What Happened That Night by DeAnna Cameron

Author:DeAnna Cameron
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Wattpad Books
Published: 2019-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

before

I showered after the Tomlins finally left, taking their Tupperware containers and lawn chairs with them. I scrubbed my face and then washed the scent of smoke from my body, feeling as if somehow he was there, his odor touching my skin and lingering in my hair.

I dumped my clothes into the washing machine. He’d never touched me, had barely even spoken to me before I took the trash out to the curb and he’d found me there, but I still felt his fingers scratching at my thighs and his palm pressed against the back of my head. I felt his breath on my neck and his words lodged in my ear and the taste of his tongue in my mouth. He was everywhere, inside and out, and no matter how many times I washed my body or brushed my teeth or tore the letters he wrote me, he was still there. Like a stain that refused to be washed out, a wound that refused to heal.

I decided to run my clothes through the washing cycle one more time, convinced he’d managed to touch me without my noticing. I was pouring a capful of detergent into the machine when I noticed Emily standing in the doorframe, her hair messily tied in a bun, wearing a tank top that showed the white tan lines against her shoulders.

“Those clothes are already clean,” she told me.

“They still smell like smoke.”

When I tried to walk past her, she crossed her arms and took a step to the side, her bare foot slapping against the tile as she stared at me, green eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s going on with you? You’re acting all weird, and I mean more than usual. Did you and Griffin—?”

“Emily,” I sighed.

“Couples argue, Clara,” she told me, as if she had any idea of what a normal, healthy argument between a couple would be like. I stared back at her, willing her to move. I didn’t want to hear her talking about Griffin and me like that, like we were a forbidden secret she’d discovered in our driveway. “There is always one way to get a guy to shut up about his insecurities.” She smiled and then winked as I felt bile building in my throat.

“We’re not together,” I said before shouldering my way past her, just as the washing machine started turning behind me. She followed me through the hallway and up the stairs, not saying a word. I was grabbing the doorknob to my bedroom when I felt her fingers clutching the fabric of my sweatshirt.

“Clara, come on.”

Her bright blue fingernails with white dots cinched around my sweatshirt, her grip tugging me backward, and I wanted her to let me go. I wanted fingers to stop gripping around me. I wanted hands to stop touching me. I wanted voices to stop saying my name. I wanted eyes to stop staring at me. I wanted whatever it was holding me, bringing me closer and closer, to just let me go.

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