But I need release, so I pump and pump, twist and thumb my tip. Trying not to think about Stan and his grin and his jokes and how he makes me feel like I don’t need to feel bad about anything I’ve ever done.
The more I try to fight it, the stronger his voice gets in my head. Calling me Ocean Eyes. Telling me to wake up. Showing me I can laugh again. Telling me to fight.
And then a memory slips in. One I didn’t realize was buried. When my body felt cold and my breathing felt forced, I could hear him talking about a calendar he found with pictures of cats on it. He was so happy. Inside my mind, I felt stuck, but I could feel the joy in his voice.
Oh, god, no.
I’m going to come to that.
Oh.God.
My pants are ruined the next second. My hand sticky.
I justcameto a buried memory of Stan telling me about a cat calendar while I was in a coma.
All I can do is lie here until my pulse stops trying to punch its wayout of my veins. Until I can think without wanting to crawl out of my own skin. I haven’t even taken the new Kys yet. What the hell can I blame for this?
Eventually, I push myself upright, careful not to look at anything for too long. Especially not the pillow. Especially not the proof in my pants of what just happened.
I wipe my clean hand over my face. My voice comes out low and bitter. “Never speak of this.”
The room doesn’t argue.
I walk back to the powder room like nothing happened, even though everything in my body feels different now.
Washing my hands, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m not red in the face anymore at least.
***
By the time I head back to the MedBay, I’ve changed clothes. I tell myself I look fine. I tell myself no one can tell.
Stan’s outside the MedBay, leaning against the wall, talking to Idris. They both look at me when I approach.
“Hey, Ocean Eyes,” Stan says with a wink that hits me like a punch. “You good?”
I hope my face doesn’t show anything. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” Stan steps closer, watching me like he knows I’m lying. “You need Idris to babysit you for a minute while I handle a mission from Prince of Egypt over here?”
Idris lifts a brow at Stan, then turns to me with a smile. “He means I’ve asked him to check on my brother.”
Stan beams. “I can crack open any emotionally constipated older brother.”
“That’s kind of you to say about him.” Idris laughs. “But he’s atough nut to crack.”
Nut. The word spins in my head. I close my eyes and sigh.
“Please. I learned from the best,” Stan says. “You walk in anywhere lookin’ like a dreamy prince. People melt. It’s unfair. I already got Nil to compete with for Prettiest on Board, but now Prince Charming’s up for grabs between us, Idris.”
“Not even close,” Idris responds. “You easily win that, Stan.”
“Aww!” Stan sounds like he’s swooning.
I open one eye and frown, watching them. They’re so chummy with each other. When did that happen? While I was out cold? Does Stan flirt with Idris like he does with me?
My stare’s aimed at Idris. He’s a few inches shorter than Stan, so around my height. And he has blue eyes, like Darius too. My frown deepens. Does Stan have a type? Brown hair, blue eyes…?
I shut the thoughts down fast. I’m not attached. Can’t be attached. I literally jerked off in his bed ten minutes ago. That isn’t attachment. That’s possible brain damage. From the fall. Yeah, thathasto be it.
