ECSTASY

by KV Rose

  I toss my phone in the center console and pull out of the driveway, glancing at Alex’s black Jeep as I do. I wonder if he knows that I remember what he last said to Rihanna. I wonder if he knows I didn’t tell the cops, because if I did, he would’ve been in some shit.

  I wonder why the fuck he said it anyway. He got all protective over Za at the end, like he actually gave a shit about her. I’m sure it was because he was drunk. He doesn’t know her like he thinks he does.

  He thinks she’s just some stupid whore, and maybe she is, but she’s something else too.

  She’s got some nasty habits and he doesn’t even know about all of them.

  He probably doesn’t know either, that the girls with the worst habits have the sharpest teeth.

  And that girl could take a bite out of fucking glass and never bleed.

  It’s how I know she’d be able to handle someone like me.

  8

  Zara

  “What do you want to talk about?” I don’t wait for an answer, spinning around and heading back down the hall toward the kitchen.

  I open the cabinet over the oven as Eli walks in and closes the door behind him. I grab two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. I’m fresh out of lime, but I’m also fresh out of fucks to give so I pour two shots, pick them both up and turn to face Eli as I shoot both of them back, one right after the other.

  Kylie is already off for the weekend, gone to visit her parents in Angier, and therefore I have no shame about getting wasted at two in the afternoon on a Friday. My classes are done for the day, my professors weren’t too hard on me this week considering what happened, and tomorrow is Rihanna’s funeral, so everyone has been very… somber.

  Even people that didn’t know her. I’d argue especially people that didn’t know her, but whatever.

  And Alex is playing the victim too, like he’s torn up about the cheerleader he didn’t give a damn about. Since he’s being a shady asshole, we haven’t spoken since lunch yesterday. He said he needed time to “think” about being with me.

  God, he’s fucking annoying.

  I slam down the shot glasses and cock my head toward Eli.

  He’s been to my apartment before with Alex to pick me up for a party, but it occurs to me that this is the first time he’s been here without Alex.

  The realization makes my heart pick up speed. Especially as I flash back to Saturday night, my bare breasts against his shirt as he stood in front of me while Alex fucked with me in the living room.

  It feels a little hot in here suddenly, even though I’ve got the windows open.

  Eli is in a black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders, the veins prominent in his biceps. He’s got a full sleeve on one arm, tattoos that bleed onto his hand and a few of his fingers.

  He scrubs that hand over his face, and I see his five o’clock shadow. I prefer it to the clean-shaven look. He’s hot as hell and either the tequila is going straight to my brain, or his coconut-citrus scent is making me high, or maybe I’m just insane because I kinda want to fuck him right now on this counter.

  Not a good idea, Zara. If I did that, I’m sure Alex would never forgive me.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he tells me, quite seriously. His voice is lilting, and when we first met at his and Alex’s house, I thought for sure he was European or some shit. He is technically, considering his mother is from Greece, but he’s actually just from Raleigh. He only went to school at Caven because his uncle owns an auto body shop in Raleigh, and Eli is obsessed with cars.

  It’s one of the very few things I know about him, aside from what everyone else does. He’s a wrestler, he’s smart, and quiet. The son of a wealthy lawyer. Has tattoos on his hands specifically so he couldn’t become a lawyer.

  Okay. That last part I made up, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

  “Are you shitting me?” I ask him, shaking my head and resting my palms against the kitchen counter at my back. For an on-campus apartment, this place is pretty nice. Hardwood floors, marble counters. It’s small, the living room is straight across from the kitchen, Kylie’s room is off from the living room and mine down a tiny hallway. But we each get our own attached bathrooms, and I can have lots of sex in here without worrying about dorm rules.

  Eli takes a step closer to me and I feel warmth flood my veins.

  I imagine what sex with Eli would be like. What it was almost like, before Alex stopped it.

  “No, Zara. I know you like to pretend you’re above it all but—”

  “But the girl that died was the same bitch that was trying to suck your cock at the party, so if one of us isn’t okay, shouldn’t that be you, Eli?”

  He slides his hands into his white sweats, bites his tongue as he averts his eyes. He’s got long, dark lashes and with those fucking full lips of his, I swear to God he is the envy of every girl getting filler and lash extensions, everywhere.

  It’s getting hotter in here.

  I’m breaking out into a sweat, and I think about asking him to leave.

  He sighs. “I barely knew her,” he tells me, meeting my gaze again. He takes another step forward and I instinctively try to take one back, but the counter is there, and I’ve got nowhere to go.

  I cross my arms over my chest.

  He stares at me for a long moment and it’s as if all the air has gone out of the room. I can’t breathe.

  Then he places his hands on either side of me, on the kitchen counter.

  I smell that coconut and citrus scent and resist the urge to inhale deeply. To touch him. To run my hands over his shoulders, up his throat. To press my lips to his.

  Not a good idea.

  This is not a good idea.

  He leans down close to me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not upset about it? I know you have feelings, baby girl.”

  A shiver slides down my spine at those words.

  I swallow, hating the way he’s making me feel everything right now. “Why are you even here, Eli? You need to leave.”

  He smiles, his eyes flashing. “That’s not what you want.”

