The Scammer(30)

Maybe it’s Loren. Or Kammy. Maybe they need help. But one look at Nick, and I realize I would have a lot of explaining to do.

I wiggle back into my makeshift bed, playing dead.

The doorknob pings back and forth, echoing in the silence. I want to cover my ears, tune out the frantic sound. Back and forth, back and forth. Just when I think they may break it open, it stops.

The person walks away, slowly.





Nine




“Bambi?”

Sun streams through the open blinds of my window. I still have no curtains to hang. Nothing to make my room homey like in all those dorm shows Mom and I watched on HGTV. An ache blooms at the thought of her. Grief looks different on everyone . . . but losing my mom while she’s still alive hits different.

Nick hovers over me, his bright blue eyes panicked, hair askew.

“It’s Jordyn,” I groan and turn over.

“What . . . where am I?” he asks in a groggy voice.

I sit up, my neck stiff and throbbing. “You’re in my room.”

He looks down at his clothes, rubbing his face.

“What happened?” His eyes widen. “Oh shit. Are you okay? Did we . . . did we . . . um . . .”

“No, nothing like that happened,” I insist, noting he seems more worried about me than about himself. “You were drunk and incoherent. I didn’t know where you lived so I brought you back here. There were tons of people from FUSA around. I didn’t want them to see you like that.”

I stand up to stretch and check the door. Still locked.

Maybe it was a dream.

Nick stares at the floor with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”

I throw up my hands. “Well. That’s what happens when you drink too much.”

“No. I wasn’t drinking.”

I suck my teeth. “I saw you dancing and had a big red cup in your hand.”

“It was soda,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.

He grabs his phone. “Shit, sixty new messages. Everyone’s probably looking for me.”

He tosses the sheet aside and tries to stand but falls back down.

“Whoa,” he mumbles.

I grip his arms to steady him. “Are you still drunk?”

“I am telling you,” he says, voice hard. “I wasn’t drunk. This is . . . I gotta go.”

He rummages around, managing to slip on his sneakers. What I know of him, this doesn’t seem like him. He’s always so put together, humble, and chill. This Nick is a disheveled, sweaty mess.

“Well, at least have some water,” I insist.

He doesn’t respond. He quickly unlocks my door and throws it open before I remember what’s out there.

“Wait!” I shout, trying to stop him but it’s too late.

Kammy and Vanessa are on the sofa, having tea. Their mouths drop at the sight of Nick.

“Uh, hey,” he grumbles then bolts out the suite door. I step into the hall, staring at the spot he just left. But when I turn, Devonte is in the kitchen . . . shirtless. For a moment, we stand there staring at each other, his expression unreadable.

He crosses his arms. “You slept with him.”

His voice calm yet lethal. It renders me momentarily speechless. Nerves making my teeth chatter, like a bunch of marbles in my mouth.

“N-n-n-no,” I manage to croak out.

“No?” He chuckles. “You really plan to stand there and lie?”

I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a liar. A corner of my sticky facade peels off the knuckles of my clenching fist.

“I’m not lying.”

“You slept . . . with him. Admit it.”

I take a deep breath, deciding to be practical, and face the girls. They’ll understand. “He’s just a friend from FUSA. He was really drunk and I was just trying to help him out.”

Devonte creeps forward, slowly, bare feet slapping the floor.

“You wanted to sleep with him. You wanted him inside you. You couldn’t help yourself.”

“What? No!”

“You’ve been having lustful thoughts about him, haven’t you,” he says, his tone buttery soft. “And now they’re forcing you to lie.”

“Just tell the truth, Jordyn.”

Loren is standing behind me, arms crossed over her pajamas. I can’t place the look in her eye. Is she mad at me?

“Yeah, we won’t judge,” Kammy offers. “We’re your friends, girl.”

“More than friends. We’re family,” Vanessa adds, sweetly.

Devonte takes another step closer. “Maybe you’re misremembering the night. Too much drinking has your brain all mucked up.”

I shake my head, once again looking at the girls. “No, I would remember sleeping with someone.”

Devonte slams his hand on the counter, and we all jump at once. His eyes are hard black stones.

“So, he didn’t touch you. How can you be sure? You can’t be sure, ’cause you were drinking. Do you even know how much you drank?”

“I . . . I . . . I only had juice.” I turn to Loren. “You saw me.”

She shakes her head. “Only for a little while. Then you went missing.”

I gape at her in disbelief.