by Sydney Lane
Jenna is beautiful. I suspect her blonde hair, long, tanned legs, and contagious laughter draw guys in wherever she goes. When she stands, I realize she's almost as tall as me. Quincy is tiny. There is no other word for it. Tiny... and stunning. She has long dark hair, dark brown eyes, and a way of looking at you that makes you feel special. She's beautiful in a natural way, the kind that makes you jealous if you look too long. Corrine, also tiny but blonde, fits in well with these girls.
And the guys... well, they speak for themselves.
Eric is beautiful, blonde perfection. There's no denying that he's hot, but he's a little on the pretty side for me. Seth is gorgeous- a foul-mouthed, muscle-wrapped box of pure, unadulterated sex. His sandy blonde curls, tattoos, and deep, gritty voice drop panties all over campus. I've heard all about his exploits and then some. Brody is more my type. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, tattoos, and mystery, but deep down, he just doesn't do anything for me. That's surprising because he's exactly the kind of guy I've been hooking up with lately.
Finally, my eyes are drawn to the guy at the end of the table, the one I've been avoiding. Totally not my type. Today, he's wearing a baseball cap pulled low, shadowing his eyes. I know them to be brown, ringed with long, dark lashes. His lips are full and pink. Perfect for kissing. Today, he's dressed down. Instead of his normal polo and khakis, he has on a t-shirt and torn jeans. Hot.
No, not my type at all.
"That's Declan," Quincy leans close to me, whispering in my ear. My cheeks grow hot, and probably pink, when I realize I've been caught. Declan. Great. Now I have a name to put with the face that haunts me. "He's a great guy."
"I'm sure he is." I shrug my shoulders and look at anyone but her. It takes every ounce of self-restraint I have to keep from asking her if he's so damn great, why she isn't with him.
A great guy. That's what I was afraid of. I don't need a great guy because frankly, they scare me more than the dickheads do.
The whole scene is starting to get to me.
All around me, people are falling in love or lust or something semi-regular. Corrine and Seth have been hooking up off and on for a while now, and even though she denies it, I can tell her heart's in it. Her eyes say it all- she wants more than he's willing to give. I think it's safe to say that Seth Henley will break her heart.
Me? I'm not afraid of getting my heart broken.
I'm afraid I'll find out I don't have one.
Chapter 7
Declan
Eric and Jenna invited me over to watch a movie with them. Seriously??? Like I need to hang out with them? Be the third wheel? Be reminded that the girl I want is with someone else? No thanks. I know I've not been myself lately, but damn... they invited me to go to the movies with them. That's harsh.
This has been my home for two years- this house, these guys- yet it feels so foreign sometimes. Nothing is the same. I guess you could say that's my own fault. I was the one who made the decision to keep everything quiet. When the truth came out, I could've had Brody blackballed. Out. Gone. Instead, my knee jerk reaction was driven by the simple fact that I wanted to protect her. In hindsight, I think I was the only one on the planet that didn't see the way Quincy and Brody looked at each other. Hell, even I noticed that Brody had been going through a dry spell. The guy who had screwed his way through three sororities suddenly had no interest in the girls who offered their, umm, services.
I was just too stupid, too blind to see the writing on the wall.
For the last two weeks, I've spent most of my time with the unlikeliest of suspects- Seth. He doesn't treat me differently. He doesn't feel sorry for me. And most importantly, he doesn't let me feel sorry for me.
As it happens, we're sitting in my room discussing our plans for tonight. I really don't feel like going out, but there's only so much time I can spend in this house before I go crazy.
"Don't forget that Eric needs us to help him move this weekend. I'm gonna round up some pledges to help, and they're having an after party. You wanna go?" That's just one more thing I like about Seth. He doesn't care where we hang out as long as he gets drunk and gets laid, and he doesn't force the issue when I just want to get away from everything.
"I plan on it." What I don't tell him is that helping Eric move is the last thing I want to do. "I still can't believe he's moving in with Jenna. Do people even do that anymore?" I ask, incredulously.
