AN: I'm very aware - and annoyed - that I haven't been able to update WWYRT as often as CYSM, but I was on track to have this posted within a week of Chapter 10 and then I got sick and it threw me off completely. So, my sincere apologies for this even more ridiculously late than usual update. I hope it was worth the wait. I'm actually very anxious to hear if it was. ;p

Chapter 11

For someone smaller and far more intoxicated, Naomi's grip on Liam was ironclad. She pressed her lips to his, oblivious to the lack of response. Or maybe she just didn't care. Liam was too busy cursing his stupidity at that point to worry much about the why. Somehow, he'd been surprised by the kiss, even though the move – the entire set up – had been classic Naomi. That flash of fear and disorientation had been real and he'd allowed his curiosity to overrule his instincts. Shaking off the shock, he reached for the hands locked behind his head and pulled away.

"Naomi, stop," he managed before his determined ex captured his mouth yet again. Prying her fingers apart took more effort than he expected. Finally, he gave up on being gentle and clamped his hands around her thin wrists and tugged. "Seriously. Naomi. This is not gonna happen."

"Oh come on," she purred, gazing up at him, her eyes lazy slits as her lips curved seductively. "You must be dying for someone to give you what you need. Annie sure as hell wouldn't know what to do with a guy like you."

"God, you just can't quit the games, can you," he accused, not waiting for her response as his precarious grip on his temper faltered. "Playing nice at school, the invite to the party, all of it was just a lie to fuck with Annie again."

"No, Liam, Annie's definitely not the one I want to fuck," Naomi teased, leaning in for another kiss. Still holding her wrists, he took an abrupt step back and let go. Without his body to support her, his ex crumpled to the carpeted floor in an ungraceful heap.

"I knew you would do this," he muttered, more disgusted with himself than anything else. Traces of sticky lip gloss clung to his mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "I fucking knew your promise to leave Annie alone was bullshit."

Naomi scoffed from her spot on the floor. "Then why'd you come tonight?"

"Because Annie wanted to. She believed there was a chance you weren't being a manipulative bitch," he ground out through clenched teeth.

An electric silence fell upon the room, magnifying the sounds of his labored breathing and the thunderous beat of his heart. Then Naomi raised her head, eyes red she offered him a scathing, mirthless smile. "Her mistake."

Liam choked back his rage. "I knew you'd never change."

"Change? I need to change? She stole my boyfriend. Again," Naomi cried indignantly, fire coloring her voice even if it didn't reach her eyes.

"Annie didn't steal anything," Liam vowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. The confrontation had been on the horizon, taunting him, since the second he kissed Annie that night on the beach. If their relationship had any hope of survival, there was no escaping it. Naomi would never like it, but she had to accept it. "You lost me a long time ago with all your lies and manipulation-."

"My lies? My manipulation?" Naomi clambered to her feet and advanced on him, letting the full power of her anger shine. "What about you? I know you were spending time with her behind my back. How many times did you confide in her when you should have been confiding in me? Don't try to tell me nothing happened until we broke up."

"Nothing did," he replied, all the more vehement because he knew it wasn't entirely the truth. "I worked my ass off to get you back. I changed-."

"Oh, that's right, you changed. Liam Court had a fucking epiphany in the forest and came back with a halo," Naomi scoffed and rolled her eyes, on a roll now and unwilling to let him speak until she'd said her piece. "Well, good for you. I'm sorry I didn't have one, too. I'm sorry I'm still a bitch and a liar and not perfect like you and your precious Annie. But mostly I'm sorry you broke up with me and I went to that party alone. Maybe if you'd been there I wouldn't have been raped!"

As soon as the words passed her lips, Naomi's diatribe abruptly ended and she sucked in a gasp of shock. The self-serving rant had flowed over Liam, half heard like so many others until the end. The angry rush of blood in his veins froze instantly and he stared at her. Hard. "What did you just say?"

"N-nothing," she stammered, dropping her gaze and turning away. Eventually, halting steps brought her back to the four poster bed. Curling her hand around the post, she sank slowly to the mattress, grabbing the bedraggled satin comforter and pulling it over her lap.

