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And I, I don't know this girl, she doesn't know me. Are there lines here that I don't know about, trauma, fears, unwanted touch?
The sounds scratching their way up her windpipe sound borderline painful and without thinking any further, I step between her legs, drop down into a crouch and take her trembling chin between my thumb and finger.
I almost flinch. Her soft skin is like ice, her teeth stop chattering as my pinch on her face hardens just a little. Firm but not rough, enough to keep her grounded.
“What did you take, Poppy?” I ask her gently, smoothing my thumb over the round curve of her chin.
“Pp-pills.”
I smile at her. Something that feels a little foreign on my face, especially around strangers but I haven't really had much to feel too smiley about lately.
“You know what kinda pills?” I ask, thinking of all the shit pushed out everywhere across campus.
She nods mutely. An eyebrow lifting on my forehead, I wait for her to speak.
“Ecstasy,” it's mumbled and slow, a drawl.
Okay, I can deal with that, unless, “Just one?” I ask quietly.
Canting my head, lifting my gaze onto her pretty features crowded beneath her curtain of hair, thick bangs in her eyes.
She shakes her head unevenly like it's too heavy for her shoulders even though I'm still gripping her chin.
“Two.”
Fuck.
I blow out a breath, wiping my hands over my jean-clad kneecaps.
Water is the first thing on my mind, but you can overhydrate on stimulants, so I'll need to monitor it. Scanning the space, I quickly locate the mini fridge meant for both of us to share and slowly release her face from my hold.
Opening the refrigerator, there's a couple waters, a bag of grapes and not much else. I kick the door closed with the heel of my foot and just in time to dart back across the short space, catching Poppy before she falls forwards, off of the end of the bed. Dropping the water to the floor, one hand supporting her shoulder, the other on the base of her throat. She mumbles incoherently, head still hanging forward and I think I'm just in over my head here, what if she's got more? What if this is the start of my failure again?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She breathes hard, saying something I don't catch, my hands supporting her entire body weight now. I lean in, tipping her head back a little, still supporting her so she doesn't hurt herself.
“Hold me,” it's a murmured request, but also not really a question, more like an offering of information so I know how to help.
It feels strange, knowing I'm the same way. Always needing one of the boys to keep me in their arms when I'm out of it like this. Some people hate the skin to skin contact when they feel like they've stepped off of the edge of the world, everything too sensitive and tingly it makes touch feel painful, but I need it to ground me. And apparently, Poppy does too.
Vibration in my pocket draws my attention, and I know it'll be one of them. I drag my gaze back up to her eyes, the lilac-blue bright like amethyst as she blinks up at me.
“Okay, Poppy,” I shift my feet a little wider, smooth my hand around to the back of her neck, supporting her droopy head bycupping her nape. “I'm going to shift you back on the bed, and then I'll lie with you, if that's what you want?” I make sure she's looking right at me when I ask, those pretty eyes captivating me, glassy and wide, pupils blown.
She nods.
Then I'm smoothing her wet jacket off of her narrow shoulders. Revealing her loose, long sleeved, black shirt, the neckline just grazing her collarbones. Tossing the light outerwear over onto the other bed, still supporting her with one arm. I'm careful not to touch her anywhere that could be deemed inappropriate. The last fucking thing I need is some girl saying I touched her without permission. That'd really set my mother off.
Once I've got her propped up against the pillows that I haphazardly stack one handedly, I gently release my hold on her bicep, her skin hot and damp beneath the thin cotton of her shirt. Her teeth chatter, rattling in her gums, dry lips pale.
Unlacing and sliding her boots off of her stripey socked feet, I let them thud to the floor as I dip down to retrieve the water bottle I dropped. Condensation wets my palm, the inside of my fingers as I curl my hand around it.
It’s a welcome feeling, the wet cold in my hand, I feel hot, clammy, as I pause. Watching her. Sweat beads along my temples, at the edges of my untidy bleached blond hair, and my heart thuds harder in my chest. She looks like a messy fucking wet dream. Her eyes are on me, something that should be creepy, the way her eyes are unblinking, but it doesn't really feel like that at all.
Cautiously, I step towards her, swallowing as my fingers tighten around the water bottle, cracking the plastic top free and offering it up to her.
Stepping into her until I'm crouching down to her level, my free hand reaching out, the back of it caressing her cheek.
