by R Holmes
Her small hands push against my chest. "You're a pig."
If I was weak, I'd kiss her right now. The way she's looking up at me under heavy, dark lashes. Her eyes ablaze telling me everything her mouth won’t. Her lips are plump, deliciously colored like the sweetest fucking raspberry in the patch. Everything about her is enough to make any man sin. And I find myself wanting her, despite the hate I truly feel for her.
It hasn't changed. I hate her for what she's done. I just find myself hating her… less when I’m around her. Until she's gone, and then I remember Ezra and where he is.
She quickly removes her shirt and discards it into the sink, leaving her in nothing but the lace bra I can guarantee she wore just for me. The swell of her luscious tits begs for my mouth to kiss them, bite them, stick my cock between them and fuck them until they're coated with my cum. I want to mark her, fucking claim her.
Valentina Carmichael is driving me insane. That's the only way to explain this animalistic frenzy I feel when I'm in the same room with her. Merely my body reacting to hers in a way that is chemistry. The main reason I wanted to sink into her balls-deep and fuck her until I no longer gave a fuck about why I hated her.
"You know, some might call this nice. What you just did for me. Giving me your blazer," she says smugly.
Yeah, well, don’t fucking count on it ever happening again. I feel sorry for her. Pity. That’s it. I’ll continue to tell myself that for as long as it fucking takes. Valentina Carmichael was never going to be something I found myself lusting after, waiting to catch her after class, trying to rush through an assignment to find her and torment her.
Lies.
"I don't do nice. Call it what you want, just don’t want you to die. Corpses aren't fun to fuck."
Her nose squints and she shakes her head. "I shouldn't be surprised by anything that comes out of your mouth at this point, but here I am… shocked."
Before I can reply, her phone rings in her book bag. She takes it out and glances down at the screen before letting out a frustrated sigh. Obviously someone she doesn't want to talk to. Without pausing, she rejects the call and shoves her phone back in the front pocket of her bag. The look on her face is crestfallen, like someone kicked her dog. It rings inside her book sack again but she makes no move to answer.
"Avoiding someone or…" I ask before I can even catch myself.
"Or," she responds. Not bothering to elaborate on my question, she busies herself by shoving her wet clothes into her bag. After a few beats of silence, her phone rings again. Whoever she's avoiding is persistent to say the least.
"Valentina."
The tone in my voice gets her full attention and her blue irises meet my gaze.
"Put the backpack down. Answer the phone." I walk over to her until we're toe to toe. I watch as her breathing quickens, and her chest rises and falls with each passing second. Her pupils dilate. She knows what I want. She expects it. Wants the fucked-up punishments I give her.
"I don't want to answer the phone."
"Whoever it is, is obviously not taking no for an answer, much like me. Answer it. I have things to handle."
She rolls her eyes but slides the phone out of her book sack before swiping to answer. I'm pleasantly surprised at her lack of sass with being bossed around. She pretends to hate when I tell her what I want her to do, but secretly she loves it. It makes her pussy wet, I know because I've had her come against my face as I commanded her to. She just likes to protest before pretending to give in.
The face of an older woman with way too fucking much Botox, and obnoxiously large lips, comes on to the screen. Her hair is dark like Valentina’s, but that's where the similarities end, there's no way it's her mom.
"Hi, Victoria," she answers.
"Valentina, darling, I'm so glad you finally answered. You know how much I hate to be kept waiting."
The snooty, condescending tone of her voice when she speaks to her immediately makes me think their relationship must not be great.
"Sorry, I was dealing with something at school. Because I'm at school… remember?"
"Oh yes, darling, listen. About the trip your father and I had planned to visit…"
Valentina's whole body sags in defeat. Like she was expecting this call, but didn't want to hear her say it.
"You know, darling, your father is just so busy at the firm, and I have so many events planned with the country club. You know how things are here, always moving forward, never a chance to stop." She laughs, fake and completely over the top.
"Right. Look, it's no big deal. There's always next year. Can we talk later?"
