Let Me Go Read online

  Let Me Go

  Let Me Series: Book Three

  By Lily Foster

  Shorefront Books

  Let Me Go

  By Lily Foster

  Copyright © 2014 Lily Foster

  ISBN: 970-0-9905941-5-4 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-0-9905941-4-7 (print)

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any other manner without the express written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living and dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book Cover Typography: Scarlett Rugers Design

  www.scarlettrugers.com

  Formatting: Polgarus Studio

  www.polgarusstudio.com

  Other Titles by Lily Foster

  Let Me Be the One

  Book One: Darcy and Tom’s story

  Let Me Love You

  Book Two: Rene and Caleb’s story

  Let Me Heal Your Heart

  Book Four: Anna and Declan’s story

  Chapter One

  Dylan

  I was bored silly, sitting in the living room of our frat house watching Sports Center, nursing a hangover and listening to a bunch of clowns argue about which one had the hotter girlfriend. A guy who belonged to a neighboring frat, I thought his name was Ethan, cleared his throat loudly and said, “I’m gonna shut all of y’all up right now.”

  Virginia was an odd place in that Yankees like me, who spoke with our crisp New England accent, intermingled on a daily basis with southern boys who dropped the “y’all” and “I’m fixing to…” a lot. I guess I kind of liked the sound of it for some reason because it always got my attention. Whatever he was showing off on his phone had made an impression on the five or so guys sitting on the other side of the big living room. I gestured lazily in their direction. “Toss it over.”

  We were both seniors so he shouldn’t have shown me any deference but he seemed wary of me and had good reason to be. I was a fiercely loyal and good to the people close to me but I didn’t exactly have the reputation of Mr. Congeniality. I just never felt like I needed to give everyone and their grandmother the time of day.

  He looked like an expectant puppy when he walked over with a big, stupid grin on his face and showed me the screen. I took the phone from him and he instinctively backed away. I had to control myself so that I didn’t give this douchebag the satisfaction of my response but what I saw on that screen blew me away. The picture looked like a work of art. That asshole Ethan was the Ansel Adams of phone-snapped nudie pics. Before me was a stunning blond with flawless, fair skin sleeping on her side so that you could see the sweet curve of her ass and the round fullness of her breast. She had beautiful facial features from what I could see of her profile, and her lips were parted in a way that could make your imagination run wild. I asked, feigning disinterest, “Who is this?”

  He made a stupid, smug face. “My girlfriend.”

  “How long you been going out with her?”

  “I started hanging out with her the end of last semester.”

  “Tapped that yet?”

  He looked like he was thinking about lying and then looked down at the floor. “Nah…soon though.”

  Excellent, I thought, she was at least a semi-good girl. As I started pushing buttons, deleting the picture, wiping the phone clean and returning it back to the original settings, I asked, “Do you make a habit of taking nude pictures of your girlfriends while they’re out cold and then showing them to other guys?”

  “N-n-no.”

  With that, I popped out the memory card, put it on the floor next to me, took one of the dumbbells that Justin left all over the goddamn house and gently smashed it to bits. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

  I tossed his phone back to him and gestured towards the door. “Here you go. You’ll have to reenter your contacts. Sorry ‘bout that. Now get the fuck out.”

  “What the hell?”

  Brian, who smelled like a brewery and I thought had been sleeping as he laid face-down on one of the couches growled, “He said get out. Are you deaf, motherfucker?”

  Brian was a giant. I don’t think the guy ever had a fight in his life because he’d only have to look at someone and maybe bark out a few words and they were sure to back down. It was always good to have a friend like that who had your back.

  Ethan skulked out of the house and Christian commented dryly, “Always the hospitable one, aren’t you, Cole?”

  “Would you like someone doing that to your sister?”

  “Good point. Whatever, I never liked that guy anyway.”

  I looked over to the other guys, mostly juniors and sophomores, and asked, “Any of you know her?”

  Matt reluctantly answered, “My girlfriend is good friends with her.”

  “About today, you—”

  Matt cut me off, looking distressed, “I know, I won’t say anything.”

  “Mind your manners, Matthew. What I was going to say, before you rudely interrupted, was that I want you to tell your girlfriend what happened today. This girl shouldn’t think she’s dating Prince Charming.”

  Christian tossed me a football across the room. “Really, Dylan? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

  “Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit.”

  Then I tossed the football back and smiled as I thought to myself that I was the really the shit because you know I sent that picture to my own phone before I deleted it from his. And I was planning on studying every pixel of that photo like a goddamn art critic later on.

  Kasia

  I had been shaking like a leaf for two days now. I couldn’t eat and I was convinced that every guy who walked by me on campus had seen the picture—or pictures.

  When Bernadette came over Sunday night and told me what Ethan had done, I dropped the glass I was holding in my hand and, like a zombie, walked right over the shards to get my phone so that I could call him. I think Bernadette screamed when she saw my foot bleeding but it barely registered. I dialed his number with my hands shaking violently and barely got out the words, “Ethan, how could you do that to me?”