"I don't think it is," he disagreed, crossing his arms and warily drawing closer. The flash of fear, the disorientation that was more than too much alcohol fell sickeningly into place. "I think if it were nothing you wouldn't be afraid to say it."

"You're not going to believe me anyway, so why bother? All I do is play games, right?" Naomi challenged him now with a hint of her former indignation. "I lied about Cannon sexually harassing me, so there's no way I could be telling the truth about him raping me the night of the Pass the Torch party."

Liam closed his eyes as all the air left his lungs. Words utterly failed him. Part of him stubbornly refused to believe her, but the pieces continued to fall into place. Naomi's generic Facebook post declaring her sudden trip to Europe had gone up the day after the party. Only something truly catastrophic would have brought the Clark sisters back together for coffee, let alone an entire summer overseas. When Kyle leapt onto the bed and touched her she'd been truly afraid. Hell, just the fact that he had to pry the story out of her spoke toward its truth.

If he hadn't broken up with her that day, he would have been there. "Jesus Christ."

"No one knows," Naomi said, clutching the comforter so tightly her knuckles were white. "You can't tell anyone."

"What happened?" he asked automatically, not caring at the moment if he had a right to know or not.

She squeezed her eyes shut and for a second Liam thought she wouldn't answer. Then her shoulders slumped and he had to listen closely to hear. "I didn't have a ride home. Silver and Teddy made up, so I went into the school to find a phone because my cell died. Mr. Cannon…he was there working on…on his film."

She told the story using simple words, each one laced with pain. There was no elaboration, no dramatics and by the time she reached the part where Cannon closed the blinds and pointed out all the reasons no one would ever believe her if she talked, Liam's doubts were gone. His anger disappeared and he momentarily forgot Annie as numbness swept over him. The sheer enormity of Naomi's confession contrasted starkly with the blunt, unvarnished truth. "When he was done, I left."

He said nothing and silence filled the room while self-recrimination filled his head. What had he been doing while Cannon had Naomi trapped in his office? What had been more important than protecting his girlfriend from a man who was ironically everything she'd falsely accused him of being? Even as the thought spiraled accusingly through his head, pummeling his guilty conscience, he felt like a hypocrite. He knew exactly what he'd been doing that night and Naomi hadn't been his girlfriend anymore. If he hadn't been holding Annie while she cried out the truth about the hit and run he'd probably be at a military school in Maine right now, dreaming about a girl he'd almost had the chance to love. He couldn't regret it if he wanted to, but Naomi had still paid the price.

He wanted to ask why she hadn't gone to the police, but the question was stupid. He knew why, just like he now understood why she'd moved back in with her sister. "Jen knows, doesn't she."

Naomi nodded, brushing away tears that fell despite her detachment. "She is-was the only one."

"You gotta go to the cops," he insisted regardless of the futility of the statement. He couldn't help it. Cannon shouldn't be roaming free at West Bev, making Naomi's life hell with his very presence and probably picking out his next victim. Anger surged back to the surface. "You were right. That guy's a monster."

"No," Naomi protested vehemently. For the first time since she began her story, she looked directly at him. Determination flashed dully beneath the raw pain in her eyes. "There's no point. No one would believe me."

"I believe you!" he cried, although he knew that wouldn't matter. He'd backed her on the sexual harassment charge, too. Even without that misguided defense, his word wasn't worth much to anyone in a position of authority.

"Liam, no!" she cried, rising from the bed and crossing the room. She wrapped her arms tightly around her trembling body. He didn't know if it was due to cold or emotion. "I have no proof. It's my word against his and I just want to put it behind me. So just…just go. Forget any of this ever happened. I'm sorry I dragged you down here."

Liam didn't want to go, he wanted to argue with her until she gave in and set the cops after Cannon, but he knew she was right. Perhaps better than anybody else, he understood how blind justice really was. Telling him had nearly sent her into hysterics and he was…well, friend wasn't the right word, but at least she knew him. Forcing her to tell her story again and again to countless strangers felt more like punishment than help.

