There’s some strange magnetic pull that draws me to him. Staying away should be easy. Only, it isn’t.
The moment Clara left, I let those deviant thoughts sift through. The image of him haunts my mind, teasing me in the most disturbing ways. Dipping my hand into my leggings, I brush my fingertips against my clit, making me shudder. I suck my bottom lip and let out a soft whimper. This feels wrong, immoral. I let the pillow cradle my head as I sink deeper into the mattress, my fingers dipping into the wet, fleshy heat of my pussy at the thought of him. Never have I wanted the bad boy. I’ve always gone with the safe choice; the good guy. Never once have I felt like this when my fingers slip between my folds.
Wetness coats my fingers as I draw lazy circles over my clit until the pressure builds and becomes too much. The rush washes over me like a tidal wave, and my breath seizes in my throat. Stars haze my vision. I grip the sheets as I ride out my orgasm, hips thrusting of their own accord.
I come down and immediately feel regret and shame. Zain is bad news, and the fact he’s already embedded in my brain scares the hell out of me.
The door snicks open, and Clara pushes inside with her hair wrapped in a towel, sporting little cotton shorts and a tee. She hums happily. I’m overjoyed she’s finally in a better mood. My body scoots upright on the bed. I cross my legs. They still feel like Jell-O.
“Have a good shower?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t notice my flushed cheeks. It’s hard enough to get privacy in these dorms.
She rummages in her pile of clothes on the floor with a huff. “I legit have no clothes to wear tonight,” she pouts, tossing a red top in the corner.
“You’re not seriously going back?” I ask dumbfounded. That Kieran guy looks just as scary as Zain.
She unwraps her hair and starts brushing it out. Her body twists to face me. “Yup.
Did you know he’s the dean’s son?”
My eyes widen and I snap forward. “As in the son oftheMortensen Grimshaw?!” “Yup,” she says, popping thep.
Kieran doesn’t strike me as a dean’s son. The guy is covered in face tattoos and looks absolutely feral. I envisioned the dean’s son as a good boy who wore polo shirts and golf shorts.
There is no sense in talking her out of it though. She’s going to do what she wants. Me being the person I am, I can’t just let her go alone. I’m a pushover and I know it.
She sets her brush on her bed before rummaging through her clothes again. She snaps around and tosses me a few pieces.
“Don’t act like you don’t want to go. I saw the way you looked at Zain in class today.” Her lip curls upward in a teasing grin.I sift through the clothes, holding each one up, inspecting it. These wouldn’t cover a single ass cheek. Unease filters over my face. “I didn’t look at him any certain way—and what the heck is this!? I can’t wear this!” I hold up a strappy bra top with a simple pair of ripped jean shorts. She waves me off without even turning around. “Of course you can.”
I shake my head in disbelief and sling my dark hair over my shoulder. “It’s November! It was one thing for the Halloween party but this…” I grumble.
She’s already shimmying in a slinky black dress. She rolls her eyes and tosses me a pair of fishnet leggings. “Here,”
“This is supposed to keep me warm?” I whine, already knowing the answer. My shoulders slump in defeat.
She quickly puts her hair in two braids and flashes me a cheesy, playful smile.
I let myself fall backwards against the cool sheets. “Fine, we can go after I finish rehearsal. The performance is only a few weeks away, so I can’t miss,” I warn her.
She jumps on the bed beside me and rests her elbows, her chin cradled in her palm. “Thanks.” She smiles knowing she can easily sway me.
I tilt my head to the side to look at her and return a smile. Herthanksis more than just going to the party with her. It’s for looking after her and being there for her.
She’s never had a real friend before, and I’m more than happy to fill that void. I just hope one day she opens up about her past.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my notifications. Another text from Dad pings through. I blow out a breath. I’ve been the worst at replying to my father. It’s the longest I’ve been away from home, andit’s strange. I know I’m a grown adult, and it’s time for some independence, according to Clara at least. The concept is foreign to me though. Growing up, I was the kid who had rigid parents. They held me on a tight leash and had high expectations.
“Don’t you have to get going?” Clara reminds me as she swipes mascara over her lashes.
I spring forward from the bed and sift through my clothes for a jacket. “Shit!” I trip over the blankets that are bunched over my ankles, causing my hair to fly over my face. I catch myself against the vanity and then shrug my leather jacket on.
Digging my shoes out from the corner, I slip them on and rush towards the door. “I’ll be back at eight,” I yell over my shoulder before the door slams closed behind me.
My Docs slam against the pavement. In my rush to leave, I’d managed to forget my purse. I groan. I won’t have my student ID for a late-night snack, which is a bummer because I missed dinner. I stalk forward onto the campus loop. The tall, dark, iron lampposts cast a low glow over the campus walkway and perfectly manicured lawn. The moon shines brightly through the clouds, illuminating the path in front of me. I hate walking around campus alone at night, but I left too late to grab a walking buddy. The chilly October air sifts over my neck making me shiver.
The overwhelming feeling of someone watching me creeps over me. I zip up my jacket and keep my head on a swivel. No one else is out and about, but I pick up the pace just in case. It’s clearly my imagination messing with me, right? Campus is safe. Our security is tight for such a prestigious school.
A twig snaps. I swing my body around so hard my hair slaps my face. Nothing but darkness stares back at me.
