Come Back to Me

by Mila Gray

  ‘Where’s Jessa?’ Riley asks, his expression stony. ‘I got her a drink.’

  ‘I think she’s in the bathroom,’ Didi says. ‘I’ll take that if it’s going, though,’ she says, snatching the drink from Riley’s hand.

  Riley is still glaring at me. Catching the tension between us, Didi backs away. ‘I’m going to go find her,’ she says. She cuts me a panicked, apologetic look over Riley’s shoulder before she disappears back inside.

  ‘Dude,’ Riley says the moment she’s gone. ‘Aren’t you fucking some other girl?’

  ‘I’m not fucking anyone,’ I spit back at him, furious for reasons I can’t even decipher.

  ‘Well, don’t screw around with Didi. She’s too good for you.’

  His words hit me like a punch to the gut and I take a half-step backwards. Did he really just say that? ‘What’s that mean?’ I ask, aware that my voice sounds calm, though inside my anger’s brewing dangerously.

  ‘Nothing,’ says Riley, seeming to realize what he just said. He shoots me an apologetic shrug, but I’m not about to let it go.

  ‘No. I’m serious,’ I press. ‘What do you mean? You don’t think I’m good enough for her?’

  Riley slaps me on the shoulder trying to be all buddy-buddy. ‘She’s eighteen. And she’s probably never had a boyfriend before. She doesn’t need some major player fucking with her and then dropping her when the next piece of ass comes along.’

  ‘Nice,’ I say. ‘You think that’s what I’d do?’

  Riley looks at me like he doesn’t get why I’m so mad at him. ‘That’s what you always do. You’ve never had a girlfriend before, Kit. I’m just telling it like it is.’

  ‘A guy can change,’ I say, grinding my teeth. ‘What if I told you I’m dating someone and that I really like her?’

  Riley laughs at me like I just cracked a hilarious joke. ‘If you really liked her you wouldn’t be here tonight making out with Didi. That’s exactly what I’m talking about, bro.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea to be Didi’s date. It was your girlfriend’s. I was doing her and Jessa a favour. I’m not into Didi. And we weren’t making out.’ I don’t care if I’m blowing our cover – I’m so mad I can hardly see straight.

  ‘Yeah? Not what it looked like,’ Riley smirks. ‘And she definitely looks like she’s into you.’

  ‘It’s not what you think.’ For a moment I almost come clean and tell him the truth but his words are still smarting. Fuck him. Riley’s my best friend, but right now I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

  ‘I’m going to check out the DJ,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe you could find Jessa. I think she’d like to spend some time with her brother while he’s back. She misses you.’ With that parting shot I leave. He claims I wouldn’t make a good boyfriend, but he’s not exactly winning any prizes in the brother stakes.

  I head back inside, my fists clenched with anger, my jaw tight. I told Riley to look for Jessa because I’m too mad to speak to anyone right now. I don’t want to ruin her prom. I already acted like a possessive jerk. Problem was I just couldn’t help it when I saw that guy looking at her like he wanted to dip her in hot sauce and eat her. I’ve never felt such a wave of possessiveness like that before about anyone. I probably shouldn’t have introduced myself as her boyfriend, but what the hell else was I going to do? Let him flirt with her in front of me? Fuck. I hate this. I hate this pretending. And I hate Riley for making me question whether I’m good enough for his sister. I think about what my dad said, about telling him and her father. It’s easy for him to say.

  I head through the press on the dance floor, my feet carrying me towards the double doors that lead to the stairs and down to the lobby. I just want some quiet. There are couples making out like we’re in some seedy lap-dancing club and a pile of sticky vomit on the stairs, so I head the other way towards the emergency exit.

  This stairwell is blissfully free of both vomit and people. I figure I’ll just head to the ground floor and take a quick walk to get my shit together before I head back inside, but halfway down the stairs I run slap bang into another couple making out with the kind of abandon that suggests they’ve forgotten they’re in a public place. Was my prom like this? I don’t remember. I was too busy getting laid in the back of my truck. With my head down I creep past them as silently as possible, but just as I pass them I hear the girl whimper. I whip back around.

