Unethical (15 page)

My mom wasn’t the only person who needed him.

Chapter Twenty

Blake

Payton sat in my computer chair, flipping through her MCAT study book in her lap. She had signed up to take the test next month in order to apply for early acceptance to Drexler. I planned on taking the MCAT in March, and I’d get my results back just in time to apply during the normal admission period to the med school.

“When the chromosomes line up in mitosis, this is known as which phase?”

“Aren’t you going to give us our multiple choice options?” Andrew’s edginess had built up, his patience growing thinner as Payton rattled off questions. From his refusal to participate, I was willing to bet he wasn’t nearly ready enough to take the test in a few months. For pharmacy school, he had to take the PCAT, which according to him was going to be a breeze. And from that, I assumed he meant his daddy used his position to reserve him a spot in the program.

I answered, “Metaphase.” Basic science knowledge I learned back in seventh grade. “Come on, don’t go easy on us. Give us a tough one.” I kissed the top of her head and stared down Andrew. So far he’d kept his end of the bargain by keeping his mouth shut. Just a few more weeks and I’d be done with the semester of chemistry homework hell.

Payton’s lips lifted up into a smile. I would do anything to see that smile all the time. I massaged her shoulders waiting for her to ask the next question. This was the third night in a row she spent studying in my room, and I could definitely get used to this new routine.

Her lips turned into a pout as she concentrated, moving her index fingers from question to question. Those lips needed thorough kissing, but definitely not in front of Andrew. Knowing him, he had a hidden camera in the room. Bad enough he had a mirror on the ceiling.

Ricky sprawled out on the daybed, flipping through an
Abs of Steel
magazine. He wanted to learn how to get his six pack to an eight pack. I’d offer to take him to the gym with Andrew, the abs guru, but the less time I spent with him, the better.

“Here’s a toughie. Changes in sensory aphasia are often associated with what lesion?”

Andrew scoffed and glared at her.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Fine, your options are frontal lobe, parietal lobe, Broca’s area, or Wernicke’s area.”

“Damnit, Cooper. Nobody gives a shit about your questions.”

My gaze shot to him, a cocky grin smeared on his dickhead face. Holy crap on a cracker. He just used her last name. That fucker just used her last name. He was going to pay for this.

Ricky choked on his spit, I froze behind Payton, and her head reeled back against the seat like she’d been punched.

“What did you just call me?” Her voice squeaked, but her tone dripped of pure poison.

“You heard me. You want to become a doctor to finish what your dad started. Gonna play God with some patients, huh?”

Standing behind her, I couldn’t see the full reaction, but her shoulders shook underneath my palms.

She turned and narrowed her gaze on me. “You told him?” The hurt in her eyes made me want to kick myself in the balls. How did I let myself get so wasted that I told Andrew her secret? I’d pay for this the rest of my life.

I gripped the back of the chair and said the one thing that meant nothing to her. “I’m sorry.” She would never forgive me. Not with our track record.

She slammed the book shut, grabbed her keys off my desk, and flipped me the bird. Before I had time to react, she hauled ass out of the room. I should have gone after her, but there was no talking my way out of this one. I screwed up in epic proportions. End of story.

I forgot there were two other people in the room when Ricky piped up. “I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I think you should go after her, little bro,” he said, his tone incredulous, like he had just witnessed a car crash. I would have taken a car crash over this any day.

Andrew smirked and said, “Bitch ain’t worth it, bro.” Fuck his stupid country boy accent. Fuck him.

I cracked my knuckles and planted my feet to prevent myself from walking over to his chair and pummeling his ass. “Chi Alpha, asshole.”

Chi Alpha
was our secret fraternity code to one another that signified when a brother did something great that deserved mention. From the huff and slumping of his shoulders, he got the sarcastic dig loud and clear.

Did I really lose my chance with the one girl I’d finally gotten a second chance with because of one drunken night? Yes, yes I did. And like a fucking idiot, I just let her walk out.

“Dude, go find her.” Ricky nodded his head toward the door.

Right. I had to fix this.

I ran to the parking lot just in time to see her car turn from the lot onto Walnut Street.

I pulled out my phone, cussing under my breath. Pulling up her number, I hit send.

Straight to voicemail.

“Fuck!” I shoved my hands through my hair and pressed my fingers into my skull until my whole head throbbed. A few of my brothers inside laughed at something, the sound carrying out of the open window on the second floor. Probably just my shitty mood, but this sent me over the edge.
I lost her. I fucking lost her. Again.

