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In the short week that I've known them both, they are constantly popping uppers, it's like they're in a constant state of hyperactivity. Which is not really my thing, I like to pass out and forget. Let my mind black out and relax for just a while. It's the only thing that seems to help.
Watching the girls throw back shots, passing me one each time they drink, and cheering like high pitched wolves when they toss them down the hatch. I feel included, for one of the first times in my life. And it's warm, inside my chest, the feeling of friendship, regardless of how deep it is, surface only. Although, I honestly don't know how we'll function when classes start tomorrow.
Regret clouds inside my head. I need to do well or Dad'll send me away again, to the place that's so much worse than here.
Still, I swallow down my drink, something fruity and spicy, and my limbs start to loosen, brain starts to melt. So when Bonnie and Emma each take one of my hands, I don't object as they pull me onto the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the room.
They sandwich me between them, rolling their hips against mine in some semblance of clothed sex that supposedly passes as dancing, but I don't care.
Heat thrums through my muscles, two sets of delicate hands resting lightly on my hips, their fingers locking together, holding me in place. I let the alcohol rush through me. Fall into my new friends' movements, and the three of us sway and move and grind together in the centre of all the other sweaty bodies doing the same.
Letting go.
It's all every therapist I've ever seen has ever told me. Every single one of them. It's like a chant that rings inside my head. Mockingly. Because I can't. I cannot let any of it fucking go.
Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.
My eyes snap open as the light feminine scents surrounding me are suddenly replaced with heavy imposing male ones. A swirling concoction of fresh orange and dense black pepper at my front. Weed, beer and a subtle sweetness like soft brown sugar at my back. And I realise immediately it's not my new roommate.
Lynx.
The one I knew I'd be getting this week, but had no idea it'd be a guy. I think there must be a mistake, they said co-ed dorms, not rooms. There's nothing I can do about it until tomorrow when the administration office reopens, and that's exactly where I'll be going when it does.
But then my eyes connect with King's grey ones. His hands close over my hips, his forefingers clamping onto the bare skin exposed between my jeans and crop top, and it's as though he's the accelerant to the raging inferno sparking beneath my skin.
That's when I feel the second pair of hands.
Rougher skin with thicker fingers lace through King's from behind, a tall silhouette falling over me, shadowing King's face as I twist my neck to look back.
Playful light green eyes stare at me from beneath wisps of ashy mocha coloured hair. A black nose ring stark against his white skin, hooked through his left nostril. Which flares as he dips down to the bare skin of my shoulder and sucks in a breath of me. His jaw is wide and square, his lips thin and pink, with flakey, tattooed snakes curling around his throat. I swallow hard, looking into the eyes of the man I verbally sparred with earlier.
Warm fingers flex on my waist, softer than the green eyed man's, drawing my attention back to King.
“You didn't let me introduce myself,” the guy at my back says when I’m no longer looking at him, sounding like he's pouting.
Dropping his chin onto my shoulder as both men close in on me, eradicating any sliver of space between us by plastering themselves to my front and back, all of their hot, hard edges cutting into my soft.
“I'm Rex,” he says huskily, teeth nipping at my earlobe.
Together, the heat of their naked upper halves burns my body. Sweat builds under my arms, beneath my hair at the nape of my neck, but their hold on me moves my hips, which had stilled when I felt their presence. Rotating and rolling me between them, moving me to the beat of the music, they dance with me, and neither one of them speaks. We just move in sync to the music, but even as we dance, Rex's chin on my shoulder, his breath sliding down my neck, I glance back to their friend.
Lynx watches us with what would be perceived as a blank look. Unfeeling. Cold. But it's his eyes, these pretty red chestnuts that flare with fire and darkness the longer he stares. The subtle clenching of his fingers against the top of the sofa cushions where he sits with his arms slung casually over the back of it.
I study him too, only little wisps of him are bright in my cloudy memory from earlier. His coaxing voice, his warm calmness despite my panic. The feel of his skin on mine, everything was hypersensitive, my goosebump rippled flesh, his rough fingers, the weight of his arms folding over my chest.
I wonder if he told his friends about me and that's why they're giving me their attention. It feels wrong. To be dancing with them both, in front of him, not even offering him my thanks, leaving him alone in my bed. All after he helped me and didn't have to. He could have left me. Pretended he saw nothing. But he was kind and calm and warm. He smiled and it might just have been the most genuine thing I've ever seen.
Soft fingers firm on my chin draw my attention back to King, his hand quickly dropping back to my waist. My eyes fix on hissteely dark grey ones peering into mine like he can bore his way into my soul if he just stares hard enough.
I lick my lips, my mouth dry, head fuzzy, and finally bring my hands up to his tattooed chest, splaying my fingers over his hard, tattooed pecs. His nostrils flare at my touch, thick, black lashes fluttering over his pretty, dangerous eyes and it feels as though he moves in even closer, despite us already touching. Everywhere.
Chin tilted up, angled a little to the left, giving Rex more space to nuzzle his face into the crook of my neck. I feel his lips pull up, pressing a hidden smirk into the side of my throat.
“Eyes on me when my hands are on you, Princess,” King husks and a tremor rips its way up my spine like his words are tearing the bone straight from my flesh. “Lynx is just jealous,” he murmurs lowly, a sinister smirk pulling at his lips as he flicks his teasing gaze in his friend's direction.
“He wishes he were us, Kitten,” Rex says directly into my ear, his teeth latching onto my lobe and making me shudder. “He might even wish he was you,” he chuckles darkly, his mocking laughter vibrating through tendon and bone as he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat.
Licking a stripe up the length of my neck with the flat of his tongue, his teeth relatching onto my pierced lobe. He flicks his tongue, just dipping inside the shell of my ear, his tongue bar sending a chill down my spine. He huffs a laugh against my flesh making me tremble in response before his teeth find more places on my neck to mark.
