Page 43 of No One But Us

“No, that women like that constantly seek affirmation by moving from one guy to the next, usually one who belongs to someone else.”

“Give me a break, Ginny. You’ve known Elle your entire life. That is not her.”

“No? Then explain why she’s here hitting on you when you have a girlfriend and is also sleeping with Max?

Something cold steals over me. “Sleeping with Max?”

Ginny raises a shoulder. “Allison told me. She caught Elle coming out of Max’s room last night.”

“That doesn’t mean she was sleeping with him.”

“Oh really? So what happens when you take a girl back to your room during a party and shut the door? She came out wearing his clothes.”

Rage feels like it’s swallowing me whole. Not just rage at Max, which I could maybe justify, but at Elle too—which tells me all the reasons I’m pissed are the wrong ones.

“Well, there’s nothing going on between me and Elle.”

“There’d sure as fuck better not be. Can you imagine what this would do to Mom if you’re right? My God. How could you have let Elle come down here at all? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because Elle had nothing to do with it, that’s why. And you can’t say anything to her about this. She has no idea.”

“Why the fuck not? Maybe it would do her some good to see how much damage bullshit like her mother’s does!”

“I know you’re mad, but it’s not fair to take it out on her. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough thanks to her parents? And Elle hates that people compare her to her mom. If she thought you were doing it too, she’d be devastated.”

Ginny clenches her jaw, and then her shoulders sag. She knows I’m right. “Fine, but if I get the slightest hint that you’re hooking up with Elle, I’m going to tell her everything. And it won’t be a pleasant conversation. Capiche?”

She goes back inside, and I stand there, stunned by how colossally I’ve fucked up. I think of Elle as the little kid at that awards ceremony again, by herself. No one to celebrate her wins, to tell her she was doing something right. No one to fall back on. A decade later, and she’s still alone. And now her best friend is turning on her, because of me.

I’m going to stay away from her, even if it kills me. Because I can’t stand to be responsible for anything else that goes wrong.

Chapter 25

ELLE

I go downstairs the next morning with my stomach turning—how much of that is my hangover and how much is flat-out dread, I’m not sure. Max and James are already up, sitting at the kitchen table. James pulls the paper toward him and stares at it fixedly as I walk by. What, am I Medusa now? He can’t even freaking look at me?

“What happened to you last night?” Max asks. “You totally disappeared on us.”

My best friend stabbed me in the back. That’s what happened. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You got another flower delivery,” James says. His voice is flat, but there’s an edge just beneath it. “I assume they’re from Edward. I thought you were going to tell him to cut that shit out?”

After everything that happened last night, he thinks he can kick today off with accusations?

“Fuck you, James. I did.”

I go to the laundry room to get the bouquet. It’s even bigger than the previous one. “Wow,” says Max, walking toward me. “I know you give an amazing blow job, Elle, but that’s—”

There’s a sickening thud as his body hits the wall. James has him pinned by his throat, and I stand speechless, my brain racing to make sense of what has happened.

“And how,” says James, “would you know that?”

Max throws his hands up. “Jesus. Settle down. I know because Ryan told me.”

James still stands there, unappeased, holding Max to the wall as if he’s been frozen in that position.

“Let him go, James,” I whisper. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” James doesn’t budge. “Let him go.”