Overwhelmed and useless, he looked around the room and sighed heavily, trying to expel the tightness in his chest. A flash of pink caught his eye. Her dress was in a crumpled ball at the foot of the bed, discarded by the football player who'd draped it over his shoulders like a medal. Silently, he picked it up and held it out to her. As she hesitantly took it, he asked. "Why did you?"

"I wanted you back," she replied with a self-deprecating smile to offset the flush of humiliation that flushed her skin. "I convinced myself if I made everything like it was before the rape, I could be that girl again. But that's not happening, is it."

Naomi didn't phrase it as a question, but a tiny spark of hope within it shredded Liam and made him wish he could tell her otherwise. "No, it's not."

She nodded, clutching the dress to her chest as she stared at the floor. Conceding defeat, he moved to the door. Hand on the knob he paused and offered her the only thing he could. "I'll keep your secret. I won't tell anybody."

"Thank you," she murmured, glancing at him briefly as he left the ransacked guestroom. The hallway had felt miles long when he rushed down it an hour ago. Now he came to the end far too quickly. The frivolity of the party was magnified by what he'd learned and seemed so much more ridiculous. He wanted to find Annie and get the hell out of there.

Pushing his way through the oblivious crowd, Liam wrestled with the realization that he was going to willfully lie to his girlfriend. Granted at the moment, Naomi's rape wasn't the only thing he was keeping from Annie. He still hadn't found a good time to mention the grand he'd pocketed from the street race the other night. She'd been busy with her internship and a 'hey, by the way, I returned to my old ways and won a thousand bucks in an illegal race' between classes hadn't felt right. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he was nervous about coming clean to Annie. He knew how she felt about the guy he was when he first came to Beverly Hills and reminding her of it didn't seem like a brilliant plan.

Searching the house and the outdoor pool area didn't take long. Annie, and for that matter Silver and Teddy, were nowhere to be found. Liam pulled his cell out of his back pocket. Annie's phone went straight to voice mail and he ended the call without leaving a message. Just when he thought the night couldn't possibly suck any harder. He caught sight of Ivy by the low, leather couches and made his way to her.

"Hey, have you seen Annie?" he asked without greeting the second he was within earshot.

"Well, hello to you, too," she raised a brow. Something in his expression kept her from harassing him further. She shrugged. "Yeah, I saw her. Like, an hour ago. We hung out for a minute and then she went to look for you, I thought."

"Yeah, and I must have been looking for her," he muttered, scanning the crowd for the fifth time and bringing his cell to his ear. The brunette who'd fed him the bullshit story about Annie and Naomi fighting ducked into the shadows leading to the back bedrooms. Liam frowned, as she disappeared from sight. A thought nagged at him, begging him to make a connection, but it faded away when Annie's phone went straight to voicemail yet again. This time, he left a message. "Hey, it's me…"

For a long time after Liam left, Naomi sat huddled on the edge of bed, forehead resting against knees drawn tight to her chest. Confessing the truth had shredded the defenses she'd so proudly and intricately constructed, leaving her raw and exposed in a way she hadn't been since the rape. She still didn't know what had compelled her to tell Liam of all people her secret and her brain hurt from trying to figure it out. She couldn't even contemplate the notion that he wouldn't keep her secret. He had to. If anyone found out… she shuddered at the thought.

Gradually, awareness extended beyond the confines of Naomi's mind. The slippery satin of the rumpled sheets were cold against her bare skin. Sounds from the party drifted down the darkened hallway and her ears pricked at the indistinct cacophony of voices. Blinking in the bright light, she raised her head and looked around. How long had she been there? Hours, probably, taking into account the time it took to assemble her audience, lure Liam to the guest room and completely ruin her carefully laid plans in one giant rush of fear and desperation. Groaning, she brought her hands to her face, surprised to find them wet with tears she hadn't known she'd shed.