"What? Shack up? Hell yeah, man! That's the only way to do it. The whole try the milk before you buy the whole cow theory, you know what I mean? I used to mess with this girl back home. She was so fuckin' hot. I mean, she had the tightest ass, and man, she could give a mean blo-" He stops abruptly, clearing his throat before continuing. "Well, anyway, I passed out at her apartment one night, and the next morning, I woke up with fuckin' Cruella De Vil. I mean, hell, I didn't even recognize her without her face paint. It was scary as hell. So, yeah, you take a test drive before you buy the car."
"Man, that's just wrong," I chuckle, shaking my head. I really don't know how he gets by in life.
"True story."
"So where's Quincy going?" There's something inside of me that can't help wanting to take care of her. Old habits die hard. Just because I can't have her doesn't mean I don't care.
"You sure you wanna know?" He peers at me over his red Solo cup as he finishes yet another beer. A tight knot forms in my stomach. No, I'm not sure I want to know, but I nod anyway. "With Brody. They got an apartment next door to Eric and Jenna."
"Good for them." My voice sounds distant, familiar yet foreign at the same time.
It takes everything I have not to react. I sit perfectly still as I try to hold myself in check. I've seen them together- her smiling up at him, laughing with him, his hands on her body, his eyes following her as she walks through the room. It sucks having it thrown in my face, but you know what's worse than watching them? Knowing he'll fall asleep with her in his arms and she'll be the first thing he sees every morning. Knowing she's forever out of my reach. My worst nightmare coming to life.
They say that your imagination is usually worse than reality, but I'm not so sure.
"Yeah, well. You know what I say? Good for you. Now, get off your ass and get moving. Best way to get over being thrown is gettin' back in the saddle." He slaps his palms against his thighs before standing. At the door, he turns and smiles over his shoulder. "And there are lots of saddles out there."
I want to believe I can move on, but I feel so deflated.
They'll be living together. That just feels so final. Done. Permanent. The end.
A feeling I've never known before, never had a reason to know, comes over me. It hurts. It pains me to my very core, and I struggle to find a name for it. Sad? It feels like so much more than that. Depressed? It doesn't even compare. Heartbroken? Yes, shattered.
Grief.
Yeah, that's it. Grief that slices through me like a knife. It cuts through my memories, dirtying and questioning all that I thought I knew. It sneaks up on me when I least expect it, catching me at vulnerable moments, reminding me that she will never be a part of my life again. It reminds me of those times we spent laughing and talking, and it also shouts that it was a lie.
Isn't grief about missing someone? Isn't it that huge, gaping hole left in your life? Every time I think of Quincy, that hole is more obvious, and it feels as if it grows a little more each day. She's not there, and she's not ever going to be. I mourn the death of what might have been.
I pour a shot of Crown and throw it back. At this rate, I'm going to be a raging alcoholic.
I have no idea who'll be the DD then.
Chapter 8
Eliza
He's seriously messing with my head. I was just minding my own business when he walked in. I swear I wasn't looking for him. He's just so damn tall, I couldn't miss him.
The cocky jerk I'm talking to doesn't even notice when I stop listening to him, his hands gripping my hips as his fingers dig into my ass. Guys like him only have one t
hing on their mind, and it's not getting to know you better. They don't give a shit about you, who you are, nothing that should matter. They just want to get off any way they can, and I don't blame them. Mindless, emotionless sex is exactly what I need. It's what I know.
I watch as Declan leans against the bar¸ ordering another drink. It's obvious, even from here, that he's wasted. He tilts his head back, slamming a shot, his eyes wandering around the bar. His whole body tenses when Brody and Quincy walk by. It's painful to watch, his feelings evident on his beautiful, sculpted face.
Longing. Pain. Heartbreak. I don't understand why, but I'm envious. To hurt is to feel, and that's something I can't afford to do.
Jerk-off leans in, whispering in my ear, "You ready to go?" His breath is hot on my neck and smells of cigarettes and beer. Not exactly attractive but nothing I haven't dealt with before.