  The guy has her pressed against the wall, her dress is rucked up, and I can see her underwear. The guy is holding her around the waist with one arm and tackling his belt with the other.

  ‘Get off,’ the girl mumbles.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ the guy slurs. ‘Why else did you invite me?’

  ‘I said stop,’ the girl says again, her voice infused with fear.

  That does it for me. I grab the guy by the back of the collar and haul him off her, hurling him against the handrail. I grab a handful of his shirt and hold him in place, half hanging over the stairwell.

  ‘She told you to stop,’ I growl.

  The guy holds up both hands. ‘I wasn’t doing anything,’ he says.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand form a fist and come flying towards me. I duck his punch, still keeping hold of him, and throw him against the wall, my fist slamming into his gut.

  He folds over instantly. The guy looks like a football player but his instincts are dulled by liquor. He stumbles forward then tries to rush me. I stick my leg out and trip him, then follow through with a right hook to his jaw. He crumples to the ground and starts moaning. This is just one of the reasons I don’t drink, I think to myself wryly. I’ve never touched a drop of alcohol in my life, other than a beer when I was fourteen. I made a vow to myself after seeing my dad almost drink himself to death that I wouldn’t ever follow in his footsteps, and in situations like this I’m doubly grateful.

  I turn to the girl, take her hand and pull her up a few steps, out of his way.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says.

  I turn to her for the first time. She’s pulling the sleeve of her dress back up and wiping away tears, her mascara smudged down her face.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I say, running my eyes down her dress to see if it was torn or if she’s bleeding. She looks OK, just a little drunk and a little shaken up. ‘You want me to show you back upstairs?’ I ask.

  She smiles at me and nods, and we start heading back upstairs. I shoot one last look at the guy to make sure he isn’t planning on a sneak attack, but he’s now rolled onto his side and is clutching his stomach, looking like he’s about to vomit.

  ‘I’m Serena, by the way,’ the girl says to me as I open the door for her.

  ‘Kit,’ I say.

  ‘Thanks, Kit,’ she says, pausing, then kissing me on the cheek.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, wondering at how quickly she’s moved from crying to flirting. ‘No problem.’

  ‘There you are!’

  I look up. It’s Jessa. She’s walking towards me and I can tell by the puzzled look on her face that she just saw Serena kissing me. Crap.

  ‘Hey, Serena,’ she says with a frosty smile.

  ‘Hi, Jessa,’ Serena says, looking from one to the other and figuring it out. ‘Oh, is this your date?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessa says firmly, coming to stand by me.

  Serena smiles at her a little ruefully. ‘You got a good one, Jessa, hold on to him,’ she says.

  Jessa’s mouth does this cute little pout and her brow furrows with confusion as she watches Serena walk away.

  ‘What was that about?’ I ask her.

  ‘What was what about?’ she asks, turning to face me.

  ‘Were you jealous?’ I ask, trying not to laugh.

  Jessa’s cheeks flush. ‘I just saw you walk out of a stairwell with Serena Riddell, the girl voted most likely to become a porn star, and watched her kiss you on the cheek.’

  ‘You are jealous,’ I say, laughing. ‘It’s very hot, by the way. Keep it up.’

  ‘What were you doing?�
�� she asks, still pouting.

  ‘I was going for some air and I ran into your friend Serena—’

  ‘She’s not my friend,’ Jessa mumbles.

  ‘—being mauled by some guy in the stairwell.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Jessa’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I punched him.’

  ‘You punched him?’

  ‘Would you rather I let him rape her?’

  Jessa stares at me, her expression morphing into righteous indignation. ‘I hope you punched him in the balls.’

  I smile at her. ‘He won’t be walking for a while,’ I say.

  Jessa smiles at me – a smile that makes all my anger about Riley evaporate in an instant. Her eyes are strikingly green, made more so by the blue of the dress, and right now she’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel like I’m more than good enough.

  24

  Jessa

  It’s around midnight when Didi bounces up to me and announces there’s an after-party at Serena’s house. Riley, who, to give him credit, has made an effort in the last four hours to at least look like he’s having fun, shakes his head.

