Chapter 2

Miles couldn’t believe it took the rest of the day and part of the next to clean out and clean up the guest bedroom. Getting his desk and computer out was the primary hassle, but he also had a bunch of memorabilia he had collected over the years representing different games he enjoyed. A second desk was strewn with computer parts, most of which went in the trash. Miles had built his gaming rig from scratch his junior year, and when some of his schoolmates heard that, they sought him out to upgrade their rigs or build entirely new ones.

One senior got all pissed off at him when he wouldn’t give his computer back without payment first after a pricey graphics card upgrade. When the guy finally coughed up the money and got his computer back, he went to school and complained profusely about Miles’s work. The guy even lied, saying that Miles screwed up components that he hadn’t touched or needed to touch during the install.

And so, Miles’s short-lived idea of building and repairing PCs to make a living came to a crashing halt. The senior was well-known around school and very vocal in his unfounded criticism of Miles’s work, while Miles was little more than a body taking up a chair at the time. Nobody bothered asking his side of the story so he could defend himself. They just stopped coming to him for computer work.

The graphics cards, RAM sticks, HDDs, and tiny heat sinks were mostly worthless. All of it worked, but either they were low-quality parts from budget gaming rigs, like the heat sinks, or the tech had become obsolete, as with the HDDs and RAMs. A few graphics cards were junk that he hadn’t bothered to throw away yet, but most were last-gen and still good enough to run any game out on the market today, just not at insane refresh rates or resolutions. He might be able to sell those for a bit of cash.

The last things to move were the four bookshelves against the back wall. Miles looked with pride upon the small library he had amassed. The books ranged from fantasy and sci-fi novels to computer science textbooks to cookbooks, and even had a few manga sprinkled in there.

After boxing up most of the books he hadn’t looked at in forever, he wrestled two bookshelves out to the living room and set them up on either side of the entertainment center, while the last went into his room. Some of the manga contained very adult scenes, and Miles didn’t want those out in the open for visitors to see. Since he didn’t know what Maya would bring with her, Miles decided to leave one of the bookshelves for her to use.

The next few hours consisted of rearranging his room so it didn’t feel claustrophobic with the addition of his computer desk and a bookshelf, then loading up all the books that had been hastily thrown on his bed onto the bookshelf before tackling his computer desk. Getting his gaming rig set up wasn’t difficult, except that a bunch of the cords had gotten tangled in the trek across the hall, and he had to reinstall his dual-monitor adjustable mounts. The desk was already heavy for one person to manhandle, and he didn’t want to break the mounts, so he removed them before dragging the desk down the hall.

The hardest part for Miles was the memorabilia. He had fond memories of every game a piece represented, but like the books he packed up, he hadn’t played some of those games for years. Miles decided to pack up a few more books and place the coins, stuffed animals, and figurines from the games he had the best memories of on the bookshelves. Maybe he would put up some wall-mounted shelves for the rest in the future.

When he finally finished, suppertime had passed by hours ago. He made a quick dish of chicken and chorizo on a bed of white rice, put his mother’s in the microwave, ate his with a heap of sour cream because he accidentally bought hot chorizo instead of mild, shot a text to his mother warning her of his mistake, then collapsed into bed. Miles assumed that he would fall asleep immediately, but as he nodded off, it suddenly hit him. Maya Andrews would be living here, under the same roof as him, for the foreseeable future.

She’d be sleeping just across the hall. Maybe she slept in a sheer nightgown, and he’d catch a glimpse of her body late at night as they both needed to go to the bathroom at the same time...

Laaame ... if it was just a fantasy, then there was no reason to half-ass it with some ‘probable’ scenario. He may as well imagine her sauntering in here naked, saying, “You wanted a chance to last longer than five seconds? Well, here it is.”

Miles sighed and reached for the bottle of lube in his nightstand drawer.

At school the next day, Miles locked eyes with Maya a few times in the halls but never approached or spoke to her. They lived in two different worlds, and he didn’t think trying to inject himself into hers would be appreciated. He also stopped acting like a low-key stalker and resumed his regular routine. At lunch, Miles went to the library and found a quiet corner to read in until afternoon classes.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours today, Maya,” Allie asked at lunch.