"Not yet, big boy. I need another drink." I take his wrists, prying his hands off my ass, and back away. I need a few more drinks before I can get into this. I don't sugarcoat what I do. I know it's pathetic, possibly even unhealthy, but it's how I cope. No excuses. No rationalizations.
People handle things differently, especially tragic things- things normal people can't imagine, not even in their darkest dreams. Some people let it break them, becoming afraid of life itself. Others, like me, lash out at the world around them, fighting for every breath they take. And then there are the others, the ones who just simply forget, a convenient sort of amnesia, like a distant memory they never truly grasp hold of. Oh, those people are the ones I envy.
I remember everything. Every. Single. Detail.
Jerk-off hands me a drink, and I look at him, really look at him, for the first time. Sure, he's good-looking, but there's nothing there. He wants something. I want something. It's a mutual thing, a symbiotic relationship.
I can't help myself. I search for Declan, finding him immediately, as if my body is constantly aware of him. He's wearing a pink polo shirt with khaki shorts. I almost smile. The pink perfectly contrasts with his dark skin, glowing in the dim lighting. It looks good on him. It also says a lot about him. A man who wears pink has to be comfortable in his own skin.
My eyes travel down his lithe body, taking in his solid chest, narrow waist, and long, tanned legs. He's perfect, really.
"I'm gonna go take a leak. Be ready to go when I get back." I cringe when Jerk-off leans close, kissing my cheek over my drink. His breath hasn't gotten any better, despite the gum in his mouth. His hand slides down my back, squeezing my ass before he brushes past me.
I had every intention of leaving with this guy, but then my eyes meet his again. I feel such an intense draw that I do the totally unexpected. Before I'm aware of what I'm doing, I'm walking in his direction. His dark eyes beckon me, an undeniable force reaching into my chest and pulling me toward him.
He casually leans against the bar with his elbows supporting him. He watches me, his eyes never leaving mine. He seems different, more confident, since the last time I saw him.
"Damn, girl! You look good enough to eat." Seth Henley pulls me into a bear hug, lifting my feet off the ground as he swings me around in a circle.
"Don't I always?" I laugh, trying not to spill my drink. When he lowers me to the ground, I sway toward him, my hand planted firmly on his chest. Seth is hot in a rugged way. He's built like a brick shithouse, all muscles and brawn, and he's totally off limits. Any possibility of that died the day he started screwing my roommate.
"Abso-fuckin-lutely!" He slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. I smile, turning to his friend. This is the closest I've ever been to him, and he looks even better up close. The air feels alive, a living heartbeat pulsing between us. "Dec, this is my girl, Liza. She's good people." For a brief second, a flicker of interest flits across his face before his wall comes crashing into place.
"Declan." He reaches for my hand like a gentleman would, a glaring reminder that he's not the type of guy I'm looking for. But when his hand engulfs mine, the world tilts sideways and time stands still. I shiver as goosebumps tease my arms, my body suddenly, totally aware.
He holds on for a moment longer than necessary, and I finally drop my hand to my side, dumbfounded by the sudden, intense feelings churning inside of me.
Seth pushes me closer to him, yelling, "I see Corrine. Be right back." He mouths something over my head to Declan, but I'm drunk and can't read lips for shit.
I stumble forward, laughing as Declan catches me in his arms. I'm 5'10", and I can't do men who are shorter than me. It's a deal breaker, not that I hang around long enough for it to matter, but it's the principle of it.
Declan is several inches taller than me (another plus), and I have to look up to see his eyes. They are so dark and bottomless, it feels as if he's staring right into my own soul. It rattles my cage, setting off an alarm that I choose to ignore.
Alcohol is weird like that. It has a way of blunting certain emotions while enhancing others. Like right now, his hands burn my body, his touch lingering even after he releases me. My senses are heightened as I take in his clean, male scent and notice the dimples that hug his smile. But that little voice in the back of my head is silent, or drunk like me. Definitely drunk. I'm vaguely aware that I was supposed to stay away from him... but for the life of me, I can't remember why.
"You okay?" His voice is soft yet deep, sweet yet sexy. He slowly backs away, almost as if he's reluctant to let me go. Hell, I don't want him to let me go.
