“So, Axelle, how’s this semester treating you?” Theo, Ryder’s friend and band mate, pushes back his shaggy hair to reveal his piercing blue eyes.
“Great. You were right about History of World Religions. It’s a lot more entertaining than I thought it’d be.” Theo told me last semester that Professor Conway had a sexual analogy for everything. He wasn’t kidding.
He laughs. “Because the emergence of Eastern Religion was like gently prying open the dew-soaked petals of a flower, like…”
“Foreplay!” We say in unison.
“Shots!” Mindy hands me another Solo cup, this one filled with clear liquid that burns my nose.
May as well, I’m not driving. I throw back the shot, but it takes me three times to get it all down. I finish my punch and have one more while scanning the area, looking for Clifford. By the time I’m through with my second drink, I’m feeling a little foggy and a lot tired, and I have to pee.
“I’ll be right back!” I call to Mindy, who is curled up under Ryder’s arm. Guess she’s no longer worried about calling the football player.
I wander through the party to the bathroom, but there’s a line, so I search for a place to sit and rest. My ankles wobble with each step, and I use the narrow hallway walls to steady myself. I may have drunk too much. Again. I reach the end of the hallway when a sharp sting meets my ass.
“Ouch…” My response is delayed, but I rub the burn on my ass and look up into the hungry eyes of my boy—um…hookup, Clifford. “Hey, where’ve you been?”
He grips my hips and pulls me to him, and I have to tilt my head back to see his face. “You drunk yet?”
“Oh, yeah.” Stupid alcohol. “Happy Birthday.” I smirk and bat my eyelashes; although it doesn’t feel as sexy as I’d hoped. “I have a present for you.”
He hums and grips my backside hard enough to hurt, or I suppose it would hurt if I wasn’t numb. “Does it involve you naked and spread wide on my bed?”
“Umm…” I chew my lip.
He nuzzles my neck, and I get a whiff of what I’ve started calling his party smell. It’s not cigarettes or weed; it’s something else, like burning plastic.
I pull back and meet his eyes. “Where’ve you been?” He never did answer when I asked him before.
“Been partying, babe.” He jerks his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. “Where’ve you been?”
“Here.” God, I haven’t seen him all night, and now it’s like we’re interrogating each other. I frown.
“Let’s go make out.” He slides his tongue up my neck to my ear.
“Oh, um… I can’t.”
He stills and pulls back, his hold on me going slack. “What? Why not?”
“Happy Birthday.” I stick my tongue out to show him my piercing.
He narrows his eyes on it, and my stomach plummets at his lack of immediate excitement. “Well fuck, guess you won’t be using your tongue on me tonight.” He studies it closer. “It’s swollen. You know you’re not supposed to drink while it’s healing, right?”
Oh shit. Did I know that?
He sighs. “Oh well, so no tongue action, but I can still get in here.” He cups me between my legs.
I pull his hand away, half embarrassed and mostly irritated he’d even grab me like that in public. “Actually, I can’t do that either.”
His eyes widen and he grins. “Clit piercing?”
“Period.”
“Well, fuck.” He drops his hold from me completely and steps back. “Happy Birthday to me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought…” I thought the piercing would be enough, but I was wrong. “Guess we could just hang out. I mean just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you need your dick sucked to have fun.”
“Ahh, that’s where you’re wrong, Elle.”
Elle. It’s the nickname I give people I don’t know well. My full name is something only my close friends call me. Clifford picked up on it once, called me Axelle, but I told him I hated the name and to please call me Elle. It was a lie. I love my name. But Elle helps me to remember there are still boundaries between us.
His gaze follows the group of co-eds from outside as they walk by, the gorgeous blonde sending the major come-fuck-me eyes to Clifford. “Plenty of girls here who’d suck my dick.”
Panic rises in my chest. An emptiness I bury deep in my heart flares and pushes to the surface. Don’t leave me. The whisper in my head is so soft and familiar I can basically ignore it, but my hands slide over his shoulders to lock around his neck anyway. As if my body can’t deny what my soul is screaming.
“Stay with me tonight.” I press a soft close-mouthed kiss on his lips. “Please.”
His bloodshot gray eyes search mine, and he cups my jaw. “Go wait for me in my room. I’ll be there in a minute.” He slaps my ass and leaves me alone, feeling cheap, weak, and empty.
I peer down at my clothes and I see what Ryder was seeing: the attempt of a desperate girl to win over a guy. I’d never get away with dressing like this if I lived at my mom’s house. My stepdad would lock me up for the rest of my life if he saw me in some of the shit I wear to parties.
They don’t know though.
They don’t understand.
No one does.
*
Killian