  “I’m with Alex. I’m not… We don’t even—”

  He grabs my waist, his hands wrapping around my sides as he pulls me close to him, cutting off my words. I plant my hands on his chest as I look up at him, my breath coming out in a rush. “Are you with him, Zara?”

  I shake my head, my heart beating a nervous rhythm in my chest. My mouth goes dry. I’m not really sure what the hell is going on here. Eli has never flirted with me. He’s barely even spoken to me.

  And yeah, maybe I’ve fantasized about fucking him a few times because he’s hot as shit and he was unattainable and—

  No.

  Alex will never forgive me for this.

  “What do you want?” I ask him, a little breathless. I wonder if he wants to finish what we started Saturday night.

  He’s staring at my mouth and I wonder if he’s going to try to kiss me, but instead he just asks, “What happened to your mouth, baby girl?” He brings one hand to my lips, running his finger across my top one.

  I flinch, the cut from that tequila bottle still healing.

  “Eli—”

  “Did Alex do that?” He drops his hand from my mouth, and his fingers dig into my sides, the thin material of my tank top suddenly too much for me. I want his hands on me. I want him to yank down my shorts, spin me around and fuck me against this counter.

  I am insane.

  “Eli,” I whisper, his name shaky from my lips. “What are you doing?”

  He pulls me closer to his hard body. I can feel his cock throbbing against me, between us. I want to touch him there, but I don’t. Instead, I grab his arms, feel his muscles beneath my fingers.

  “He hurt you.” It’s not a question.

  “I don’t know what you think is happening here, Eli, but—”

  “Was he really in bed with you all night, Zara?” he whispers, pressing harder against me, the counter digging into my back. “Do y
ou know that for a fact?”

  My mouth drops open, alarm bells ringing in my head. “Are you trying to fuck over your own best friend right now? Is that what this is?”

  The corners of his mouth pull up into a smile. “I’ve watched you the past six months, you know that? I’ve watched you fight with him. Heard you fuck him. I’ve watched him hurt you.”

  His dick is throbbing against me and I’m panting being this close to him, our bodies pressed together.

  But I can’t do this.

  Eli is insane. Alex hasn’t hurt me. Not anymore than I’ve hurt him.

  I don’t know what he thinks he came here for, but we can’t. This isn’t right. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m not—"

  “Has he ever once really seen you, Zara?”

  “What—”

  “Because I have,” he interrupts me, bringing his mouth closer to mine. I can feel his words when he speaks, smell the way his breath is like cotton candy, tempting me with his sweetness. But he isn’t sweet, and clearly, he’s crazy. I don’t know what he’s talking about. “I’ve seen you,” he continues. “I know who you really are.”

  He leans in closer, his lips touching mine.

  I stiffen in his arms. No, no, no.

  I don’t say it, though. I don’t say it.

  “Remember that night you two fought about his dad? About how Pastor Cardi didn’t want you to see his son anymore?”

  We fought about that all the time. Alex wanted me to act more respectable, and dress “modestly” for his games. He wanted me to “stop fucking doing drugs” so his father might actually accept me.

  It was a constant source of tension, among other things.

  But I know. I know which night Eli is talking about. I know, and it makes my heart skip a beat, my stomach flipping.

  He trails his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, running his tattooed hand over a scar right there, on my hip.

  He knows.

  “Because I do,” he tells me. “I know.”

  I didn’t think anyone else was home. I thought Eli was with his dad or out or…

  Shame makes my stomach churn.

  But he doesn’t let me feel it. He doesn’t let me feel it for more than one second before he licks along the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips.

  Let him in.

  He groans against me, as if he’s been waiting for this for a long time.

  How long? I want to ask him. How long have you been waiting for me? All this time? Six whole fucking months? Why did you never say anything?

  But I don’t get a chance to ask anything.

  He breaks away, leaving me breathless, then lifts the hem of my tank top. I raise my arms up as he pulls it off over my head and drops it on the floor. He bends his head down, dropping his mouth on my nipple, his hands trailing down my waist.

  “I’ve fucking seen these all week,” he says, speaking against my skin. I grab the counter to keep myself upright, gasping. “I’ve fucking seen these in so many fucking videos. Alex’s hands all over you.” He licks a line across my chest, taking my other nipple in his mouth as I throw my head back, closing my eyes, reveling in the way he shoves his hands down my shorts.

  “Did you like it?” I ask him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he picks me up and sets me on the counter, swiping his hand over the shot glasses and the bottle of tequila, sending it all crashing to the floor.

  He parts my knees, his fingers running up my thighs as he sucks on my neck. My nails dig into his back, but his shirt is still on, and his pants, and I want him naked. I reach for his cock, rubbing my palm over it, feeling how thick and hard he is for me.

  How long? Has he just been waiting for us to break up?

  “Shut up,” he tells me instead of answering my question. He hooks his fingers through the waistband of my hot pink panties, and I throw my arms around his neck and raise up, letting him pull the material down, past my knees, past my bare feet and dropping them on the floor.

  He steps back, and I reluctantly let go of him, my hands coming to the cool counter as he assesses me, his eyes raking up and down my naked body.