She didn’t go to class on Friday. I got it, she was mad at me, but missing school? School was her religion, and she was the devout follower who would drink the Kool-Aid without question.

When I asked Jules, she said Payton wasn’t feeling well.

On Monday, she wouldn’t even look at me when I passed her in the hospital on my way to the ICU. Instead of working on the same floor, we now worked on total opposite ends of the hospital.

She hadn’t returned any of my calls or texts, and when I went to visit her apartment, she didn’t answer the door, even though her car was parked in her spot—yeah, I had turned into one of
those
guys. Not one of my finer moments, but I wasn’t willing to let her go as easily as I had the night she walked out of my room, out of my life. Again.

By the time the next Friday rolled around and she wasn’t in class, I realized I’d screwed this up in legendary proportions. First, I lost my chance with her, and second, her grades were bound to take a hit if she didn’t go to class.

To keep my mind busy, I went to the gym with Ricky, benching a new max of 250. He hovered over the bench, his arm underneath the bar, waiting for me to collapse. I didn’t. I felt nothing.

“I hate to say this, dude, but I think she’s made it pretty clear it’s over.” Hearing this from Ricky made it all too real. Couldn’t someone blow sunshine up my ass and tell me everything would be okay?

I threw the bar back on the pegs and scrubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t want to believe it—we were over. I had screwed up my chances for good.

Chapter Twenty-One

Payton

It had been two weeks since I’d last seen Blake. My heart crumbled into tiny pieces each time I thought about what he had done. I’d trusted him, and he’d hurt me in the worst way possible. He knew how I felt about my father. Or how I thought I felt about him. After reading that letter, I didn’t know what to feel anymore. Two years of my dad alone at the prison, no visitors, gutted my withering heart. We both had no one, but could that be changed? I didn’t know.

“You look like shit, Nikki. What did I say about frowning?”

I cracked a smile and handed Mrs. Cripps a fresh cup of water, smoothing my fingers over the invisible lines on my forehead with my other hand.

“Is it that ex-boyfriend of yours?”

As I opened my mouth to answer, an announcement on the news caught my eye. Jules and I didn’t watch too much TV, didn’t have enough time. The headline below the newscaster with frosted, spikey tips and a Crest White smile read
Fourteen days until Dr. Cooper vs. California.
I folded my shaky arms across my chest and leaned against the end of the hospital bed. So soon. And he was going through it alone.

Would it hurt to visit him once in prison? I’d never been to one before. I shuddered. What if prison changed him? What if he had sleeves of gang tattoos and a rain drop inked under his eye? Maybe a letter would be safer. I could do a letter.

After my shift, I went to the library to study. Jules kept me updated with homework for our medical ethics class, and since attendance didn’t count as part of the grade, Dr. Centafont was none the wiser that I had been skipping. Or at least he hadn’t said anything when I saw him at the hospital.

Putting myself into full-blown study mode allowed me the escape I needed. I avoided my usual spot in the library basement, knowing Blake would probably check there. Instead, I camped out on the sixth floor, tucked into a corner. Pretty dismal location—no window, no view of anything but the sides of bookcases. No Blake. Why did he have to hurt me every time I put my trust in him?

I stared at the blank piece of paper sitting next to my MCAT study guide, the supposed letter to my dad—if I could ever figure out what to say. Maybe it’d be better to send him an edible arrangement. People liked those, right? Nothing said
Good luck; I hope you don’t get a life sentence
like fruit shaped into a flower. As I contemplated whether to add kiwis or mangos into my gift basket, someone pulled out a chair across from me and sat down.

“Hey, bitch.”

I pulled out my earbuds and dropped them on the table. “Hey, skank.”

“Whatchya studying?” Jules nodded toward the textbook that had enough highlighting on the open pages to flag down any nearby airplanes.

I looked at the blank piece of paper. Forgiveness 101? “MCAT study guide.”

“Ew, gross. Don’t remind me about that.”

I closed the book and slid it to the side. “What’s up?”

“I talked to Blake.”

The other stress-inducing man in my life. My eye ticked at the use of his name, and my stomach lurched, pins and needles washing over my skin. They could talk about me until the cows, sheep, and whatever other freakin’ animal decided to come home, but nothing could make it better. He had told Andrew the one thing I didn’t want anyone to know. How could I ever forgive that?

But when it came to Blake, I might as well change my middle name to glutton for punishment. “What did he have to say?”

“He’s a wreck. I don’t think he meant to tell Andrew, and he’s been doing his chem skill builders for, like, a month to keep him quiet.”

