Nothing But The Truth: Chapter 5

Tested Again and Again

Alicia

The Previous Night

“Hey,” I said as I approached a few girls I recognized. I didn’t remember their names, but I knew their faces from last year and this one as well. “How’s it going?”

All five girls stared at me blankly, before one of them, a platinum blonde with angry brown eyes, busted out a sneer. What the hell- 

“Who invited him?” the platinum blonde said, southern twang radiating ire. 

‘Him.’ The word was a prick to my thumbs, a sharp shock of pain that left me bleeding emotion. I flinched, but tried to smooth over my face and not give the girls any ammunition. But I was confused; why was this girl so mad at me?

“Um… Sorry, what-”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, tranny,” she cut me off. “Now shut up and let the actual women talk for a change. Who invited him?”

“Not me,” all four of the other girls said at once, all looking distinctly nervous at their apparent queen bee’s rising irritation. 

“Well I sure as fuck didn’t, so what is he doing here?”

“I-”

“Oh my God, will you shut up for once!” the girl said. Why was she doing this? What the hell had I done to her? 

I wanted to know… But not that badly. I started to back up, but the platinum blonde grabbed me by the forearm and gripped me tight before I could escape. 

“You don’t belong here,” she snapped. “You don’t belong anywhere. And you especially didn’t belong in that class with me, sucking the oxygen out of the room in what’s supposed to be a women-only space! And now you’re here… What, trying to mack on our men? Turn them gay? Is that it?!”

“No, no, I was invited by-”

“Rhetorical question, idiot!” she spat, her grip causing pinprick-bruises to purple on my arm. “Now come on- you are leaving right now so I don’t have to look at your ugly face for a second longer!”

I summoned all my strength and pulled free, dashing through the crowd and out the backdoor. She trailed after me, feet stomping on the hardwood as she walked. Tears welled up in my eyes, running down my face and destroying my makeup in the process, until I was out the door. She kept following me, but I lost her once I hid behind the toolshed.
After that, I was alone with my panic and my tears. 

At least until Caden found me. 

Now

I don’t remember falling asleep. I definitely didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, in Caden’s arms. And yet there I was. He felt nice, embracing me, breathing into my neck, chest rising and falling and heart thumping gently. There was a blanket over us, black and soft, almost ticklish to my sensitive skin. 

He came and found me yesterday. He could’ve done a million different things. Could have humiliated me further. Could have told that bleach blonde bitch where I was. Could have taken pictures. But instead, he picked me back up, took me to his home, cleaned my face, danced with me… It got the gears turning in my brain. The ‘assignment’ was almost certainly to find some girl like me and humiliate her in front of the frat. After all, look what happened when I’d been there all of five minutes unaccompanied. Look at how every guy in the place was at Big Dog’s beck and call. And Caden was horrified by it. It looked like he was in genuine pain when he saw what they were doing to me. 

The way I saw it, there were three possibilities: 

One, Caden legitimately had no idea what was going on. This one seemed unlikely because frankly he didn’t come across as quite that stupid. A little stupid? Sure. But I wasn’t exactly one to judge given my own history of questionable decision-making.

Two, Caden knew what was going on, and everything he was doing was part of an elaborate plot to get me to trust him implicitly, to make it so I was entirely too willing to have the wool pulled over my eyes while he offered me up as a sacrifice for his own career. It was possible, but to do something like that, he’d have to be a complete and utter sociopath. And not the real kind of sociopath, who are usually just violent idiots without tact or self-control, but a movie sociopath, an intelligent, megalomaniacal mastermind capable of working people like puppets on his strings and lying without flinching. And that didn’t seem likely because frankly, Caden ‘the Cad’ Monroe was a shit liar. His face twitched and he stuttered and generally looked like he was five minutes from a mental breakdown when he tried. 

That left possibility number three: he knew, and he wasn’t happy about it. He was getting eaten alive with guilt, but was too desperate and too scared and in too deep to back out. The sheer force of personality Big Dog had presented last night made this one seem the most likely. And if he felt guilty, and was being super nice to me, taking care of me, sweet-talking me, that would indicate… That suggested… That alluded to the slim chance that he… 

That he actually liked me. Or that, at the very least, there was a spark here between us, and he wanted to nurture it, let it grow into a proper fire. 

I didn’t know for sure. But still… If there was even a possibility that he didn’t want to do what he was doing… Was using him like this okay? Was it ethical? Especially when… When I had to admit, I liked the possibility. I liked it a lot. 