The dress she'd so seductively stripped from her body was crumpled in a ball now on the bed next to her hip. Absently, she grabbed it as she gingerly put her feet on the thick carpet and stood on legs made of rubber. Naomi couldn't remember the last time she'd felt self-conscious in her own skin. Underwear covered just as much as a bathing suit, after all. Now, she was in such a hurry to get dressed, she nearly ran into a wall and earned a black eye on top of copious humiliation. With painstaking effort, she slowed down enough to get the sheath dress over her head. The hem ended an inch shy of mid-thigh and she had the unfamiliar desire to tug it past her knees.

On autopilot now, Naomi stumbled into the bathroom and fumbled for the light switch. Soft, warm light – a near perfect imitation of natural; Jen had spared no expense, even in the guest room – reflected off shiny chrome and polished marble surfaces and wrapped around her. The cloying embrace made her gag. Naomi wanted cold. Soulless, empty ice that could stop her racing heart and soothe her fevered flesh. Gripping the edge of the sink, she twisted the tap all the way to the right and scooped up great handfuls of water. Heedless of her dress, ruined hair or the remnants of her makeup, she splashed it on her face over and over until her fingers were frozen and her already aching head throbbed from the temperature.

Switching off the faucet, Naomi lifted her dripping face to the mirror. After everything that had happened, she expected a monster. Blotchy skin, puffy eyes, hair ruined beyond repair. To her surprise, her hair was merely rumpled, her skin a little too pale devoid of makeup. It was as if her outer appearance had decided to counteract her inner turmoil. Drawing a shaky breath, she twisted the tap again and ran damp fingers through her slightly frizzy curls that had relaxed and settled into tousled waves. For the next several minutes, she was able to focus on reapplying eyeliner, mascara and a dusting of bronzer. She was just putting the finishing touches on her lip gloss when Stephanie suddenly appeared in the mirror behind her.

"I am in awe," she said, obviously drunk now and all the more worse for wear because of it. Her no doubt expensive tan looked orange, her face red and shiny, and her foundation long since melted off in the heat of the party. Naomi stared at her, coated her lips once more with gloss and snapped the tube shut.

"Really," she replied, deliberately enigmatic as she trusted her voice with little else.

"Yes, really," Stephanie insisted, traipsing further into the bathroom. The spiky heels of her stilettos clicked dully against the Italian tiles. "I knew if anybody could pull this off it would be you, but…honestly I didn't think you'd do it."

Naomi raised a brow, her pulse quickening. "It didn't exactly go as planned."

"Tell that to Liam and Annie," Stephanie laughed and joined her at the mirror. A brief flash of vain horror washed over her face as she took in her reflection. Setting down the martini glass that had been glued to her hand all night, she rummaged in her purse and began repairing her look. "Come on, don't be modest. I know a thing or two about betrayal and if the look on Annie's face is any clue, you and Liam gave her quite a show."

Several questions fluttered through Naomi's mind. Stephanie's comment about betrayal hinted at a bigger story. A real friend would want to know more and dig deeper, but Naomi couldn't see past Annie. "What do you think she saw?"

"I didn't ask, but she wasn't down here more than a couple minutes," she explained, expertly repairing her look, the slight swaying that hinted at the number of drinks she'd consumed barely noticeable. "When she came back, she went right to Silver and Teddy and they were outta here in two seconds."

Naomi stared at Stephanie in the mirror with new eyes and something close to awe. Had her partner in crime really timed it so perfectly that Annie saw the exact moment she kissed Liam…and then ran? The corners of her lips quirked ever so slightly in the ghost of a smile. The crushing weight of failure eased slightly and she squared her shoulders. "What about Liam?"

"Oh, about any second now he's going to realize she's gone," Stephanie replied, her words coming between swipes of dark wine colored gloss. Tossing the tube back in her purse, she surveyed the repair work. Apparently satisfied – and Naomi had to admit, she looked perfectly put together once again – she propped a hand on her hip and raised a brow in the mirror. "And probably run out of here like the whipped little boy he is. Unless you stop him."