  Ethan was sticking with the deny, deny, deny strategy but I could tell by his voice that he knew exactly what I was talking about and that he had, without a doubt, done it. When he was done babbling, I regained some semblance of composure and told him, with dead calm, not to call me or come near me again. That composure was lost right after I hung up the phone, though, and I’d spent the next two days crying and angry at myself for being such a poor judge of character.

  Ethan was the first guy I had dated since breaking up with the only other boyfriend I’d ever had, Patryk. Patryk and I grew up together in Brooklyn. Our families were close friends. We started dating senior year of high school and stayed together until nearly the end of sophomore year. Pat was at Columbia and I was in school in Virginia. I think the distance just wore on us both and I know, for me at least, that I was feeling restless and wanted to spread my wings. Patryk also had the annoying tendency of assuming control, making every decision for both of us. The fact that my parents assumed that I was going to marry Patryk also grated on me. I loved him but he was almost too familiar.

  My whole life I had straddled two worlds. I grew up in Greenpoint, a neighborhood in Brooklyn known as “Little Poland”. My parents were immigrants, tied to Poland but enormously proud of their American citizenship. They held on to tradition but wanted their children to assimilate and thrive. My parents insisted upon good grades and, as a result, all of us were granted acceptance to the most prestigious specialized public high sc
hools or, in my case, a scholarship to private prep school. So, little Kasia Mazur would spend her days among the most privileged kids in Manhattan and would then go back home to our rowhouse on Lorimar Street and sit around the dinner table enjoying gulasz or bigos with my parents and three older brothers. My life was very different from my classmates, who summered in the Hamptons or the Vineyard. The Mazurs “summered” in Coney Island.

  Right now, though, the familiarity of home and Patryk was a tempting comfort. There was nothing about Ethan that would have led me to believe he could treat me with such disregard. I mean, I wasn’t in deep with him; I knew him for a year or so, we hooked up at the end of junior year, and I liked him. He had been fun, easygoing, and a good distraction for me. I now felt utterly used and thoroughly mortified.

  I hoped that my mother’s expression about the seventy-two-hour rule was true. She always said that no matter what happened, no matter how awful, no matter how bad you felt, you usually could see things in a better light seventy-two hours later. In the past it had held true but I felt like hell today and I was forty-eight hours in already.

  Bernadette didn’t spare any details Tuesday night when she sat on my bed, relaying the story again at my insistence. I questioned every detail. “What exactly could you see in the picture, Bernadette?”

  I felt like I had to know, because although I’d had a few drinks, I didn’t make a habit of being drunk and I did not recall being totally naked at any time with Ethan. “He said you were practically naked in it, Kasia. I’m not sure what Matt meant exactly. If it’s any consolation,” she cracked a smile as she threw a pillow at me feigning jealous anger, “my boyfriend said you looked really good.”

  “It’s no consolation.”

  “Hey, but it is pretty wild that Dylan Cole came to your rescue. He never struck me as the warm and fuzzy type but I think his knight in shining armor side is pretty hot. Doesn’t hurt that he’s freaking gorgeous, right?”

  “Come again?”

  “I told you all this the other night. You were such a basket case I don’t think you processed much beyond the basics.” She leaned in closer and smiled dreamily. “Apparently, Dylan got a hold of Ethan’s phone, deleted the picture and wiped the phone’s memory clean. He reamed Ethan, basically calling him a pathetic pervert, and then kicked him out of their house.”

  I sat speechless for a second. I wanted to cry again but this time with gratitude. But at the same time, while I didn’t know Dylan personally, I did know of him and it was hard to reconcile the two personas. Bernadette was describing an honorable, good-natured guy but I’d been at some of the parties his frat threw and my initial impression was of a snotty, entitled jerk.

  Dylan was someone you noticed in a room; he had sandy blond hair that fell into his green eyes and he was tall and slender with a muscular build. Without even knowing his circumstances, you could tell he was wealthy. He was like so many of the boys I’d known in high school who just oozed wealth and privilege from every pore. I don’t know what it was but the command Dylan seemed to hold over people, coupled with his somewhat icy demeanor, made you wary of him.

  One night at a party I became fascinated watching Dylan. I saw him take a girl upstairs that I was pretty sure was his frat brother’s girlfriend. Twenty minutes later they were back downstairs, her with flushed cheeks and a guilty expression, while he didn’t look like he had a care in the world as he chatted up the unsuspecting boyfriend. I didn’t know for sure if they’d had sex but my impression was that he would take anything he wanted from a girl and most seemed willing to give it up to him.

  By Wednesday I finally started to come out of my funk. When I walked into the Pit I saw, among the packed tables, a bunch of Dylan and Matt’s frat brothers eating lunch. I’d been avoiding this place for the past few days just for this reason. But two days of eating practically nothing but chips had left me feeling light-headed, so I stopped in to grab a wrap that I was planning to scarf down during my Marketing Strategies class. I snuck in the side entrance to avoid walking up the central aisle that was flanked by long rows of tables on each side. I was just about to sneak back out the same way I’d come in when I heard Valerie yell my name so loudly that she could have shattered all the windows in the place. She was a loud, rowdy girl and I loved her but today I wanted to take the wrap I’d just bought and shove it in her mouth to shut her up. I could see out of the corner of my eye a few of the Kappa brothers’ heads turn at the sound of my name. I decided to hold my head up high and make my way towards Val, Bernadette, and Trish who were sitting only a few rows away from them. I smiled broadly. “Hey.”

