I had engaged in a bit of oral play with Jase.
Was this my life? A memory of his mouth and his tongue on me, in me, whipped through my brain. I flushed as my heart rate picked up. A different kind of ache filled my breasts, and then dipped much, much lower.
Yep. This was my life.
Turning swiftly, I ignored the fierce slice of pain between my temples and snatched my cell off the nightstand. I didn’t remember putting it there. Jase must’ve gotten it out of my pocket. There were no missed calls from Cam. I assumed Jase had gone back to the frat house and told him that he’d taken me home. And left out a lot of detail.
God, I hoped he did.
As much as I wanted Jase—and I did want him—I didn’t want to cause problems between him and my brother. Huh. Which would make having a relationship in the open difficult.
If we were even going to have a relationship.
There were also no missed calls or texts from Jase.
My stomach twisted, and I dropped the phone on the bed beside me. “I came back to the dorm,” I said finally.
“That much I figured. Did something happen to cause you to leave?”
“No.” I forced a casual shrug and took another drink. “I just wanted to come back.”
“Oh.” She bit down on her lip, and then she took a deep breath. “Erik didn’t say anything to you?”
“No.” I downed the rest of the juice. “Why?” Once I asked the question, I thought it could be because I called him a dick. Guilt rose. “Debbie, I’m sorry for calling him a dick. I just—”
“Don’t apologize.” She waved her hand. “He can be a dick. Anyway, he went to use the bathroom not too long after you’d gone upstairs, and I was worried he said something to you.”
A lock of brown hair slipped out of her hair clip and brushed her forehead. She knocked it away. My mind was whirling, centered on Jase and that wonderful, wicked tongue of his, but I thought of the bruises I’d seen on her legs, and the way Erik talked to her.
I needed to say something to her. Tell her that I knew what it was like. Someone needed to step up because I knew personally that when no one did, it only got worse. My skin burned. It was hard, though. Even now it was difficult telling someone I’d been in a relationship like that. It was more than the guilt and the embarrassment. It was that . . . that fucking fear that never really left, that festered like a rotten wound in the memories.
I averted my gaze to the empty bottle. “Debbie, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She smiled as she tossed the bottle of pills up, catching it. “Ask away.”
Squaring my shoulders, I looked up. “Does . . . does Erik hit you?”
A second or two passed and then she laughed. Too loudly. “What? No. W-why would you even think that?”
I fiddled with the lid on the bottle. “Because he isn’t very nice and—”
“Just because he says ignorant stuff every once in a while doesn’t make him an abuser.” She unfurled her long legs and shot off the bed. Folding her arms, she faced me. Her cheeks were molten. “He doesn’t hit me.”
Denial. God knows I tried that when Mom saw the bruises. Pushing the quilt off me, I swung my legs off the bed. Our gazes locked, and she looked away. I took a shallow breath. “I saw the bruises on your legs.”
All the color drained from her face. “Bruises?” She then glanced down at her jeans. “What?”
“The other day. You were wearing shorts.”
Her brows furrowed as her mouth opened and then snapped shut. “I walked into the side of the bed a few days ago. That’s probably what you saw.”
Then she must’ve repeatedly walked into the bed several times over. I sat the bottle on the nightstand. “Debbie—”
“Look, thank you for being concerned, but there’s nothing to be concerned about.” She grabbed her phone off its charger and picked up a knit cap lying on her narrow bed. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll see you later.”
I pushed to my feet. “I need to talk to you—”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Please. You don’t understand. I’m not trying to upset you or be judgey. I just want you—”
The door slammed shut.
“To know that I know what it feels like,” I muttered to the empty room.
Well, that went over well. Sighing, I plopped back down on the bed. The ache in my temples had decreased, but I felt like a film of grossness was covering my skin. Which was sort of appropriate considering I now felt like a douche canoe after talking to Debbie.
But I knew my suspicions weren’t off.
Gathering up my shower stuff, I headed to the bathroom. While I stood under the steady, hot stream, I replayed last night over in my head. The girl in his room. Me leaving like a lunatic. Jase in the Jeep. The taste of him in my mouth, and then him, his dark head bowed between my legs.