Maya’s head whipped around to look at her friend. “What do you mean?”

“This is the happiest and most relaxed I’ve seen you all week, yet at the same time, you’re constantly looking around as if something’s about to jump out at you.”

“I found a place to stay, which is probably why I feel a bit happier and relaxed. But I don’t think anybody’s going to jump out at me. I just figured that the person I’m staying with might want to talk before I move in.”

Allie crossed her arms and glared at her. “You’re being blatantly vague, Maya. The person, or the guy?”

Maya sighed. “The guy.”

“Oooohh. Did Maya land herself a boyfriend the moment she was out from under Daddy’s thumb?” Liz asked in a conspiratorial tone.

“No,” said Maya. “But he did say that he would help me however he could, without expecting me to sleep with him. I didn’t think for a second I’d be asking if I could live with him, but he said he’d keep his word, and his mom agreed to let me move into their spare bedroom.”

“Does this guy have a name?”

Maya looked down. “Yes.”

“And it is...?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because if he wanted you to know, he would have sat in his normal place and I could just introduce you. But he’s not in the cafeteria as far as I can see.”

“Ohh, so that’s why you were looking around so much,” said Allie.

“Yeah, plus ... I don’t know if you’d approve.”

“It’s not like I can be judgy about who anyone dates,” Liz laughed.

“It’s also not like you’re dating him anyway. You’re just his roommate ... right?” Allie asked.

“Yes. Just roommates.”

“We shouldn’t be judgy of this person anyway, whether she’s dating him or not,” Kristen piped in, adjusting her glasses while glaring at everyone around the table before turning back to Maya. “As long as you are safe and your roommate isn’t some drug dealer or the kind who will beat you up for saying anything he doesn’t like, then we have nothing to say.”

“Thanks, Kris. But I’d be surprised if this guy ever smoked pot, much less did hard drugs, and if he ever raised a hand to me ... I can almost guarantee I could take him.”

Maya understood the hidden question behind Kristen’s words. In her junior year, Kristen got involved with a guy attending the local college. He turned out to be a mentally and physically abusive dirtbag. She hid the bruises well, but when you share a locker room with some of your closest friends every day and suddenly have difficulty doing basic dance moves because of bruised and sore arms and legs, they’re bound to notice something is off.

Kristen was also the most intelligent, punctual, and organized person any of them knew. She was the class’s valedictorian and often the person the rest of the team went to when they had trouble with a subject. Since middle school, Kristen had only missed class when she had her tonsils removed. So, when she told them she was going to see her boyfriend and then didn’t show up for class the next day, the rest of the team immediately started to worry and raised their concerns with the school counselor. With the help of the dance team, the police showed up at the house the boyfriend shared with three other guys and found Kristen there, badly beaten and bearing the evidence of some very rough and very unwanted sex.

The college expelled the boyfriend, and he went to jail for sexual assault, downgraded from a rape charge, with the agreement that he serve his jail time in another county on the other side of the state. Kristen spent the next twenty-four hours in the hospital under observation and the following day at home but came back to school immediately afterward, despite her parent’s objections.

The vice principal stopped her in the hallway after first period and suggested she return home. The sight of her beaten face was disturbing the other kids, and the school was already getting complaints from parents. Maya and her friends looked on as their almost unnaturally calm teammate absolutely lost her shit and unloaded on the vice-principal in the middle of the hallway. The student counselor came to the poor bastard’s rescue and led Kristen away. Less than an hour later, an announcement came over the public address system, stating there would be a presentation in the auditorium that afternoon. Girls only.

Maya and her friends walked into an auditorium with windows covered in cardboard and any gaps taped over. Once all the girls had filed in, all the male faculty left. Later, Maya discovered that the men guarded the doors during the presentation.

The student counselor took the stage as teachers walked up and down the aisles confiscating cell phones and announced that what they were about to see might be disturbing, but the message and the reason behind it were important.