  ‘I have to go. Jo’s waiting.’

  ‘Well,’ Didi says, sliding her arm through his. ‘Thank you so much for being my date.’

  Riley looks down at her with a bemused expression on his face. ‘Your date?’ he asks.

  Didi hiccups. How much punch did she have? ‘I mean, Jessa’s date. Obviously Jessa’s date.’

  I press my heel into her foot to shut her up.

  ‘Are you going to go to this party?’ Riley asks Kit in a pointed way.

  Kit looks at me. ‘Um, I don’t know. I could drive them there. At least I’m sober.’

  ‘That would be awesome,’ I say, grinning at him, though I have no intention of going to a party at Serena’s house.

  Riley glares at Kit but then kisses me goodbye and heads off.

  ‘Are you two really coming?’ Didi asks. ‘You don’t have to, you know. I can get a ride with Stephanie. She’s leaving now.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be staying at yours tonight,’ I remind her.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll figure something out,’ Didi says, grinning at me.

  Kit takes my hand without a word and leads me down the stairs to the lobby. I think maybe we’re going to head outside and grab a taxi, head somewhere like the beach, but instead he walks brazenly up to the reception desk. In his suit, with his dark hair and perfectly sculpted body, he looks like a model in a Dior aftershave advertisement, and I let him pull me along, getting a brief thrill from the looks and the murmurs we’re attracting from my school friends waiting for taxis in the lobby as they see us pass.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the perfectly made-up girl behind the desk asks.

  ‘Your best suite, please,’ Kit says.

  ‘What?’ I almost shriek. I pull on his arm. ‘What are you doing?’ I hiss.

  He turns away from the receptionist. ‘I’m getting us a room.’

  ‘What?’

  Before I can stop him he’s pulling out his wallet and slapping a card down on the counter. I grab it before the girl can. ‘That’s ridiculous. It’s like a thousand dollars a night here.’

  ‘It’s three thousand five hundred dollars a night for the Presidential Suite,’ the girl says with a tight, smug smile.

  I make an I told you so face.

  ‘You’re worth it,’ he responds, grabbing for his card.

  I hold it behind my back and pull him away from the desk. ‘Kit,’ I whisper, ‘I’m not letting you spend that on a hotel room.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asks.

  ‘Because.’ I take a breath. ‘If you spend that much on a room I feel like you’ll expect something . . . ’ I look away. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with him. I do. It’s just that I hadn’t planned on it being tonight.

  ‘Woah, Jessa.’ Kit takes my face in his hands and tips my head up so he can look me in the eyes. The expression on his face is deadly serious. ‘That’s not what I intended. If all we do is spend the night watching comedy channel reruns, I’ll be happy. I just want to hang out with you. We have a whole night, for once.’

  I look back at him, trying to read if that’s the full truth.

  ‘I promise you.’ He kisses me on the tip of my nose. ‘I’m fine with just mentally undressing you,’ he whispers.

  I smack him on the arm. ‘Who says it has to be mental?’ I say, pulling him back to the counter.

  I convince Kit not to get the Presidential Suite – we don’t need a living room and salon, after all – but the woman behind the desk upgrades us to a Deluxe Suite with a sly wink, and when we open the door to the room we both turn to stare at each other before Kit sweeps me up into his arms, kicks the door shut with his foot and carries me over to the enormous bed.

  He lays me down gently before standing up to pull off his tie and jacket. He folds them over the back of the chair and then walks to the end of the bed and slides off my shoes, putting them down on the floor. I watch him, my chest rising and falling fast as my heart starts to race. He looks up and gives me a small smile, and something tugs at me. I’m suddenly nervous as hell, even though I know we’re not going to have sex.

  Kit comes and lies beside me. He places his hand on my waist, and for half a minute we just watch each other, lying on our sides, face to face. My breathing speeds up and butterflies cluster in my stomach. The look he’s fixing me with is pure desire, but it’s laced with something more, something deeper and more intense that makes my heart expand as though it’s trying to squeeze past the bars of my ribs. He wants me, but he’s also letting me know that he’s happy with just this, that this is enough for him.

