Page 19 of Backlash

The picture window overlooking the garden gives the sitting room a lot of natural moonlight, and I can see Sterling’s features again. His eyes are narrow, but it’s not because he’s straining to see in the darkness. He’s not even looking at me. I can feel the gulf between us widen.

But I won’t let it. Not again. He’s drunk. It’s not ideal, but I’m ready. And besides, he’s not too drunk to remember if the last few minutes are any indication. That’s what matters.

I climb into his lap and begin to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his perfect mouth. He’s surprisingly slow to respond, so I place his hands on my ass and pull my top off. If he suddenly needs the paint-by-number approach I can oblige.

I kiss him again. Our bodies collide again. But there is no softness there, just hard tension.

“What’s with you?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He stiffens further. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“You were thinking?” I repeat. How can he be thinking right now? I’m barely breathing.

“I was wondering how long it would be until the next one,” he says, as if it explains everything.

“You’re going to need to give me more to go on.” I bend forward to kiss him again, but he stops me.

“What you were talking about earlier: the sharing.”

The sharing? What is he talking about?

“Do you get me all to yourself for a while? Or maybe you plan to take turns?” He spits the words out like a bad taste. In the greyscale of the moonlight, his eyes are cold and accusing. “I’m just trying to figure out what the rules are.”

My heart rate ratchets up again, but now it has nothing to do with his hands or his lips or his body. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sterling?”

The cursing turns him on like a switch. In a flash he spins me off of him and onto the couch. He leaps up, his face contorting in the moonlight and shifting to that of a stranger. Dangerous. Cold. A shiver runs through me. What have I done?

“I went to find you earlier. Here, in the pool house.”

I remember. I was talking with Ava and Darcy. They were trying to get me to dish about Sterling.

“You promised you’d share me,” he jogs my memory when I don’t respond. “I just want to know what that’s like. Do I sleep with you sometimes, but maybe if you’re busy I throw them a bone?”

“What the…” Bile rises in my throat. I’m not sure if it’s the idea of them touching him or the idea that he might be into it. Why else would he bring it up? I want to puke.

“You went along with it!” he rages. I try to interject, but he’s already off again. “I don’t get you people. Everything in your lives is just a toy waiting for you to get bored with it. Including me. Why not share me now? Didn’t they teach you that in school?”

“That’s not fair. You know I didn’t want any of this to happen. It was supposed to be just us.” I’m ashamed when my voice quavers. How could I have been stupid enough to let him get close enough to hurt me?

“Don’t be mad at me for finding out, Lucky. I’m smarter than you’re used to.” He turns to go, but stops at the kitchen door. “Admit it, I was supposed to be your birthday present. Because of course you are the type to get herself something. So let me spare you the trouble of re-gifting me.”

My heart crashes inward like a black hole. When I look up, he’s gone. Some days are diamonds.

But those days are never my birthday.

8

Sterling

I decide to major in philosophy.

It’s a worthless degree, but one I can do on my own time. No classes required. So far, I’m working on what I call the invisible man theorem, which basically means that if I act invisible, I will be invisible. I’m testing it using two different methods.

The first is by skipping class. It turns out that in college, unlike high school, no one gives a shit if you don’t show up to classes. No one. Not the professor. Not the administration. Not even your friends. I know, because I’m on my second week of testing the theory, and no one has even checked in, except Cyrus, who only stops by the room to grab shit a couple times a week. If I pretend I’m not there, he goes right along with it, only speaking when spoken to.