a third time before he pulled my legs up against his shoulders. I felt the tip of his erection press against my entrance, and I looked up, surprised to see him staring open-mouthed directly at my face. "This is going to hurt since it's your first time," he murmured, his eyes slitted and glassy. 

"I know," I whispered back. "It's okay." 

It was all the permission he needed. He pressed forward, and he was right—it hurt. It felt like he was ripping me apart from the inside for just a moment. I winced, feeling something wet leaking down my ass, and I realized it was probably my own blood. 

"I'm sorry," he grunted, pressing his mouth against my calf, his expression twisted like he was in pain. "I'll wait." 

It took a few seconds of feeling uncomfortably full before the pain subsided. He felt me relax and he looked at me in question before sliding out halfway and pushing back in, slowly. It burned a little still, but it was becoming less painful and more pleasurable by the second. 

My mouth opened in surprise as he did it again, this time harder, and then he started moving faster, a bead of sweat dripping down his perfect face. He moved my legs aside, lowering himself between on top of me again, his mouth open and his eyes slitted. 

"I love you," he whispered roughly into my hair. "Please believe me, Rina. I'm so fucking in love with you," he said, and then he groaned, pulling out suddenly as something hot and wet splashed onto my abdomen. He met my mouth again with his, tremoring, his hands twisted in my hair. 

I think I love you too, I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. Because I knew it was the last card he hadn't seen, and once it came out, I couldn't take it back.