  I place my hand on his cheek and trace his cheekbone and his jaw. He presses his lips to my palm and takes my hand, kissing my wrist and then slowly dropping kisses all the way up to my elbow. Little shivers shoot up my arm and neck. I close my eyes and draw in a breath as his lips brush my shoulder and he eases down the strap of my dress before tracing a line along my collarbone and neck.

  Finally he reaches my lips and kisses me, slowly, tenderly. There’s a fire in my belly and it spreads out, flames licking down my legs. A gentle throbbing echoes out from my core as his hands start slowly exploring their way down my body, following the curve of my hip and running down to my thigh. I roll against him, pushing my body against his, wanting to feel the hardness of his chest, the weight of him on top of me, but Kit takes my wrist and pins me flat to the bed, not with any force but enough to let me know he’s taking control.

  ‘Tonight,’ he says, looking down at me, ‘is all about you. I just want you to lie here and let me take care of you.’

  I can’t speak – my heart is beating too fast and my lungs won’t fill with air.

  ‘I want you to know what you mean to me, OK?’

  I try to protest but he cuts me off. ‘And if I’m going too fast, or you want me to stop, at any point for whatever reason, just say. OK?’

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  He leans over me once more and starts kissing me gently, his tongue twining with mine, teasing and sure, and after a while I relax, sighing as I sink into the bed. He nudges my head to one side and moves his attention to the spot just beneath my ear that he knows makes me squirm. His hands begin to wander down my dress. The satin feels like cool water flowing against my body, but Kit’s hands sear heat through it, making me feverish, my skin so sensitive to the touch, it hurts. He sweeps his hand over my breast, surprising me, and I arch up with a cry, my nipple hardening.

  He pulls the strap of my dress down and takes it in his mouth and I have to clutch the sheets to hold myself down. His tongue traces patterns across my skin and I let go of the sheets and run my fingers through his hair, gripping him by the shoulders as he sucks harder, making my stomach muscles contract tight and a low throb start up between my legs.

  Kit sits up and pulls
me up with him so we’re both kneeling on the bed. I start undoing his shirt and he watches me the whole time, a strange look on his face, like he’s having to fight every instinct in his body not to pick me up in his arms and toss me back onto the bed.

  When I strip his shirt off and place my palms on his chest he doesn’t make any move, but his arms are locked tight by his sides and the muscles in his neck are taut as a bow. I lean forward and kiss him, breathing in deep, tasting his skin, but after a few moments he pulls back.

  ‘Can I undress you?’ he asks.

  I nod, nerves making me gulp in breaths which makes my head spin.

  Kit reaches towards my knees and takes hold of the hem of my dress. Slowly he starts lifting it, running his palms along my thighs as he does. I lift my arms in the air and he slides my dress up and over my head. I keep my eyes closed, embarrassed and a little self-conscious. I’m kneeling in front of him, almost naked, and I can feel his eyes on me, as warm as his hands.

  ‘Open your eyes,’ I hear him say.

  I do. He’s looking right at me. He takes my face in his hand and kneels closer. ‘You are so goddamn sexy, I could just look at you all night.’ He brushes my lips with his and then lowers me to the bed.

  I’m so taut with expectation, so painfully, deliciously on edge, that when Kit starts stroking his hands across my stomach and breasts I think I’m going to burst into flames. Every time I try to reach for him he brushes my hand away. ‘It’s just about you, remember,’ he murmurs, a smile in his voice.

  He spends an age just stroking my stomach, caressing my breasts, dropping kisses on every inch of me . . . except for the one place I’m desperate for him to touch. I’m still wearing my underwear and I’m aching for him, so turned on that I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down on top of me, desperate to feel his weight on top of me, to feel him next to me skin to skin. He groans and tries to pull away, but I hold on tight.

  ‘I want you,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ he answers. ‘Not tonight.’

  ‘Please,’ I hear myself say, and I can’t believe I’m begging. My skin is burning, my eyes are burning, thoughts evaporate in my head faster than they arrive. I can’t think straight, I just know that there’s nothing I want more right now than Kit. I need him.