More information. I needed it. 

That was when I registered his phone sitting on the coffee table right in front of me. And I knew the passcode. And it was within reach, so I could potentially look through it without waking him up. 

That was wrong. But it was also wrong to let him suffer silently while he did something that would make him hate himself forever. If it was within my power to get him out of this situation, to help him, fix this for him, then I had to try. With greatest journalistic power came great journalistic responsibility, after all. 

Icy self-loathing flooded my veins as I reached for his phone and entered the passcode. I pulled up his messages, and found Big Dog’s contact information. 

I scrolled back up, and found… Everything I needed to know. 

Big Dog had spent the day we met pestering Caden to ‘fulfill his assignment,’ threatening to do it himself if Caden wouldn’t, constantly referencing some kind of mistake he’d made last year that he was still paying for. So what was it, then? What did Randal ‘Big Dog’ Parker have on Caden, and how did it relate to the toxic manosphere control freak environment Randal had cultivated within the frat? And moreover-

“Why are you looking through my phone?” Caden said, his chin on my shoulder, voice fighting back a yawn. 

I clicked the home button instantly, shoving away the information I’d catalogued. “This is your phone? I thought it was my phone.”

“What?” he said, clearly still half asleep. Okay, good, he might not have known what I was looking at. Might not have registered it all the way. 

“I, uh, you know, I woke up and wanted to check my messages and apps and what not, do the obligatory early morning doom-scrolling, so I reached for the nearest phone thinking it was mine since I always keep it right next to my bed,” I said. Nailed it! I thought. 

“But I have a different passcode than you,” he pointed out. 

I craned my neck to face him, and gave my best giggle and smile and bimbo voice. “Oh, you know, I did find that a bit strange. But uh, you know, early morning brain fog. You know?”

“You say ‘you know’ a lot,” Caden said. “Also, you’re actually here, right? This isn’t a dream?”

“It’s not a… You dream about me?”

“I mean not yet, but I’ve been thinking about you nonstop for three days, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I started,” Caden said. “It would’ve been a nice change of pace. I usually have nightmares.”

“What… What kind of nightmares?”

“I have this recurring series of dreams where people I know murder me.”

… Um… What?! “That’s… That’s-”

“It is what it is,” he shrugged. “I need some proof you’re actually here, though.”

“What kind of proof?”

“Lemme feel you?”

My eyebrows shot up, and I gulped as images played inside my mind of his hands on my breasts, his lips on my neck, his fingers reaching below my waistline-

He pressed his forehead to mine. “There you are. Definitely not a nightmare.”

He was so damn warm, and so was I, and… This felt nice. Peaceful. Like there was no world outside of the two of us, and that was just how I wanted it. I wanted this to be real. There was no way it was, no way it could be, but playing pretend felt damn good. 

“Thank you for letting me stay the night,” I whispered. 

“Any time,” he said. “Sorry last night sucked.”

“It’s… It’s not your fault,” I said, early morning light sneaking through the blinds over the windows. His eyes, his face, all of him really: so damn sparkly. I had a feeling it wasn’t his fault. But I needed to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt if I wanted to loop him in on what I was doing. 

He would be mad. I couldn’t blame him for that. But if he wasn’t a bad person after all, then it would be the right thing to do. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“Well, judging by the fact that it’s sunrise, I’m guessing before seven.”

“I want to know exactly.”

“You like things to be precise, don’t you?”

“I… Prefer them that way. I don’t need them to be, but it’s easier when they are.”

“Well, it’s…,” I checked his phone, “6:37.”

“Okay, good. Got plenty of time.”

“For what?”

“We can stay like this a little longer,” Caden said, hugging me tight as dawn poured over us. The still Saturday morning air allowed us to enjoy the peace and quiet. 

“That is good,” I said. 

He was gonna be mad. Granted, even if he hadn’t wanted to do this, he’d still rushed the frat in the first place, but… But maybe he didn’t know better? Maybe he was being coerced? I didn’t want to believe that this sweet, gentle, clearly broken boy actually wanted any of this. It was even harder to believe than the idea that he wanted me, of all people.

I didn’t have to figure it out right there and then, though. For now, I could just… Enjoy this. Enjoy him. While we were sequestered from all the bullshit that was happening in the rest of the world, both in our own little lives and more broadly amidst the national and global chaos. We could pretend it was okay. And we could pretend together. 