  Maybe he wants to stop. Maybe he realizes this is bad. This is bad. We can’t do this. We can’t.

  “We can’t do this,” I blurt out as he stares at me. “I don’t know why you’re even here, but we can’t do this, Eli.” I cross my arms over my chest, cross my legs, too. “You need to leave.”

  “You know, Zara, it’s not a good look. Being with someone that treats you like shit.” He steps closer, reaching out his hand, and I flinch but he just brushes his thumb across my hip. The scar he saw me leave there.

  My face feels hot, my chest, too.

  “That doesn’t notice where you really hurt.”

  I don’t know what to say. I can only stare at him. But then he takes a step back and for one wild moment, I want to grab him, beg him to stay. I don’t want to be alone.

  But I don’t beg.

  And I don’t fuck my ex’s best friends.

  “I have to go to practice.” He glances at the clock on the stove behind me. “What are you doing tonight?”

  I scoff, and even though I don’t want to say it, I still do. “Nothing with you.”

  He stares at me a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugs. “All right.” He steps toward the door, then stops, his back to me. My heart soars, wondering stupidly if he’ll stay. If we’ll actually do this after all.

  But all he says is, “Those scars are beautiful, baby girl.”

  And without another word, without an explanation, he just walks out, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me naked and alone in my kitchen.

  I glance down at my thighs.

  I look over the pale white lines in the thickest part of my skin.

  He saw them.

  He saw them.

  9

  Zara

  What the fuck just happened?

  Does he really know?

  Did he really see me that night?

  What else does he know about me?

  It’s not like I keep many secrets. My bullshit is out in the open, for everyone to see.

  Absentmindedly, I trail my finger along my bare hip, my clothes still in a heap on the kitchen floor. I glance down, see the pale white scars.

  Alex has never even noticed them.

  Maybe he thought they were stretch marks and wanted to be polite.

  I laugh out loud in the quiet of my apartment at the idea. Alex is a lot of things, but he is not polite.

  Fuck.

  I wonder if Eli will tell him he came by. He said he had wrestling practice now, but the way he just walked out like that, not giving a shit that I didn’t tell him what I was doing tonight… He doesn’t care. He just wanted to fuck me. I think he just wanted to because he didn’t get to finish over the weekend.

  I’ve been watching you the past six months.

  Or maybe he’s just crazy.

  He probably won’t tell Alex, I assure myself. Besides, I stopped it. I stopped it, and nothing really happened. He won’t tell Alex, and me and Alex will be fine. Things are looking up anyway, even if he needs “space”. Lunch yesterday wasn’t all bad. Besides, we’ve weathered storms just like this before.

  Okay. Maybe not just like this. He’s never seen me on my knees sucking another guy’s dick like he did last week but it wasn’t exactly a secret that I’m not the faithful type. I told him when we first hooked up that I’d cheated on all my exes.

  Although I hadn’t with him. Up until that bullshit with Rihanna.

  I glance down at the bottle of tequila on the floor.

  Might as well enjoy the weekend.

  I take a few more shots.

  Throw back an Adderall.

  And then I pull out my phone.

  Since I deleted all of my social media accounts, all I’ve got are messages from my mother, reminding me, again, of her bullshit engagement party next weekend, to which I don’t
respond, a message from one of my friends back at ECU asking me if I want to drive down for a party tomorrow night, which I can’t because I don’t have a fucking car, and one from Alex. My fingers are shaky until I open the message. What if Eli told him already?

  But all it says is: What are you doing?

  I exhale a sigh of relief, but then glare at the words on the screen.

  I fucking hate “What are you doing” texts and he knows it. If he wants to fuck me, he should just say it.

  I chew my nail—a disgusting habit but probably my least bad one—and close my eyes a second. Should I tell him Eli came over?

  Should I tell Eli not to ever do that again?

  But what if I want him to do it again?

  And what if Alex asks me to come over and Eli gets home and it’s all weird and shit?

  But maybe Alex doesn’t even want to hang out. Maybe he’s still feeling bad about the video of my tits, or maybe he’s creeped out at the idea of spending Friday night alone in his house after Rihanna was found there, or maybe he just wants to humiliate me some more. Maybe he’s upset he’s missing the away game, or any number of scenarios.

  I don’t know.

  Maybe he’s having another party.

  I’m always down for free drinks—and more importantly, drugs—but I’ve got a guilty conscience and if I get wasted with him, what if I tell him what happened with Eli and then he gets mad that I didn’t tell him before?

  Fuck.

  But then again, I don’t relish the idea of spending my next few weekends alone. It’s why I like Alex so much. He’s always doing something. And he always wants to bring me along. He’s fun.

  Not shit. You? I reply.

  The tequila is really getting to my head now and I bypass the tiny kitchen table that serves as a divider between our kitchen and living room and sink down into the couch Mom’s boss gave us after she moved from one mansion to the next. Real estate is apparently a good business in North Carolina right now.

  I kick my feet up on the arm of the couch and hold my phone over my face, staring at my screen, waiting for Alex to reply.

  A small voice in the back of my head asks me what the fuck I’m doing. Alex and Eli are best friends.