"Of course, there will be plenty of birthdays after this. Also, please make sure not to eat too much cake, I don't want to need to have this dress altered again."
I scoff unintentionally out loud and Valentina's eyes fly to mine, and she gives me a threatening sneer.
"Yes, sure, I'm in the middle of something, can you call me later?"
"You know, Valentina, every time I call to chat with you, you are busy. You never return my calls. I can tell you are avoiding me."
Watching the exchange between the two of them is enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Is this her mother speaking to her this way? I cross my arms across my chest and lean against the sink as I watch it unfold.
"I'm just busy with school and life, Victoria, I'm not avoiding you. My course load and extracurriculars are a lot. Harvard doesn't accept mediocre."
"Family should come first. You could always come back home instead of going to school halfway across the country. Los Angeles has top-rated colleges. Anyway, how are those diet pills I sent you? Have you been tracking your weight loss and daily measurements like I told you?"
My jaw all but hits the floor. Are you fucking kidding me? Is she seriously trying to tell Valentina she's overweight? Her body is like a walking wet fucking dream.
Her cheeks flush bright red and she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, then reopens them and plasters a fake, bright smile on I don't think I've ever seen on her face.
"Yep, everything's great here. I'll call you later. ’Kay, bye!" She presses End and drops her head into her hands, letting out the sexiest frustrated groan I've ever heard.
I've got to get away from this girl before I lose my fucking mind.
"Please just pretend you didn't hear any of that. Can we go back to not talking, I think I liked that better. Better yet, how about we just go back to pretending I don't exist. Thanks." Her voice rushes out in a wave of embarrassment.
She refuses to meet my eyes, so I step closer and grasp her chin, forcing her to look up.
"Can't pretend, little lamb. Today's your birthday?"
She shakes her head. "It's tomorrow. My stepmom and Dad were supposed to fly out, but apparently they aren't. It's not a big deal, it's just another day."
Liar.
It bothers her more than she's willing to admit that her dad and stepmom won't be here for her birthday, and her relationship with her stepmom bothers her even more. I can see why.
"Meet me tomorrow, eleven p.m. The chapel. Something I need to show you."
I don't wait for her response, but instead grab my book bag and unlock the door. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, or why I'm showing her any mercy. I can't explain the pull I feel toward her, but tonight, I'll right her wrong.
I shouldn't be surprised he didn't call. It shouldn't hurt. I shouldn't expect anything from him after all of the times he's let me down.
But I do, and it does. I spent most of the day obsessively checking my phone for a call, voicemail, or text. Hell, even an email. I got nothing. I was hoping my own father would remember my birthday. Or even remember to tell his wife to call and wish it on his behalf. All day has been crickets, aside from the few and far between friends I keep in touch with from home who sent texts.
Another reason I detest birthdays. I wish we could skip them all together. All they are is a day where you can be reminded how you truly don't matter in anyone'
s lives.
My mood is completely sour by the evening and all I want is for the day to be over. Which is why I will not be going to meet Rhys anywhere or speaking to him at any point. Happy birthday to me. Unfortunately, I can't avoid Rory or he will beat the door down until I answer. Which is what happened exactly twenty minutes ago. I pulled myself out of bed, and answered the door, still in my oversized St. Augustine sweatshirt and slippers.
The first word out of his mouth was, "Oh, sweetie. You look homeless."
And that's what it’s like having a gay best friend.
He pushes past me into my dorm and immediately forces me into taking a shower. Now, as I stand under the scalding spray, I'm preparing to go to a party at the Abbey against my will.
"Valentina, you are not going to sit in this dorm room on your freaking birthday for another damn second. Had I not had to volunteer at the homeless shelter with the drama club all day, we would've gotten pedis and stuffed our face with Chinese, but since we cannot… we're going out. And you are going to look hot as fuck and dance with the hottest guy there."
"Ror, can we please just stay in and binge Gossip Girl? Like, why isn't this an option?"