Then, Kristen walked out from the side of the stage, and the crowd gasped. She wore the bottom of a string bikini and nothing else as she stepped up to the podium. This wasn’t the sexy, cute, slightly nerdy Kristen they all knew. Purple bruises covered her torso, arms, and legs. Three butterfly bandages over her left eye kept a nasty cut closed. Kristen’s lip still looked slightly puffy on one side but had mostly healed. Her lack of a top revealed that one of her nipples was still red and notably swollen, looking distended and slightly deformed compared to the other.

Once she had everyone’s attention, Kristen stated some statistics about sexual assault and date rape for a minute before launching into her own story and the observations she had made since being rescued. She talked at length about the way that her boyfriend conditioned her, and how he weaponized love to get her to do whatever he wanted. She spoke about how he trained her to immediately accept the blame every time he got angry and how he used the fear of being rejected and alone to keep her quiet when he hit her. She also repeatedly pointed out that she was the valedictorian and that many considered her one of the most intelligent people in school. That this happened to her should be seen as proof that intelligence does not equal wisdom regarding matters of the heart.

It was easily the most brutal hour Maya had ever experienced at school. Sadly, most of what Kristen said wasn’t new. She and every other girl in the auditorium had heard everything before without Kristen’s personal take. However, hearing it from a woman who had just been rescued from that life and still bore the bruises and pain made Kristen’s talk hit harder than any class discussion.

A few girls were sobbing uncontrollably as Kristen finished and started getting dressed. The counselor and some helpers moved the crying girls off to the side as the other teachers handed everyone’s phones back. Once Kristen had clothed herself, a teacher dismissed everyone back to class with the caveat that if they felt they needed time to process Kristen’s message, they were welcome to hang out in the library or call their parents if they wanted to go home.

A few girls went back to class, a lot went to the library until school let out, and the rest got rides home. Maya and the rest of the dance team went to the library with Kristen and supported her as various girls approached her with questions. Kristen’s answers were frank and often graphic when discussing the physical aspects of the abuse she endured. Maya winced repeatedly during the descriptions, and Allie confided to the rest of them that she thought the descriptions were a little too graphic, but she never said anything to Kristen.

Despite her quiet demeanor, helping the librarians, volunteering for the yearbook staff, and all the other stuff she was involved in, Maya had no doubt after that day that Kristen was the strongest person she knew. After listening to the torment she had suffered at her boyfriend’s hands, Maya knew there was no way she could ever be brave enough to do what Kristen did that day.

Since then, Maya and the other girls had come to expect these kinds of hidden questions when discussing new boyfriends or, in Liz’s case, girlfriends.

Maya also knew Kristen would be deeply disappointed with her for the stupid risks she took the night she met Miles.

“As long as you are safe, that’s what’s important,” said Kristen.

“I think I’d feel better if you were living with someone we knew,” said Allie’s boyfriend, Beau. “But, given what happened with Damon, I can’t blame you.”

“I heard you gave him a talking-to about that,” said Allie.

“Just because he’s our star wide receiver doesn’t mean he should think it’s okay to take advantage of Maya’s situation. The man learned nothing from his brother,” he said with a meaningful glance at Kristen. Her talks last year had landed one senior boy in jail, while a few others earned stern lectures from the principal and the county district attorney. Damon’s older brother was one of those who received a lecture.

Allie leaned over and rested her head on Beau’s arm. “You take such good care of all of us.”

“You take good care of me, and your friends are important to you, so it makes sense that I look out for them, too.”

“You sure do take care of me, too,” Allie giggled with a suggestive butt wiggle.

Liz leaned over the table and grasped Maya’s hand. “How awful of them to make us watch their horny talk while we sit here without boyfriends,” she said, being overly dramatic.

“Or girlfriends,” said Kristen.

Liz perked up and looked at their friend. “I get the strange feeling that wasn’t directed at me.”

Kristen’s face went pink as she shrugged. “I’ve been having a hard time trusting guys. But I miss that,” she replied, glancing at Allie and Beau. “I’ve been wondering if maybe swinging for the other team might be better.”