Some days are worse than others.
Like tonight.
The ghosts from my past claw their way back, the weight of them pinning me to this couch. They already linger in my mind, but Seb has made it more complicated. Since he found out I was leaving, he's been all over the place—fingering me in the stairway, then ignoring me the next day—and quite frankly, I'm over the fucking mind games.
Taking a hit from a joint, a burning sensation I’ve become all too familiar with fills my lungs. It’s an addiction I’ve tried to shake off, but the pull is too strong. It’s the one thing making this life somewhat tolerable.
As the smoke swirls inside my lungs, my body starts to relax. It’s as if the high reaches out and soothes every nerve, every muscle, and every bone—even with the shitty music washing over my ears.
My eyes scan the room, automatically finding the person I’m trying to avoid, like usual. His piercing honey-colored eyes stand out, captivating anyone who gazes into them. His complexion is smooth and flawless, with a straight nose and well-shaped eyebrows framing his eyes, adding to his rugged charm. In other words, he’s walking perfection. He's like the guard dog—the one everyone is afraid of, and with good reason.
And I hate that I still notice every fucking thing about him.
He sits on the couch with a beer in hand with Damon, Ace, and Roman. Tate and Maddie linger close to the group as Maddiekeeps looking over at me with pleading eyes. There's no way I'm going over there.
My eyes linger on Seb for longer than I care to admit. As his intense stare meets mine from across the room, I immediately sever the connection and avert my gaze.
I fight to shake off the sensation of Sebastian's fingers on my skin; the wave of calm I felt is something I dream of. He’s the only person who can soothe the damage they caused.
The damage I caused.
The red neon lights dance around the room as my vision returns to focus and my mind comes back to the present. The earthy taste from the joint invades my mouth while the world around me begins to slow down, and I slip into a hazy, blissful state.
The shitty music becomes muted, and the surrounding voices distant and unimportant the more weed I smoke.
My eyes fall closed only for them to shoot open seconds later when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
Ryan, a guy from one of the frat houses, is standing in front of me, swaying enough to tell me he's already toasted. The guys at these parties are only after one thing and one thing only.
“Are you okay? You look sad.” His gaze locks on me. Rolling my shoulders, I already feel the annoyance bubbling up.
"I’m fine." My voice is quiet. The seat next to me dips as he sits down.
“Want some company? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be alone at a party like this.” Rolling my eyes at the shit coming from his mouth, I sigh as I reply, “No. I don’t want your company.” He lets out a low laugh as if I were joking.
“Come on. Let’s find somewhere more private. I can make you look a lot less sad when you're coming on my fingers.” His hand lands on my thigh, and he leans in closer, invading my space and clearly not getting the clue.
My palm meets his chest, and I push. "I’m good.” But his hand is still on my thigh, tighter now. My body locks up when he then leans in closer and tries placing his lips between the crook of my neck. The smell of the cheap liquor on his breath makes me fucking nauseous.
It takes me a second, but I remember I'm not the same girl I was six months ago. I refuse to let another man do something to me I don't want.
I stand abruptly, the words leaving my mouth before I even have a second to think.
“Don’t ever fucking touch—” Before I can finish my sentence, the air around me shifts. A strong, familiar hand grips the preppy boy’s throat, yanking him upright.
Seb towers over him, his voice low and deep, barely audible.
“Touch her one more time and I’ll end your fucking life right now.” Sebastian’s face is only a few inches from the preppy boy’s. “Do I make myself clear?” The color drains from his face the second he realizes whose hand is wrapped around his pathetic neck.
“Yeah, man. Yeah, I’m sorry. Didn’t know she was your girl. My bad.” His eyes flick between Seb and me as his body begins to shake. The guy is basically pissing himself by the time Seb releases him, and he runs in the opposite direction, not caring who he bumps into. Seb turns, glaring at me with so much hate that I take a step back.
“I don’t even know why you showed up here tonight. You’re a waste of space in the corner. Do me a favor and fucking leave.” His words hit harder than they should, something cold curling in my chest. Without another word, he turns, grabs another beer, and saunters back to his group.
Tate’s eyes meet mine, and she offers me a sad smile, but I don’t need her pity.
I don’t want to look at her—or anyone else, for that matter. Quickly walking past the group, giving no one else my attention, I walk out the back door, hoping some fresh air will help clear my head.
Chapter 11