Naomi turned away from the mirror and bit her lip in concentration. The plan had been to play on Liam's temper and possessive streak which had worked even better than expected thanks to her freak out. Even now her stomach turned at the memory. She could still feel Kyle's hand on her arm, like he'd left her with an invisible brand. Her mind worked, a new strategy unfolding as naturally to her as breathing. If Kyle was still here, she could easily track Liam down and oh so reluctantly ask her ex to remove the jocks from the premises. Say they were making her nervous the way they were looking at her. With memories of the rape so close to the surface, even innocent glances felt like leers of a predator. Liam would do it, too. In a heartbeat. The look on his face when she'd demanded he keep her secret had told her as much. Even if they weren't together anymore, doing nothing in light of what he'd learned was killing him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized confiding in Liam about the rape should have been her plan from the beginning. Reeling him in now would be so easy.

Or would it? The kiss they'd shared had been completely one sided. Naomi knew the only reason it lasted as long as it did was because she had caught him off guard. Whatever feelings Liam had left for her didn't involve romance or even attraction. The rejection might have cut more deeply if she'd felt anything at all when their lips met, but in truth touching him, pressing her nearly naked form against his familiar body had been mechanical, even foreign. It scared her. Sex had always been something she'd enjoyed and excelled at and now she felt nothing but numb. If it had been anybody but Liam, she probably would have recoiled in disgust. Apparently Cannon had taken that from her as well.

Fighting the wave of revulsion – both at thoughts of Cannon and the idea of using her rape as a tool – Naomi returned her gaze to the mirror and made sure her smile conveyed confidence. "I think I've done enough damage tonight. If I know Annie, she'll do the rest."

In the backseat of Teddy's convertible, Annie silently counted the lights lining the residential, then commercial, then residential streets of Beverly Hills. The steady pattern of light, then dark was a poor distraction, but at least it was something to keep her occupied. Predictably at first, Silver had pried for more details in her usual blunt way, but Annie refused to talk. She knew if she so much as uttered Liam's name her tenuous grip on her emotions would shatter and she was saving that for the privacy of her bedroom. Alone. So, she kept her face neutral and stared the landscape passing by in a blur.

Thoughts were more difficult to control than words. A stubborn, relentless part of her brain didn't believe that what she'd seen was real. It wanted to dissect the moment in horrific detail for a flaw or some kind of proof that she hadn't really seen Liam making out with a practically naked Naomi. By the time Teddy pulled into her driveway she nearly cried with relief.

Mumbling her thanks for the ride, Annie climbed out of the convertible, heedless of her stupidly short dress in her haste to reach the sanctuary of the house. Still barefoot, the cement was warm and smooth beneath her feet and she ran to the door in a vain attempt to get inside before she broke.

"Annie, wait," Silver called, the sound of a car door opening and closing a sure sign that her friend wasn't willing to let her escape quietly.

"I'm fine," she forced the blatant and pointless lie through tightly clenched teeth. "I just…want to get out of this stupid dress and go to bed."

"That sounds like a plan," Silver said, a little breathlessly as she caught up with Annie at the door. "I'll keep you company."

"I don't want-."

"I don't care," she declared without hesitation. "Your house is dark. I know your mom isn't home and Dixon is still at the party. I'm not leaving you alone."

Annie glared at her as she unlocked the front door and stomped over the threshold. "Why? You think I'm so emotionally unstable I can't be trusted alone?"

"No," Silver calmly closed and relocked the door. "But I'm your friend. You can pretend you're mad and maybe you are, but I know you, Annie. Your heart's breaking."

The simple and wholly accurate description nearly ripped her apart. Focusing on her misdirected anger, she turned her back on Silver and took the stairs two at a time. "I just want to be alone."

"Too bad," her friend sighed, following her to the landing. The other girl's longer stride ate up the distance between them and before Annie could close and lock her bedroom door, Silver slipped through. She said nothing as Annie threw her shoes angrily toward her open closet and paced mindlessly over the carpet. Her grip was slipping. Any second now she'd have to let go.