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”

He did Andrew’s chem homework? God, my own chem homework took a few hours a week. I couldn’t imagine doing double duty, especially since the equations were randomized. Jules and I quickly learned that when we tried to help each other out with homework.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but maybe cut him some slack. He’s crazy about you.”

I sank lower in my seat, glowering at the MCAT textbook.

“Stop it. You’re acting like an effing child. This guy has been stuck on you for two years. Love like that doesn’t come around…like ever.”

No, love like that didn’t exist. Someone always let me down. Like sharing something that wasn’t theirs to tell. Sure, my identity was bound to come out sooner or later, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be on my terms. And definitely not before my acceptance to med school.

But a part of me wanted to believe Blake would never do anything to hurt me. If I could give my dad a second chance, didn’t Blake deserve one, too?

General consensus: I was an idiot. I had flip-flopped my mind on Blake so many times, and why? Because I was scared—scared I might lose him again. Grasping at anything to push him away had become a bad habit over the past couple years—one I had a hard time kicking.

Fat chance he’d want me back after I’d ignored him, but I’d give it one more try. I got ready for the hospital and rehearsed the speech in my head.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the hospital and made my way through the lobby.
You can do this. He waited for two years, what’s a couple weeks?
I shook my head.
Yeah, right. You are so kicked to the curb.
Heck,
I’d
kick my ass to the curb if I was him. “Hey, Brittany, do you know where Blake is?” Brittany was on intern-watching duty for me and Blake tonight while Dr. Centafont made his rounds in the hospital.

She glanced at the clipboard on her desk. “Looks like he’s on the eighth floor.”

A shudder ran through me. The children’s wing, where all the terminal patients stayed. I could handle the blood, guts, needles, and bodily fluids. Things I couldn’t handle—seeing children in pain. Adults? Yeah, I felt bad, but with children, I wanted to dissolve into a puddle of tears on the floor.

I made my way to the elevator, where several people in green scrubs stood, waiting. The doors opened, and we all piled into the confined space. Five floors until my stop, every stupid floor lit, giving me ample time to think about the horrors that lurked upstairs.

Instead of focusing on bald heads and emaciated bodies, I concentrated on my impending grovel sesh with Blake. He had to understand. I would make him understand.

Once I got off the elevator, I rounded the corner and came to an abrupt stop. In the communal area, where the kids played together, drew pictures, and watched TV, ten kids sat on the ground in a semicircle, Blake propped on the edge of a chair in front of them. He held out a book to the side and read in one of his goofy voices he reserved for little kids. I leaned against the wall, taking in this sight. The kids giggled, and I even heard a few snorts. Once he finished reading the book, one of the kids jumped up and gave him a hug, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. My ovaries exploded while baby-making music played in my head. God, he’d make a great dad someday.

Slow it down, Speed Racer.
No need to get ahead of myself when I didn’t even know if he would take me back.

But I couldn’t help it. He had it all. Looks, smarts, and the ability to melt my heart even when he wasn’t trying. A panicky feeling settled deep in my bones. His forgiveness wasn’t a sure thing. I had ignored him. What was to say he would want to try again?

No way I’d know until I laid it all out.

I took a few steps toward him but froze when one of the nurses told the kids they needed to go back to their rooms. She caressed Blake’s cheek, and I distinctly heard her say “call me” from twenty feet away. He smiled and nodded.

Shrapnel lodged in my heart, sending sharp pains coursing through my veins and arteries. The air escaped from my lungs in a rush. I made a beeline for the elevator and pressed the down arrow. Unless the elevator made it there soon, I had a high probability of losing it in the lobby of the children’s wing. The elevator door dinged and opened just in time for me to go into meltdown mode. Luckily, I rode this elevator solo, because hyperventilation set in. I gripped the side rail, the only thing grounding me. I held on for dear life, fearing that if I let go, I would lose all sense of reality. How could I be so stupid? Of course he’d moved on. I had lost my chance with him, and now he was going to hook up with that nurse.

When I realized the elevator wasn’t moving, I pressed the button for the third floor and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. I had to pull it together long enough to ask Brittany if I could go home. No way I could get through my shift with a chance of running into Blake.

Brittany sat, hunched in her computer chair, squinting at her monitor when I walked up to her station.

My pulse hammered in my ears, and I nervously adjusted my ponytail. “I need to go home. Emergency.”

She looked up from her monitor. The irritation erased from her face, replaced with wide eyes. “Everything all right?”