He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Because we literally watch Gossip Girl every other night it isn't your birthday. I'm curling your hair and you can wear the black dress Vic-whoria sent you for the mixer, remember? It was literal fuck-hot."
The little black dress of death. That's what we'll call that dress. Because my tits and ass do not fit in that dress. It's what Victoria sent me as a "goal" to fit into by the summer, which never happened because, unlike she hopes, this ass and these hips aren't going anywhere. I'm curvy. I've got full tits and hips that will absolutely bear children. No amount of dieting is going to take them away. Even if she insists on making me feel horrible about myself at every turn and forcing diet pills down my throat.
"Okay, if you want me to look like a stripper, sure, I'll wear the dress," I retort.
"That's exactly what I want. Chop chop!"
Ugh.
I quickly wash my hair and body, shave my legs, and get out. Rory's sitting on my bed cross-legged next to dress choices. Thankfully, there are options.
"So, I was totally thinking of the black dress until I just raided your closet, and, bitch, you have some hot-ass shit. Where'd it come from?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
"Who do you think?"
"Vic-whoria. Duh." He shudders.
I pick the brush up off my vanity and begin running it through my hair to get rid of tangles. My hair is awesome, until I have to wash, brush, and blow dry it. The ends of my hair touch my ass, which means it takes forever and a day to do anything with it.
"Tonight's going to be epic. Let's get drunk and catch a ride home?" he asks.
I contemplate for a moment before responding to him. It's my birthday. I should at least have some fun, right? I've spent the entire day in bed binge watching Netflix, eating my weight in Starbursts. No one will expect me to go to an off-campus party and get drunk. Not Valentina Carmichael.
"Let’s do it."
Two hours later, we pull up at the Abbey after hitching a ride with a girl from Rory's drama class. My hair is in loose waves, looking completely effortless, thanks to Ror. I did a dramatic smoky eye paired with thick lashes, and bright red lipstick. We decided on the black dress because even though it is short, and it is tight, everything stayed in place and I think Rory is right, it looks amazing. For the first time in a very long time, I look and feel amazing. I felt some of the old me return by taking the time to pamper myself. Rory painted my nails a bright red to match my lipstick.
"Val, you look so fucking hot." Rory does a shimmy to get his point across.
I'm just thankful I could get out of the car without flashing the entire world my underwear.
"Thanks, Ror."
He takes my hand in his. "Let's go make this party our bitch." We walk together hand in hand into everyone's favorite abandoned house on the edge of town. Three stories of looming Gothic architecture. The place is creepy as hell in the middle of the day, let alone in the middle of the night. Story goes, the family who lived here before was murdered in the middle of night by the dad of the family. It was on the market for years and years but never sold. Eventually, it went vacant and stayed this way until it was turned into a party spot. I shiver at the memory of what happened the last time I was here.
I try to shake off the feeling. I’m determined not to let Rhys ruin anything else in my life.
There's people everywhere, inside and out, despite the frigid temperature. I grip his hand tightly as he leads us inside. I'm nervous but also excited to have a night where the old Valentina is back. The carefree, happy Val, who didn't give a shit what anyone thought. The second we step over the threshold, I spot a few people I know, and no sign of Rhys or Mara or anyone I want to avoid.
Tonight might actually be a good night.
"Hey, gonna go grab us some drinks. I'll be right back. You okay here?" Rory whisper-yells in my ear over the speakers.
I give him a small nod. The scene is playing out all too familiar and it makes me uneasy.
He leaves me tucked off in the corner while he heads over to the drink section and gets two red Solo cups. Someone stops him along the way and they talk animatedly.
Could this be the guy Ror told me about a couple weeks ago? Rory ends the conversation and leaves abruptly, heading back over to me. He thrusts the red Solo cup in my hand before taking a long sip.
"You okay?"
He nods, but doesn't elaborate. I decide to not push the subject.
"Drink up, babe, let's dance."
