I’d spent so many nights dreaming that she’d come find me. That her family would move me into their oversized house and keep me in the softness and warmth that I imagined must have formed her.
As sleep pulls me under, I morph into the boy I was that summer, where moments of happiness pierced the fear and pain.
TWO
KAT
Sweat slicksmy skin as bodies jut and writhe on the dance floor. At this point, I don’t even know if it’s mine. I’ve had enough vodka, lemonade and limes not to care, either.
The flashing lights slash across my roommate, Ellie’s, face, interspersed with her gleeful half-shouting of the dance song’s lyrics. Some drunken guy with a hairstyle far too reminiscent of an alpaca grinds against her from behind. Gross. I take her hand and tug her through the sway of revellers until we reach the bar.
‘Tequila?’ Ellie shouts over the din.
‘Water,’ I insist. I’m all for drinking my bodyweight in shots on a night out, but we’ve got to pace ourselves if we don’t want to end up scrubbing vomit from the carpet by morning.
‘Stick-in-the-mud,’ Ellie says with a roll of her dark eyes. ‘Kat in the mud.’
I groan as she breaks into tipsy giggles. We’re definitely on different levels of drunk.
‘Going to pee.’ Ellie saunters in the direction of the bathroom while I wait to catch a server’s attention. Leaning forward, I squeeze together my cleavage to expedite the process. By the time I’m handed the two bottles of water, Ellie is back on the dance floor, necking the face off a stranger. Thrusting the water between her and her beau, I lean against a nearby pillar and rehydrate.
When hands slip around my waist, I shriek and twist, squeezing my bottle and sending a jet of lukewarm water into Darren’s face.
‘Oh shit, sorry.’ I bite my lip to hide the laugh which bubbles.
‘It’s a good thing you’re my favourite troublemaker,’ Darren says, wiping his face with his hand before pulling my hips flush to his, and sliding his wet lips over my throat. A delicious little thrill danced up my spine. ‘Thought I wasn’t going to catch you before you went home.’
‘Mmm, and yet you did.’
‘It would be easier if you let me come to yours sometime. I could make you moan all night and cook you breakfast in the morning.’ God, he’s a sweet man. Yet, I still kept him on a tight leash. No visiting my flat. No labels. No feelings. Just sex. You’d think he’d jumpat the chance. He did, at first, but recently he’s been trying for more. Trying for something I’m not ready to give.
Twenty-two and I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not a real one. Whenever I’ve been interested in a guy, proximity only seems to douse my ardour. Not my sex drive, but that romance you see in movies, or hear others talk about in sparkly-eyed wonder.
Maybe I’m just a product of my childhood.
Darren’s lips graze my collarbone before inching their way to mine. As always, Darren is a little heavy on the tongue. Which is more of a problem upstairs than down.
‘Baby,’ he moans, grinding his hips and pressing his growing hardness between my thighs. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to yours.’
Heat fills my cheeks as I tip my head back and moan. God, I may not want to marry him, but damn does it feel good to be adored.
‘Not tonight.’ I scrape my nails over his shirt and wish that it would make him groan. He’s never vocal. It’s nice to get a little appreciation for your efforts sometimes.
We kiss as the beat of the music thrums around us, the vibrations only adding to the moment. Before I know it, Darren has me backed against the wall with his tongue in my mouth and two fingers between my thighs. It’s reckless, but it gets my blood roiling through me. Bodies writhe around us, the room dripping withyouthful excitement. And lust. Cheap alcohol and student inhibition always make for a horny-people soup.
‘So hot,’ he groans as I press my head back against the wall and focus on the delicious tension building between my legs.
‘Shh.’ Wrapping my arms around his neck, I arch my hips to take his fingers deeper. I don’t want him to talk. I want him to get me off.
It’s hard to focus with all the noise and the undercurrent of worry that someone might film me getting fingered and spread it around campus. We could get a room at the shitty hotel across the street, like we usually do. Sighing, I grip his wrist and slow his movements. A furrow crosses his brow. My body screams at me to let him continue, to use an orgasm to escape for a little bit. That it might be hot to let him make me come in front of a roomful of drunk strangers.
I can’t. My body might be enjoying the sensation, but my head’s not in it. Not tonight.
‘C’mon baby, let’s get a room.’
‘I can’t, I’m out with Ellie.’
‘Ellie won’t care, she’s all over that other guy,’ he wheedles.
