One Night Only (Season 1: Deni's Story)

Chapter Ten

Sawyer waits until we're in the car with the engine running to ask what now tops my list of most-dreaded questions. "Are you okay?"

I swipe at the tears in my eyes with the back of my hand before shoving my sunglasses over my eyes. "What do you think?" My reply comes out somewhere between a whisper and a snarl. I don't mean to snap at Sawyer, and I hope he knows that. My anger is for someone else.

"I think I asked a stupid question. I also think I should get you out of here."

I sniffle a couple of times while buckling my seatbelt. "It wasn't a stupid question. Thanks for caring enough to ask."

Sawyer shifts the car into drive and starts to inch it around the driveway's roundabout. He pauses after a moment, seeming to change his mind, and brings the vehicle to a stop.

"Do you need a minute or two?"

He doesn't have to explain why he asks. There's a good chance the paps who followed us here are still waiting outside of the gates, and photos of me appearing upset while leaving Bowie's house are the last thing I want to deal with on top of everything else. The hurricane of tabloid gossip already out there makes me dizzy enough. I won't hand them something else to sensationalize, or give Bowie the satisfaction of knowing he's brought me to tears.

I shut my eyes and concentrate on breathing. Sawyer keeps the car idling in park, giving me time to regain my composure. When my heartbeat slows, I open my eyes again and give him a slight nod. "Okay. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

The car resumes its forward motion. I keep my gaze fixed on the birds of paradise flowers bordering the driveway, then on a squirrel perched on a low-hanging tree branch near the gate. Mostly, I try not to think. Sawyer taps something on the console screen and the car speakers come to life. I immerse myself in the beat of the song playing, and I even manage to fake a smile when we drive past the photographers waiting outside of the gates. A sigh of relief whooshes from my lungs once we're past them and in the clear.

"Do you want to head home, or do you want to go somewhere else? You could humiliate me at mini-golf again if you want."

It's tempting to take Sawyer up on the distraction of mini-golf so I don't have to process what just went down with Bowie, but I'm at high risk for a meltdown. There's also the possibility of paps following Sawyer and me wherever we go, even if I don't see them tailing us yet. My house is probably the safest and most private place I can be right now.

"Home," I answer. "I just want to hide out for a while."

When we're safely inside the gates and parked in front of my house, Sawyer offers to come inside. I would appreciate his help with smuggling me past Mom so she won't detect something is wrong and ask questions, but my deepest desire is to be alone. I decide to take my chances at sneaking inside on my own and say goodbye to him instead. He makes me promise to check in by text later tonight so he knows how I'm doing.

I make as little noise as possible while opening the front door, removing my shoes, and creeping through the foyer. Fortune is finally on my side as I tiptoe up the stairs and make it to my bedroom without encountering Mom. I close the door, not making a sound, then skulk across the floor to my bed. Once there, I curl up under the duvet and pull it over my head to block out the afternoon sunshine. I would block out the world if I could.

As I lie there, memories of the many times I've let Bowie touch me, kiss me, make out with me, and his attempts to persuade me to "go all the way," crowd my mind. So does the image of Portia standing in his bedroom, her bra and an empty condom wrapper on the floor. I can't help wondering if it was the first time they've slept together, or if it's happened before. How many times did he have his hands and lips all over me right after having them all over her?