We went to the beach, but it was quick and embarrassing, but now we are forgetting about it with our new slate. I have more chances to embarrass myself and I feel like it’s easier to happen without a book in front of me.
As if on cue, my stomach grumbles.
“So a yes then?” Max pries.
“Ah, fuck it. Let’s go.”
Chapter 10
Maxwell
TheTimbermillisalow-lit tavern with a lot of high top tables and a large bar smack in the middle of the dining room.
Despite it being a Monday, it is popping with crowds. I recognize some people from campus, but most are unknown.
Clayton and I find two seats next to each other at the back. The chairs are hard to sit in and I can’t spread my legs too much in fear of touching the person to my left. Spreading my right leg out a bit, it touches Clayton’s.
“Sorry, not a lot of room for my lanky legs,” I joke.
“Oh, it’s fine.”
The bartender comes over taking our drink orders. Clayton orders a suncruiser and I order a vodka cran with sprite.
A silence falls over us. Not uncomfortable. No tension. Just two guys sitting side by side waiting for a drink.
I break it.
“Why don’t you like parties?”
Clayton’s head whips toward me and his entire demeanor changes. “I just don’t.”
“Just wasn’t sure. Over the weekend you got pretty shaky and then turned it down today. Thought maybe something happened?” I push. It’s none of my business, but if something happened to him, I need to know.
Not sure why.
I don’t care to look further into that.
“It was a while ago. Doesn’t matter.”
“But you still don’t go to parties, so it matters,” I say.
“Leave it alone, Max.”
“Look, if anyone hurt you before, I want you to know if I’m by your side you are always safe.”
His face drops. That stone-angry look is gone and in its place is something softer.
Our conversation is halted by the bartender dropping our drinks and taking our food orders. Clayton orders a burger with fries– no cheese, of course. I ordered the buffalo wings with a side of blue cheese.
“I wasn’t always like this. My head in a book and focused on nothing but my future. Freshman year I went to parties, hung out with people, and lived my life in full. There was a girl at the party I was friends with; we were chatting, dancing, whatever,” Clayton begins to speak, his hands shaking just like they were that night in the dining hall. Sliding my hand to his, I cover it with my palm. A small reminder to know that right here, he is safe.
He looks at me, a small smile covers his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes look hollow as if nothing is behind them. A shell of himself as he talks.
“She went to get us drinks. We had a few, but I have a pretty high tolerance. I thought I lost count of how many I had and didn’t feel well. Got dizzy and nauseous. She walked me to the bathroom. At this point, I still thought she was trying to help me. She shoved me into one of the bathroom stalls and locked it behind us. She wasn’t helping me, she was taking advantage of me. I was so out of it that I couldn’t stop her from pulling my pants down or stop her from putting my dick in her mouth. I couldn’t even speak in full words. She brought me to the point of an orgasm, but right before I did, she stopped and climbed up on me like a tree and rode me.”
His voice is low, making me have to sit even closer to him. His body heat is warm and comforting in a way that I hope mine is for him.
“She helped me back to my dorm, but the next day, I remembered everything. It’s like I was alert and aware, but my body wasn’t its own. The drugs she slipped in mixed with the alcohol I’d been drinking seemed to paralyze me. Dimmed my strength.”