"Okay, I'm not fine," she admitted, slumping on the edge of the bed. Keeping her breath shallow, she blinked furiously at the tears gathering in her eyes. "But really, you don't need to stay and watch me lose it."

"It's part of the job," Silver pointed out with a wan smile. "Best friends and all. You'd do the same for me."

Her cell phone rang before Annie was forced to reply and she gratefully used the moment to swallow the lump in her throat. Silver fumbled in her bag and frowned at the caller ID. "Oh, great. It's um, it's Liam."

Annie's stomach twisted violently and she shook her head. "I turned off my phone. I don't want to talk to him."

Silver shot her an inscrutable look and pressed a button. Her voice was neutral when she answered. "Hey…yeah, yeah I know where she is. Uh, she's at home…Because I'm with her, how do you think I know? No, I don't think that's a good idea. She's um…she got sick and uh, Teddy and I took home."

Feeling like a coward, but not caring, Annie grabbed her robe and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. She couldn't talk to him. Not now. The idea made her want to throw up. The shred of self-confidence that had fought so hard against Jasper's predictions and the idea that Liam would ever cheat on her screamed at her to turn around. He deserved a chance to explain. She deserved to hear it. After everything they'd been through, that part of her balked against the idea of throwing it away over what could be a misunderstanding.

Annie's leaden feet didn't change course, however and without hesitation she locked the bathroom door behind her. The image of Liam and Naomi kissing burned into her brain overruled everything else. Mechanically, she stripped off her dress and slipped into the fluffy purple robe. There was absolutely nothing sexy about it, but she felt safe in it, comforted. Quickly, she washed her face, avoiding the mirror and her no doubt frumpy reflection. The last thing she needed was yet another reminder of the differences between her and Naomi.

She yanked the pins out of her messy updo, tearing at her hair but not caring. The flashes of pain were an all too brief distraction. Suddenly exhausted, her emotions teetering on the brink, she made her way back to her bedroom. The house was silent. Relieved, Annie pushed over her half closed door to find Silver staring out the window, tapping her cell against her chin absently.

"So, what did he say?" she asked, unable to reign in her curiosity. "Did he believe you?"

She snorted indelicately and shook her head. "I doubt it. He wanted to come over."

"He's done with Naomi already?" Annie asked with blatant bitterness.

"Yeah, Naomi didn't come up," Silver responded. "He was worried about you."

"Why?" Annie asked as tears filled her eyes and colored her voice. "He wasn't worried about me when he was kissing his ex girlfriend."

Her friend turned away from the window, her expression filled with compassion that made it harder for Annie to fight the tears. Silver's heels made no sound on the carpet as she joined her at the foot of the bed. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, but in true Silver fashion plunged ahead regardless. "Annie, are you sure of what you saw? I mean, really sure? It just doesn't make sense-."

"They were in a bedroom," Annie interrupted. "The sheets on the bed were all messed up and Naomi's dress was on the floor. Liam had…he had his arms around her and he…they kissed. I didn't stick around to see if that was the opening act or the encore."

Silver said nothing for a moment and Annie thought she'd have to explain it all over again. Finally, she groaned and glared at the ceiling. "I'm gonna kill him. I told him not to…he promised me he wouldn't hurt you and now… you know what? I'm going to kill Naomi, too. I knew that bitch was lying about being okay with this. I knew it."

"Silver, stop," she sobbed. Silver's anger on her behalf dissolved the part of Annie that still clung to hope. Silver was the closest thing she had to an objective observer and if she believed it, then it really was true. Liam really had kissed Naomi and maybe worse. Probably worse. Annie's knees gave and she sank to the edge of the bed as the tears fell harder and faster.

Immediately, Silver was at Annie's side, wrapping her arms around her and murmuring unintelligible words of comfort. Annie buried her face in her hands as her heart broke over and over again. She wanted to thank her friend for staying despite her protests, but she couldn't get anything out around the body wracking sobs. The only silver lining to the whole wretched night, she realized through her tears, was that she didn't have to go through it alone.