It was a nice feeling. So I let myself have it. And I let him have it too. 

I stayed in his arms, our foreheads pressed together, for a little under an hour before an alarm beeped on his phone. 

Caden groaned as he pulled himself away from me. I groaned back… Well, it was more of a whine, but you get the idea. “Whyyyy?”

“I got stuff to do before work.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Work out, meditate, make breakfast,” Caden said. 

“You’re gonna go punch stuff?”

“Heh. Yeah. I’m gonna go punch stuff.”’

I flashed back to the previous night, when I’d been stuck in the grip of someone who, for reasons I wasn’t even sure of, harbored legitimate malice towards me. I never wanted to feel that helpless, that terrified, again. “Will you show me how to punch stuff?”

He stood up, looking at me with fleeting skepticism, but then nodded. “Let’s get changed.”

He let me do so in the bathroom after tossing me a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt. A few minutes later, we were in the garage, standing in front of the heavy bag while he put some old emo music on his phone speakers. 

He was wearing a shirt. Unfortunately. Having sampled the goods already, I was definitely disappointed by that. But alas. 

“So, have you ever boxed before?” Caden asked. 

I shook my head. “Never even been in a fistfight.”

“Well, I’m obligated to start by saying ‘hopefully you never have to’, but also the world sucks so you’ll probably need to at some point. I’ll start by showing you a proper stance. C’mere.”

I stood in front of him, and he put his hands on my hips and guided my legs into a fighting stance. “You’re a southpaw, yeah?” he asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Cool. So, you’ll wanna keep your left hand pulled back, and your right up by your face in a guard position.” He held my forearm and in place, helping me raise it, his skin on mine as he gathered my fingers into a fist. He did the same with my right hand, positioning it in front of my head. “Now, it’s all in the hips when it comes to punching. You wanna jab with your guard-hand, and straight with your dominant one. Give it a shot. Oh, and you’ll need these.”

He took a pair of boxing gloves from a rack and fastened them to my hands, looking downright bashful as he did so. His smile, his posture, his whole energy shifted when he was here. This must’ve been him in his element. It was more than a way to stay in shape, blow off steam; this was something that gave him real joy. 

He got out of the way, and left me in front of the bag. 

“Now, then,” he said. “Let’s see a jab. Don’t forget to use your hips.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I smirked as I wound up a punch and released it into the bag. My heart rate tripled, and the impact shook me through my bones. 

“You’re telegraphing too much. Don’t wind up a punch- that’s for show fighting, not real fighting,” Caden said. “Really lean into it, but don’t overextend. Now. Jab again.”

I kept my guard-hand in position, swerving my hips more as I delivered the jab. It impacted, and the blow took less out of me while making the bag shake a bit more than it had last time.

“Excellent!” Caden said. “Now show me a straight.”

I sent my left hand flying, turning my hips from the opposite side. The blow to the bag came with a burst of dopamine in my brain, and I smiled as I delivered a jab alongside it. 

“This feels good,” I said. 

“Fuck yeah, it does. And don’t be afraid to dance a little- jump around, keep moving. In a fight, you don’t wanna be an easy target.”

“You know an awful lot about this,” I said as I started to move around the cement floor of the garage, up and down on the balls of my feet. “You been at this a long time?”

“Seven years,” he said. “It was a little after I came to live with Kira. I… It felt like a prudent thing to do. I took lessons on weekends and joined the wrestling team at my school.”

“Damn, you’re a real warrior, aren’t you?”

“No,” Caden shook his head. “I just like to be able to protect myself. And other people, when need be. And I’m not an expert at either. But basic striking and grappling will help with basically anyone who has less experience in one or both.”

“Like me?”

“Well yeah, but I’d never wanna fight you.”

I delivered another series of jabs and straights to the bag, my breathing growing haggard. God, I was so out of shape, it was sad. “Oh? Won’t hit a girl?”

“I’m… I’m not crazy about the idea, no.”

“What if she hurt you?”

“Then I’d consider it.”

I stopped, gasping for breath after a fresh flurry of punches. “Fuck, this is exhausting. How long do you do this for?”

“Thirty minutes a day.”

“Holy shit! And do you still wrestle?”

“It’s harder to practice grappling solo, so not really. I’m probably out of practice. Now, go to town on that bag for thirty more seconds, then take a break while I have a turn.”

