My heart twists, even now after everything, I can’t read these damn books without picturing him. Without imagining his hands where the heroes are, his voice saying the filthy things these characters whisper into each other’s skin.
How I thought about his lips touching mine and making me beg for him to touch me.
A soft knock at the door makes me jump, I glance over at the clock on my nightstand. It’s one in the morning, who the hell would be knocking on my door at this time.
The knock comes again, louder this time. I freeze. No one should be knocking this late. I look around to see if there's anything around I can use as a weapon if I need it. My dorm is on school grounds. The dorms are locked to outsiders after curfew. Whoever it is must be someone from campus, but still, a chill traces down my spine.
I don’t know why but I tiptoe softly to the door, my book still in hand, thumb wedged between the pages. With a shaking of my hand, I open the door, and I stand there frozen to the spot.
Hayden.
He looks wrecked, he has cuts on his cheekbone, dried blood smeared across his brow. His shirt clings to his chest in patches, wet with sweat or something. I look out the window, it’s not raining.
“Hayden—what—what happened to you?” my voice is a whisper, barely more than a breath. He doesn’t answer.
His eyes flicker past me, sweeping the tiny dorm room like he’s checking to see if I’m alone. His presence fills the doorway, he’s dangerous and quiet and unreadable. I take a step back.
“Hayden—”
He reaches out and plucks the book from my hand without a word. Glances at the cover, then throws it onto the bed behind him.
“What the hell—?” He doesn’t let me finish. One stride, that’s all it takes.
One stride and he has me pressed against the inside of the door, the wood cool against my spine. His hands find my waist like they belong there. His mouth crashes into mine. It’s not soft. It’s rage. Hunger. Desperation.
Everything I read about.
It’s Hayden, and I melt at his touch.
My fingers grip the hem of his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. My mind screams confusion, but my body remembers the kiss we shared. Every night I dreamt of this. Every night I ached for him.
I taste the blood on his lip.
“Fuck,” I hear him as he pushes into me. A spark moves through me as he pushes his body against mine. I know this is wrong, and he hates me, but I’ve wanted this for so long I don’t care.
I can feel him hard against me, his lips move to my neck as he plants a kiss there.
“Tell me to stop, Olivia.” I hear him, and where his lips were, is now replaced with his hand. “I hate you. I hate what you did to me. Tell. Me. To. Stop.”
“N…no.” The word escapes in a whisper.
His lips are on me again and this time it’s harder, his fingers are rough as they move up my t-shirt, and straight to my panties, and the cage of butterflies opens as it’s finally happening with him.
He pushes his finger under the fabric, and I hear the growl from his mouth as he starts to rub me, and I moan.
“Fuck!” Hayden pulls away shouting, and I try to get my breath back. “Fuck!” I jump when he punches the wall beside me, and now I have a dent in my room. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“Hayden—”
“No, you don’t get to come back into my life and think it will all go back to the way it was, the way it was meant to be for us,” he shouts, and I wipe the tears away because I know he’s right.
Hayden walks to the door, pushing me out the way and I try to grab his hand, but he pulls it away.
“Tell me, tell me what I have to do to fix this,” I plead with him, the tears escaping as all I want it my best friend back. Hayden turns to face me shaking his head. “Please.”
He places both his hands on the wall beside me, and leans in closer, and a look which is so dark, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone, ever.
“On your knees would be a good start.” The way the words escape him with so much hate, but at the same time the look in his eyes still has lust he had only a few minutes ago.