I sniff the contents of the cup and realize it's tequila. My least favorite liquor on the planet. Not that I'm a big drinker, anyway, but the few times I've had tequila have not ended well for me.
"Val, c'mon, drink! It's your birthday, we're celebrating and we're not letting anything ruin our night."
He grins, nudging my arm.
"Fine. But, you better take care of me if I end up on the floor making a fool of myself."
I throw back the tequila and drink the entire cup’s contents, then hand it back over to Rory who's looking at me completely shocked. His eyes look like they might bulge right out of his head.
"What?" I ask.
"Holy shit. You just drank that like a champ."
I shrug. "Just because I don't think much, doesn't mean I can't. I just don't like to not be in control of my actions."
He tosses the empty cup in the trash and then drags me out on to the dance floor. Loud music beats through the speakers full of bass that makes the floor under my stilettos shake. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the fact that I feel sexy and empowered for the first time in a very, very long time but I'm having a blast. We dance to song after song, and one drink turns into three… or maybe it's four? I lost track when the red Solo cups turned into shot glasses. And when Rory leaves to get us another drink, I dance by myself. Uninhibited and unashamed.
At this very moment, I don't care who's watching. I don't give a shit if all of my peers want to talk about what I'm wearing or how I'm dancing alone. I let the rhythm of the beat carry me. My hips sway with each thrum of the bass. I lose myself in the feeling of the music. In the process, I bump into someone and almost lose my footing in these obnoxious heels.
"Woah," a deep voice from behind me says as two strong hands find my waist to steady me.
I look over my shoulder and see Eli, the guy from my Latin class I ran into in the hallway.
"We've got to stop meeting like this." He grins. He's wearing a St. Augustine pullover with a pair of jeans and sneakers. Dressed down but still handsome, all the same. His eyes drag down the length of my body and back. "Wow. You look amazing. I mean, it’s not like you don't always look amazing, but uh…" He coughs to cover his embarrassment of him blatantly checking me out. "This dress, it's amazing. That's what I meant."
He checked me out, then stumbled over his words.
Rhys would've never been nervous or embarrassed for openly devouring my body with his eyes. I could kick myself for thinking of him and comparing him to this nice guy who obviously is attracted to me.
I laugh. "Thank you. I never really have a place to wear it so I figured why not."
"Well, I’m glad you did, you look beautiful. Do you want to dance?" he asks as a slower, more sensual song flows through the speakers.
"Uh, sure, yeah I'd like that."
He extends his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me to him. He smells like cedar and something else. Something comforting.
"Leave."
A voice comes from somewhere behind me, causing Eli’s eyes to widen, and he drops my hand like he's been burned.
What the hell?
I whip around and see Rhys standing behind us, casually leaning against the wall. His hands are crossed over his chest and he's wearing a black T-shirt with a pair of dark wash ripped jeans, with his usual Vans. The cotton stretches across his biceps in ways I shouldn't even take notice of, but being how I was fucked-up, I did. His face is absolutely lethal.
"Sorry, man, I didn't realize she was claimed," Eli sputters, tossing me an apologetic glance before walking off.
"Claimed?" My jaw drops.
Did he just say I was claimed?
"What the actual hell just happened? Did you just do the broody, own-the-whole-fucking-universe shit you do?" I screech as I stomp over to where he's leaning.
"Don't like being stood up. Especially for douchebags like McIntire.”
His tone is cold, and tonight, his eyes match. They're dark and stormy. He's pissed.
"First of all, I didn't stand you up. I just decided I didn't want to go. Just because you bark commands, I don't have to follow them. Second, off-limits? Have you truly lost your mi—" I screech. I’m fuming and if he wants a scene, I’ll cause one. He can’t do anything in front of all these people.
Before I can finish losing my shit on him, Rhys bends down and tosses me over his shoulder. I shriek in surprise when he wraps his arms around my waist to hold me in place. Murmurs from everyone in the room who witness him manhandle me sound and even though I’m upside down, I see every person in the room is staring. Every. Single. Person.
