"Oh, my god—" My moan comes out broken against his mouth as the orgasm moves through me and I'm trembling on his lap. My hands grip his hair, and I hear him groan into my neck as he starts shuddering beneath me. For just a moment, the whole world narrows down to this — his arms, his warmth, the heavy rain starting on the poolhouse roof.
Then the lights come on.
Colt and several guys from his team. Several girls from my squad. They were all there, watching the whole thing.
"Told you she could do it." Colt holds his hand out to the guys behind him, grinning. "Pay up."
The laughter is deafening. I want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t let Colt see that in my eyes. I slide off Michael's lap. He stands slowly and looks around the room. I watch the understanding move across his face, and I want to die. I want to walk through the wall behind me and disappear into the earth.
The pointing starts.
There's a wet spot on the front of his tan cargo pants, and I know —I know— that some of that is from my own orgasm. But the comments come fast and cruel, layered on top of eachother, and Michael still hasn't said a word. He just stands there, absorbing it. I am standing three feet away, and I can’t help him. I can’t stop this. I can’t look at him, but I can’t look away, either.
Did you think the head cheerleader was actually into you?
Fucking pathetic.
Say cheese for the camera, wet wipe.
The comments get crueler by the second. Michael still hasn’t said anything. Colt decides to put the final nail in the coffin. He crosses the room towards me, and I brace myself. He takes a handful of my ass, practically showing it to everyone in the room. He kisses me with his tongue in my mouth, his eyes open and aimed directly at Michael over my shoulder.
He holds it until the door opens, and Michael is gone.
“Everybody out.” Colt says. The room empties in under a minute. I stand in the middle of it with my arms folded across my chest
When the last person leaves the pool house, Colt grabs a handful of my hair.
“Fucking whore. You liked that, didn’t you? Him playing in your fucking hair. Did you come on his lap like a goddamn slut?” He spits as he drags me toward the bedroom.
I stumble trying to keep pace, my hands going to his wrist, my voice going up. "Colt, you're hurting me—" but it doesn't matter; it never matters. When he lets go, I scramble to get my footing, but his fist connects with my cheek before I can get steady. I fly back onto the bed and the ceiling spins.
He lays his weight down on top of me.
"You're lucky you're the hottest girl in school." He says it almost gently. "Or I'd have been done with you a long time ago." He reaches between us to unbuckle his belt and pants. “Nowyou’re going to be a good whore for me. I fucking own you, Blaire. Don’t you ever fucking forget it.”
I turn my face toward the wall.
I think about Michael walking out into the rain.
I thinkI'm sorryand I keep thinking it while the rain gets harder on the roof and Colt takes what he's decided he's owed. I go somewhere else inside my head, somewhere far from this room, and I don't come back until it's over.
***
The next morning, Michael Bennett's social media accounts were gone. He never returned to class, and by the end of the week, he'd been withdrawn from Lee High. I never saw him again.
Three weeks later, I became Blaire Monroe.
I told myself it was what I deserved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BENNET
I hold Blaire's hand the entire rest of the way.
I made the decision somewhere around the ten-minute mark to skip the pier entirely. Fuck the press, the paparazzi, the schedule Blaire built, and the narrative we're supposed to be selling. None of that matters right now.
She's still so withdrawn. Not holding my hand so much as allowing me to hold hers, her fingers loose inside mine, and her eyes somewhere out the window that has nothing to do with the highway passing outside it.