“Just a family matter.” I managed to squeeze out the words. If I had to talk any more, it would be between ragged breaths and snot.

“Go home. I hope everything’s okay.”

I nodded and turned the other direction, fleeing the building before anyone had a chance to see the inevitable breakdown. My chest ached, like someone had taken a chisel to my heart, chipping away, all hope smothered in the rubble. He was over me. It was over.

I woke up soaked in sweat. My drenched sheets suctioned to my legs, and my tank top clung to my skin like I had just taken a dip in the pool. I hated these dreams. They always ended the same way—my father killing my mother. Except this one had been different. Instead, my dad took the fatal dose of morphine, crumpling in my mother’s arms. I ran my fingers through my hair and blew out a deep breath. Dad wasn’t dead, but he was stuck in a small prison cell. All alone. And I hadn’t bothered to contact him once. The thought burned like acid through my heart, eating away at my happiness. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my erratic heartbeat, shaking away thoughts of being a crappy daughter.

Jules hadn’t come rushing in this time, so I assumed I didn’t scream. Either that or she had built immunity to my night terrors. I squished my way out of bed and stripped my sheets. I couldn’t just toss on another pair of clothes over my clammy skin, so I took off my shorts and tank, wrapped myself in a towel, and padded toward the bathroom.

Light funneled out through the cracks of Jules’s door. I looked at the clock on the oven, which said it was after three in the morning. Why was she up at this ungodly hour? Face palm. I bet I woke her up.

I knocked on her door, and a muffled “Come in” came from the other side. I opened the door to find Jules sitting crisscross on her bed, earbud in one ear, and the other one dangling over her shoulder. She still wore her jeans and tank top from earlier today. Her textbook in her lap flapped around on her bouncing leg.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” I knew the answer to this, but I still felt like I needed an excuse to bug her at three in the morning.

“Oh, me? No, no, no. I’m good, just studying.” She rattled this off, her leg still bouncing, a little too much pep in her step for this hour of the night. Like watching a cheerleader ingest a whole pack of pixie sticks.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm.” She gave one of those fake smiles, the one with no teeth that screamed mass murder-suicide plot.

Then I saw it. A baggie of white pills sitting on her dresser. I didn’t have a pharmacy degree, but I’d been around long enough to know that you didn’t keep medicine in a baggie. Especially a prescription.

“What is that?” I nodded to the pills.

“That?” She pointed to it with her pen. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You seem hyped out of your mind. Are you on something?”

She looked down at her textbook, let out a sigh, and patted the spot next to her on the bed. I sat down, adjusting my towel so I didn’t give her a peep show.

“You know how I’ve been working, like, a billion hours at GNC?”

“Yeah?” They had been working her hard. Of course they were. A cute blonde could sell protein and membership cards to any male with a pulse.

“I hadn’t been able to study as much, and when I did have time, I was super tired, so Andrew offered to help me out.”

Maybe it was the bad dream I just had or maybe it was because it was the middle of the freakin’ night, but I wasn’t following. “Andrew? How?” Andrew sometimes came to class a little shaky, which was definitely what I was starting to notice about Jules, too.

“He had some extra Adderall; said it would help me focus.”

Oh. My. God.
He was supplying her drugs.

“Jules, you need to stop taking these.” I reached over and grabbed the bag, holding it in front of her. “That’s really dangerous. You don’t have ADD.”

“I’m fine. Seriously.” The tremor in her arm was a stark contradiction to her statement.

Jeez, how long had she been taking it? This needed to come to an end. A few girls in high school used Adderall to stay up late to study for AP tests. They both developed an addiction to it and had to go to rehab. I couldn’t just sit on the sidelines and watch my best friend turn into an addict.

“No more. If you need help studying, I’m more than happy to help out, you know that.”

She nodded. “Okay, I promise. No more.” She swallowed deeply, and her lip began to tremble. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, even when I tried to catch her attention. Heck, I’d be embarrassed, too, if Jules caught me taking drugs. Hopefully I caught this early enough. And to make sure, I’d talk to Andrew first thing on Friday.

“Try to get some sleep.” I squeezed her hand, slid off the bed, and went to shower, flushing the pills down the toilet as I waited for the water to heat up.

I waited to catch Andrew after class on Friday. Sure, I’d be late to anthro yet again, but it would be for a good cause. Something about Drexler eased the neurotic side of me, and somehow I rationalized that it was okay to be late once in a while. My choir teacher would totally not be impressed.

Jules and Blake had already left for their next class as Andrew packed his spiral into his backpack.