Page 130 of A Little Jaded

RAINE

Restraining orders are no joke. Everett was pissed when we first walked in, but we gave our statements and filled out a shit-ton of paperwork. The main thing that stuck with me since then is how I should’ve taken more pictures. Officer McDonnell was…kind, I think. A little robotic, maybe, but a decent listener despite Everett’s constant death glare. I’ll give him that much.

They’re still digging into how Drake sent the videos to everyone at one time. Who knows who else he sent it to outside of LAU. His friends? His teammates? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Or maybe not, since it shows his precious ex-girlfriend being intimate with someone who isn’t him. My nose wrinkles at the reminder of our connection. Physically. Emotionally. Socially.

I can’t believe I dated him. Part of me wants to go home and scrub my skin until it’s raw. The other part? It wants to curl into a ball and sleep for a week, but only if Everett holds me while I do.

It didn’t help when Officer McDonnell had to watch thevideo, either. My stomach twisted, and I played with my fingers in my lap, unable to look up or do…anything at all, really. Not since I saw everyone’s faces while they watched the video last night.

Everett’s phone has been ringing off the hook. Or at least it was until Everett sent a mass text to all our friends, telling them to give us some space, and turned it off so it wasn’t a distraction. Honestly, I’m almost grateful I handed mine over to Officer McDonnell. At least I don’t have to deal with it for a little while.

I can feel Everett watching me from the driver’s side. He’s been staring at me constantly since the video. Part of me wants to tell him I’m okay. Part of me wants to ask why he keeps looking at me like I’m a ticking time bomb. Part of me wants to disappear entirely. Instead, I’ve stayed silent. Besides, what exactly am I supposed to say? Sorry I dragged you into this? Sorry your dick has now been recorded and passed around to everyone you know? I mean, it’s a really nice dick. Thick, long, impressive. He has nothing to be ashamed of on that front, but it still doesn't make it okay or any less violating.

Seriously, what the hell am I thinking? I’m exhausted, and it’s clear I’m not the only one. I can’t tell if Everett’s frustrated with me or just the situation in general, but he’s been mostly quiet since we left the precinct last night. When Everett pulls the car into the Bean Scene’s parking lot, then disappears inside, only to return with two cups of coffee a few minutes later, I almost cry.

He didn’t ask if I wanted to go in with him. I'm grateful but can't help being curious if he’s embarrassed by me now. If he doesn’t want to be seen with me anymore. Not near LAU’s campus. It’s stupid. It takes two people to tango, and we were both in the video, but it doesn’t make me feel any better, and it doesn’t erase the fact that I was the one on myknees. The one who’s now been filmed multiple times against my will. He’ll be labeled a player. Me? I’ll be labeled a slut. A whore.

I can’t convince myself to ask what he’s thinking. To ask if he’s okay or if he’s mad at me or if…if he’s ashamed.

“Hey.” Everett offers me a cup, and I force my body to respond. To move. To do something other than drown in my own pity party.

Taking the cup from him, I bring it to my lips and blow on the small hole until a whimper escapes me.

“Hey,” he repeats. This time it’s less of a greeting and more of an attempt to comfort me. To put me back together again. Reaching across the console, he tugs me into him, and I burrow into his chest, careful not to spill my coffee on him. I’m so…exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. God, I feel fucking broken.

“I can’t even blow on a cup of fucking coffee w-without?—”

“Sh…,” he coos. “Sh…it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

He squeezes me harder. “You’re right. It isn’t. Nothing he did was okay.”

Nothinghedid was okay. He. Not me. Drake. So why the hell am I carrying his burden? It only messes with my head more. I know Drake’s the one with the problem, not me, yet here I am, having a pity party and drowning in shame and misery and disgust.

“I’m so sorry, Ev,” I whisper.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

My eyes well with tears, but I don’t pull away, too afraid if I do, I’ll spiral even further. He’s wrong, though. I do have something to apologize for. Something I’ve been carrying since the moment I saw the video. Honestly? Even before then. When Everett showed up at the cabin after Drake gothis hands on him. What kind of sick fuck does these kinds of things?

My eyes burn even more, and I let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry because…because I wasn't the only one in the video.”

I wait for him to let me go. To push me away. To tell me he wishes he’d never met me because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wouldn’t have some psycho recording him through a window like a fucking stalker.

Notlikea stalker.

An actual stalker.

Since when did my life turn into a freaking horror movie?

“I don’t give a shit about the video,” Everett rasps against the crown of my head. “I give a shit aboutyou. All right? I’m fucking crumbling right now because of what this bastard has put you through. What he’s still managing to put you through, despite our best attempt to make him go away.”

I let out a shaky breath and twist the fabric of his shirt in my hands as I breathe him in. Cedar. Pine. Like the trees surrounding the cabin. And rain. Fresh. Clean. Rain. It makes me want to burrow under his skin and never come out again.

“I love you, Raine,” he murmurs.