"I am now." I smile, flirting with the danger staring back at me.
"Glad I could help." His smile is warm, inviting, and quite unlike anything I've ever seen. "So, Liza, I have a question." I'm so stupid. I walk right into his trap. Arching an eyebrow, I wait for it. "Why have you been watching me all night?"
"I was trying to make up my mind." In my book, honesty is the best policy.
"About what?" He looks down at me, lowering his head so he can hear me, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect lips.
"If you're too nice for me." I have to admit that while his tight polo shirt and khakis aren't what I usually go for, they are working hard to change my mind. I briefly wonder if he at least wears sexy underwear. Maybe he doesn't wear any at all.
"And?" He smirks, challenging me, his eyes suddenly darker.
"I think you might be." I'm totally serious, the first signs of warning finally penetrating my vodka-induced fog.
"So you like bad boys?" His smile falters, a hint of weariness hidden in the depths of his eyes. I can only nod, mesmerized by his voice. "What makes you think I'm not naughty?"
Naughty? Oh, I love that word coming from his mouth.
I sway as I look up at him, suddenly unstable on my feet. Catching me, he pulls me to him, his arms encircling my waist. Leaning against the bar, he doesn't let me go, even though I can clearly stand on my own.
"Are you? Naughty?" I almost choke on the word, my eyes suddenly trained on his lips, wondering exactly what he could do with them. He suddenly stands straighter, setting me back on my feet, away from him, and rakes his hand over the top of his head.
"Hey, I need to go. You want me to walk you home?" I can tell by the expression on his face that he really means 'walk me home' when he says that. It's not code for 'wanna go get freaky?' like I'm used to.
Home? No. That is definitely not what I want. I see Jerk-off weaving his way through the crowd, looking for me, and I grab Declan's hand, pulling him along behind me. All of a sudden, a night on that guy's couch with a few minutes of rutting no longer appeals to me.
"Let's go!" I yell over my shoulder, wishing he was asking something different but knowing it's for the best. I head straight for the stairs, the loud music and heat closing in on me.
I push open the large metal doors, taking a deep breath as we step out into the warm night air. It's after midnight, and this isn't how my nights usually end.
Releasing his hand, I begin walking in the direction of my dorm. I walk quickly, turning
the corner into an alley, needing to put some distance between us. I'm startled when he reaches for my shoulder, stopping me, and steps in front of me.
"Liza, is something wrong? I didn't mean..." He rubs his hand over his dark, cropped hair once more as he takes a step back.
"It's fine. I'm just drunk, and I need to get out of here." I'm defensive. Rejection settles in the pit of my stomach. It's not something I'm used to, and I hate it. I mean really, really hate it.
"Liza." His voice is low and steady but commanding. I look up, finding him just as conflicted as I am. He takes two, small steps closer to me, and I retreat, until my back is against the hard concrete wall. When he's standing directly in front of me, his chest heaving and his voice breathless, he whispers, "I'm going to be naughty now."
He leans down, a hand tilting my chin up to his. For a moment, the world stands still, and then, his mouth crashes into mine. His hands find my waist and lift me up, pressing my back into the wall. The kiss is hard, and sexy, and raw, and I can't fight it. I don't want to.
I raise my legs, wrapping them shamelessly around his waist, unable to get close enough. His hardness fits tightly against me, the friction pure torture. I'm aware that my skirt is above my hips and someone could see us at any moment, but I can't make myself care.
There's nothing but his tongue pushing its way into my mouth, his fingers gripping my thighs, and his heart pounding against mine. Nothing but him.
Nothing else matters.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, I deepen the kiss, our teeth clashing together, desperate, hungry for more. He groans, devouring my lips with his own. Abruptly, he pulls away, leaving me stunned as our chests heave between us. For several long moments, we stare into each other's eyes and struggle to catch our breaths.
He breaks the silence first. "How did I do?" His mouth is so close to mine, the words vibrate across my lips, his breath teasing my cheek.
"Perfect."
"Do you wanna go somewhere?" This time, I know he means something different. And this... this is what I can handle.
