A cold rush spreads through my chest, extinguishing the warmth that had settled there moments ago. My mind replaysevery second at double speed. The hiss I mistook for being overpowered. The hesitation I attributed to needing to be in control. The way she clung to me when I thrust into her too hard and fast. And now, there’s a stiffness in the way she shifts her weight from one leg to the other, a subtle wince when she pulls her jeans up high enough to button.
Reaching for my boxers, I remove the condom and chuck it in a trash can, uncaring of the mess. It won’t be me cleaning it up anyway. Tugging my boxers on, I stand tall, arms crossed to loom over her.
“Did I…Was that…?” I swallow, unable to force out the words. Meg turns around, fully dressed and pulling her hair free of the jacket collar. She fights to appear composed, but I can see through it now. She’s practically trembling, no longer powered by alcohol in her system. The truth of what has just happened is present in the waiver of her blue eyes, as well as smeared across my thigh. We haven’t just crossed a boundary. We’ve obliterated it.
“Why me?” I narrow my eyes. Meg lifts her shoulder, taking a step back towards the door.
“Why not you?”
My heart slams painfully against my chest. If only she knew there were so many answers to that question. I rake a hand through my hair, my mind is already racing ten steps ahead.
This wasn’t casual. Girls don’t give something like that away and shrug it off. There will be expectations, there will be whispers, and it won’t be me they impact. Meg just secured a huge grant off her own back, but once word of this gets out, they’ll presume I had a hand in it. They’ll say I traded my team for her virginity. I’m not in the position to be caught up in another scandal, and she’s too talented to lose everything because of a brief lack in judgement.
“Everest?” Meg frowns, sensing the shift in the air but she doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t stand a chance. Setting my features, hiding behind the cocky mask, I straighten my shoulders and let the colder version of myself slide back into place. It’s easier this way. Easier to be the arrogant bastard she expects than a man spiraling.
I step toward her, closing the distance with intent. She searches my face for some kind of reassurance, but I give her a smirk instead. The kind that erases tenderness. The kind that rewrites history. Curling my hand around her wrist, I gently tug her to the door and pull it wide open. The roar of the party crashes back in, the scent of sweat and alcohol tingling my nose. Guiding her to the stairs, I give her a gentle shove to descend.
Beneath the railing I lean on, bodies sway, red cups raised, lights flashing in fractured bursts. They notice Meg first, then me standing bare-chest in my boxers. The music cuts almost immediately, a rise of gasps and muttering filling the echoing silence. I simply smile, remembering my father’s words.
Control the narrative. Don’t let it control you.
“Nice try, Megan, but we all know you’ve been copying my offensive sets all of last year. If I had tits, I’d have gotten that grant myself, Faker.” I call out, every word tasting like ash on my tongue. Laughter erupts instantly.
Near the bottom of the stairs, Meg almost misses a step. She whirls back to look up at me, her mouth dropping open. I look away from the shock, and the hurt, shining in her eyes, greeting my audience with a knowing grin. They play up to me, cheering my name, holding up their drinks, stroking my ego.
This is my domain. My stage. My burden, and she should get as far away from here as possible.
Sweeping a hand through my hair, I let the story play out. Let them think she tried, let her hate towards me build. I expect to see Meg’s silhouette dart out of the open doorway, but whenthat doesn’t happen, I make the mistake of looking back. She’s leaning against the wall, her chin tilted upwards and a smile playing about her own swollen mouth.
“Oh Everest,” Meg laughs to herself. The crowd quiets, smartphones lifting to catch Meg’s embarrassment. But that’s not what they get. “I’m not the one standing half naked with cum in his pants. Maybe you should work harder on your own success, rather than trying to piggyback off mine.”
An ‘oooo’ makes its way around the entire house, the girls present pointing and sniggering openly. Heat crawls up my cheeks and in an effort to save me from responding, the music is switched back on. Meg stares openly, her brow cocked, the image of composure. I wave my hand in the air, effectively dismissing her, even though it’s me who leaves.
Retreating back to my study and grabbing the neck of the whiskey bottle, I swig enough to make me cough. Below, the party is back in full swing and I imagine her down there. Dancing, laughing, mocking. That’s just fine. We needed to reset the dynamics, solidifying the barriers between us again. Especially with my parents being who they are and what they’re expecting of me. I can’t be associated with a one-night stand. I can’t be the man who ruins her future. I can’t belong to anyone.
Chapter Twenty Three
Present Day
I wake with the taste of regret on my tongue. For a few disoriented seconds, I don’t know where I am. The ceiling above me swims in muted morning light, my curtains only half-drawn, a pale gray streaming in that is far too harsh for my eyes. My head throbs in time with my pulse, each beat a dull hammer behind my eyes. When I roll onto my back, my naked body shifts against the cover, and I suck in a breath. Oh, no. What have I done now?
Gripping my head in a vice-like grip, I try to remember the events that led up to this. There was the party, the bass vibratingthrough the floors. Laura laughing over beer pong. Reid’s hand on my hip. The stairs. The study. Swirling whiskey in a cut-crystal glass. And that’s where the fractured flashes end. I don’t know what happened once I entered that study, and even worse, I don’t know if I got laid last night or not. Did Everest’s smirk in the lamplight work its magic on me again, or did I end up finding Reid after all? Did one of them bring me back to my room and undress me?
Sighing, I roll back onto my side slowly, nausea rising with the motion. My body feels heavily used. Heat creeps up my neck despite the chill in the room. I press my face into my pillow and let out a muffled groan. What the hell was I thinking? Getting so damn drunk, thinking one night of loosened inhibitions would make me feel better. I told Thiago I wanted to feel something. Well, congratulations Meg. You feel like utter shit now.
Wait, Thiago! Reaching out for my phone on the bedside table, I tap the screen aggressively before realizing it’s dead.Dammit. My throat tightens unexpectedly, the threat of a sob rising. I’m a mess, and as always, I feel painfully alone. I curl in on myself, filled with self-pity. Despite the wetness that springs to my eyes, I somehow manage to drift back into a dream state again, and I wish I didn’t.
Images from last night merge with the regular nightmares I battle with. Large hands shift between Everest and Harrison, the reassured smiles taking on different forms, walls closing in. Then there’s Reid’s breathing teasing my ear, whispering how he’s going to bend, contort and break me like one of his paintings.
Every time I thought I could escape one of them, I’d be pulled back into the darkness, tape biting into my wrists, the scene blurring until I couldn’t tell who my captor was anymore. It didn’t even matter. I was trapped in the recesses of my own mind regardless.
Suddenly, a sound registers, bleeding back into my consciousness. At first, I think it’s inside my head, but even after I jolt awake, it continues. Banging, banging, and then hollering.
“Meg, open this fucking door!”
I sit bolt upright, debilitating pain shooting through my skull. The room tilts violently, black spots pricking at the edges of my vision, but the voice outside slices through the haze with terrifying clarity.
“Megan! I’m three seconds from breaking in!” The banging hits harder, the wood rattling in its frame.