“But I’m tired!”

“Do you want to be able to protect yourself or not?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

I flinched, then I remembered the bleach blonde, her face, her grip. I looked at the bruises on my flabby forearm, and I didn’t want to see any more of them. 

So I nodded, then I let loose. I screamed while I punched, landing my gloved fists against the sandbag over and over again as my limbs grew heavier and my pulse more frantic. Once again, I found myself losing track of time, so I was shocked when Caden told me to stop. 

My arms went limp and sweat poured off of my brow and down my back. “Holy shit. Holy shit, that’s exhausting.”

“It gets easier,” he shrugged. “Most things do, if you keep at them.”

I wondered if that was true in other parts of his life. I wondered if it would get easier the more I used him. I wondered if I wanted it to. 

“My turn,” he said, taking off his shirt and tossing it at me. I held it to my face to avoid showing how badly I was blushing. 

I peeked out from over the shirt… And I watched him go to town on the heavy bag. He moved around it with the kind of grace I’d attempted when dancing last night, his strikes and jabs and uppercuts and crosses landing in rapid succession as he completed circuit after circuit around the bag. He was an artist at work, blows landing and immediately followed up on, confident and daring and fluid. He dodged blows that weren’t there and hammered the bag with precision and style. He was silent as he worked, his eyes wide and his breathing deliberate. Sweat began to glisten on his skin, hair dampening the more he moved, proverbial aura radiating passionate fury. Like he was finally letting his emotions off the leash, and everything was coming pouring out all at once. 

My nipples got hard as I watched him, my eyes darting to track his every movement, picturing him doing this to someone, picturing him… Defending me with his might. Pictured him pinning me down and locking me in position while he-

He stopped. His face looked contented, if not necessarily happy. 

He took off his gloves, and said, “Shirt?”

“Right, right!” I said nervously, handing it to him while he dabbed at his sweaty face and body. “Actually, why don’t you let me do that?”

“Uh-”

I snatched the shirt out of his hands and gave it a sniff, then started cleaning him off, hands on his hot skin, drinking in his scent and letting it increase the happy-chemicals saturating my brain. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ears, and he let himself smile a little bit. “Like what you see?”

“I’ll be honest, that was really hot.”

“I had the same thought when I was watching you,” he smirked. 

“Oh, please-”

“No, really, I did. Speaking of which… I believe it’s your turn.” 

I giggled, but stopped when he handed me the gloves again. Then I nodded, and went back at it until I felt ready to collapse. We kept taking turns, switching off, drying each other off with his shirt and its delicious boy-smell. When it was over, I was exhausted and soaking wet and ready to collapse, and at the same time… I’d never felt more catharsis in my life. And I struggled to remember the last time I’d been this aroused. 

Ugh. Stupid beautiful boy doing sexy violence. 

He let me shower first, then when it was over, breakfast was already waiting for me. 

I waited for him, and as we ate together, I asked, “So, you’ve got work?”

“Yeah,” he nodded over his breakfast burrito. “You?”

“Same, actually. I’m opening up the comic shop in… Two hours.”

“After that?” he asked. 

Now would be a great time to bail out, try to do some more reconnaissance about the frat. 

But at the same time… Maybe there was more information I could coax out of him. 

“I got nothing going on after my shift ends at eight.”

“Okay,” he said. “Wanna go somewhere, or-”

“It’s… Not super safe for me in certain parts of the city,” I said. “So it would have to be somewhere low-key. But maybe we could go to the sushi place near the shop?”

“Works for me,” Caden said. “I can get Kira to drop me off, then maybe we uber back to campus and I walk home?”

“No, I was thinking I would stay here again tonight.”

He blushed. God, but that was adorable. “You must really like sleeping on my couch.”

“It’s a nice couch,” I said, taking a slow, careful bite of my burrito, reminding myself not to do that thing I’d always used to do where I shoveled food down my gullet like a starving cavewoman. “And like… My roommate is constantly bringing girls back to our dorm. It’s hard to get any sleep.”

He blushed even redder. 

“God, it’s cute when you do that,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. 

“I- uh- I…”

“I can crash somewhere else if you’d prefer-”

“No, no you can stay here. Kira is at Aimee’s tonight anyway. Besides, this is good. We can keep getting to know each other this way.”

“That we can,” I smiled. And I needed to know everything that I could before I made my decision about him, about my article, and about how I fit into all this.