I lean against the club wall and scroll through Carly’s social media posts. She reviewed an indie movie last night, and she and Tanya have a whole conversation, back and forth, about what their favorite parts of the movie are.
I make a frustrated sound and go back to my chat history with Asch, but he hasn’t responded again.
Guess he doesn’t care if somebody fucks me in the toilets.
I tuck my phone back into my bra. My charm is in there too, in the small pocket I’d sewn because I’d rather lose a stupid phone than River’s finger.
After adjusting my skirt once—and discreetly patting my thighs to ensure the knife is still in my pocket—I head out to the dance floor.
I let out a small sigh of relief once I’m finally in the throng of people. The music is loud, the bass reverberating through me, and that’s exactly how I like it. I don’t want to focus on anything but moving my body right now.
Blaze and River got rid of Tate for me.
When Blaze had sent me the photo, my chest had been so close to bursting.
But I haven’t seen him or River or Asch since.
Two days of nobody wanting to talk to me. Two days of people avoiding me in campus halls. Two days of whispers and rumors and yet another professor asking me if I need time off or medical attention or whatever the fuck they think is wrong with me.
I place my hands on the shoulders of the nearest guy. He gives me a wide grin and mouths something I can’t understand over the roar of the music.
He’s hot enough. Bleached blond hair, nice body, fancy clothes. His dancing isn’t bad either.
I get closer to him and drag my chest along his.
He’s so warm, like everybody else around me.
He’ll do.
He’ll have to do, since Blaze and Asch and River aren’t here.
But when the guy leans in, his lips approaching mine, I avert my face so he doesn’t get more than my jaw.
What’s wrong with me?
This is why I came here. I’m mad at everybody, and the world is fucking pissing me off, and anyway I don’t owe anything to anyone.
I’m sorry, Blaze had said.
Had he meant it? Or was he lying so I’d stop hurting his frat brothers?
Shit.
I dig my fingers into the other guy’s skin. He jerks back and frowns at me, shaking his head.
Whatever he says to me, once again inaudible over the music, has him pull away and shift toward some other woman.
I turn around and keep dancing. With my eyes closed, I can pretend that I’m part of a single large body. Every person here is dancing to the same beat, and we’re connected, part of a hive mind, existing only to writhe in this pit of human flesh.
Somebody else fills the space in front of me and places his hands on my breasts. That’s kind of presumptuous. I open my eyes, and this time it’s a guy my height with dark curly hair and a wicked smile.
He keeps touching me, and I let him because there’s no reason not to.
When he jerks his head, I nod. He takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor, through the throng of people.
Bathroom fuck.
Or maybe bathroom stabbing.