  Bernadette beamed. “Looking good, Kasia.”

  “I feel better.”

  Trish looked crushed. “Were you sick? You didn’t answer my calls. I just figured you were studying or something.”

  Trish was a sweet softie who wanted to take care of everyone. “Nothing major, Trish.” I gestured towards Valerie. “It’s a good thing Bernadette was there to nurse me back to health because I haven’t seen my roommate in days. She’s been locked up in Cooper’s bedroom.”

  “I know, I know. I feel like a turd now, Kasia. I’m sorry, he just never wants me to leave and,” she gave me a wicked grin, “I see no reason to leave his bed on most days.”

  Bernadette scowled. “Valerie, you’re going to fail out. I mean it. You haven’t been to Modern Lit for like, two weeks. He doesn’t take attendance but you’re going to fail the midterm.”

  Valerie waved her off breezily. “I’ll manage.”

  Valerie was one of those people who, A—had most likely read every book on the syllabus years ago and B—could ace the test without hearing so much as one lecture. She was that smart. I didn’t struggle academically but I envied that about her. She was just on a different level than most people.

  The seventy-two-hour rule stood as law, as I was able to speak about what had happened with the girls without feeling like I’d make a spectacle of myself by crying in public. I waved them in closer and looked to Bernadette. “I know Bernie didn’t spill but something crappy happened over the weekend and that’s why I’ve been M.I.A.” I looked to Val with a stern warning in my glare. “Don’t react and do not get loud right now, Valerie. I don’t want any attention.”

  I went on to give them the brief version and Bernadette added on the Dylan-to-the-rescue bit, which was the only positive segment of the sordid tale. Valerie kept her voice low but looked like she could spit nails. “I could kill that little-prick-motherfucker. And now I won’t feel bad spreading that little piece of information around, Kasia.”

  Trish was giggling then. “How do you know that, you creeper? Did Kasia’s sheets slide off him one morning?”

  Valerie said it as if it was nothing, “I did him once freshman year. He was nothing special. I actually felt bad when you hooked up with him, Kasia. I knew you weren’t in for anything earth shattering.”

  I met her gaze, imploring her as I said, “You say nothing to him, Valerie, ok? I just want this to go away.”

  Trish took my hand. “This has probably blown over already, Kasia. Nude phone pictures are a dime a dozen in a frat house.”

  “I wasn’t nude…I don’t think.” Oh crap, I could feel the tears coming on again. “Someone change the subject, please.”

  “Sorry,” Trish went on, “You know, I’m not surprised about Dylan, though. I know he comes off like a badass but I think he’s nice. He was in a class with me last year and there was another kid with some disability—something with his motor skills. I noticed Dylan would hang back a few extra minutes, just like the other kid did, and then I’d see him helping with his bag and holding the doors for him on the way out.”

  Valerie raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Well, I’ve heard he’ll screw anything with a pulse.”

  Bernadette chimed in, “After what he did for Kasia, I’ve decided I like him.”

  Dylan had been on my mind the past few days. What he did was kind but I wasn’t planning on i
ssuing a personal thank you. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t run into him, Ethan, Matt, or anyone else involved in this mess for the rest of the year. As I listened to Valerie talk about the party at Cooper’s this weekend, I decided that I’d be skipping it. Lay low, at least for now—that sounded like the smartest thing to do.

  Great way to start out my senior year.

  Dylan

  I walked from class to class, to lunch, and across campus looking around with a little more care this week. The campus was big and since I’d never met her in person before, it shouldn’t surprise me that I couldn’t find her now. I’d never even asked Matt her name.

  Girls were plentiful in my life, they came and went and I enjoyed what was there for the taking. For some reason though, this girl had me wanting to track her down. She’d starred in my dreams for the past two nights. The girl on the bed in that picture rolling over to face me, lacing her fingers around my neck and telling me that she wanted me.

  I looked around as I sat down at lunch and then turned my attention towards Brian and Christian. “What’s up?”

  Christian answered, “You know we have to go meet with Coach at four, right?”

  I let out a tired breath. “Yeah, I know. I’m not looking forward to it this season like I have in the past. I just don’t feel particularly into it, you know?”

  “Why is that?”

  “Dunno.” I shrugged. “We won the SEC title last year. It just feels like we did it all already. It’s getting old and I’m busy working on some plans for my dad. My head is already in that world.”

  Brian chuckled, “You always have been quite the businessman.”

  I smiled back at him. “Exactly.”

  Christian was obviously frustrated with me. “Yeah, well as the strongest midfielder on the team, I hope you’re not planning on quitting. And, as for your business, we’ve officially started workouts so you’re going to have to make some changes. Random piss tests will be heading our way before you know it.”

  “Got it.” I wasn’t a dealer per se, just sold to my frat brothers and friends. And I had a conscience about it. I considered myself the Wholesome Foods equivalent of the suppliers. I sold weed and shrooms only; nothing hard, nothing I considered addictive.