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Maria stood, waiting, and I awkwardly waved. What did she want from me?
When the tension became almost palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife, I opened the door, slipped inside, and lightly shut it.
It took me a moment to take stock of B’s minuscule dorm room, and another moment for the proper anger to fester.
Her room was in shambles. Clothing littered the ground, and her dresser balanced precariously on one leg. Her bedspread, the school-sanctioned peach color, was shredded, as well as her mattress.
All I saw was red, vibrant in its intensity. I barely even noticed that my hands were clenched into fists by my sides, the overwhelming need to smash them into someone’s face nearly killing me. I had no doubt who was behind this destruction.
The same asshole who had threatened her. Who she had threatened with pleasure I could only dream of having.
B was bent over her duffle bag, muttering inarticulately beneath her breath as she inventoried her belongings.
She was dressed in that damn leotard—the leotard that was both a godsend and my own personal hell. How was it possible for someone to look so perfect, so beautiful? The fabric accentuated her delectable curves, and her golden hair was flowing around her shoulders. It was a different color than Maria’s. While Maria’s was so blond it was almost white, B’s was pure, undiluted gold. Darker strands of brown were woven throughout, heightening the brown in her eyes.
A memory assaulted me then—a memory I didn’t recognize—and I staggered.
* * *
“You fucking cunt,”a malicious voice sneered.
My voice was raspy from years of no use, but the words came out clearly. “I’m going to kill you.”
He laughed, the sound grating on my nerves. Anger thrummed through my veins like wave after wave of electricity.
“I’d like to see you try.”
* * *
I was pulledout of my strange daydream by B’s voice. Shaking my head, I willed myself back to the present. Trying to understand my vision was like trying to push back the waves of the ocean: impossible.
Just a product of this fucked up school, I told myself.
“You just going to stand there like a creeper?” B quipped, not bothering to turn around. She placed her hands on her hips and cocked them to the side. “You know what, never mind. I’m done. Fuck them right in the ass with a dildo made of barbed wire.”
With a dramatic sigh, she flopped onto the bed, placing a hand over her eyes. The bed creaked dangerously, but B didn’t react.
I hesitantly reached down and grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor, folding them up and setting them on her still standing desk.
“I’m tired and hungry and sweaty and just not in the mood for this shit.” Once again, she released an agitated sigh. One eye blinked open, surveying me. “Come cuddle.”
There was both a plea and a demand in her voice. Vulnerable and dominant. My cock hardened shamelessly, but she fortunately had already reshut her eyes.
I didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly, I scurried to the bed and dropped down beside her. She immediately curled onto my chest, her head in the crook of my neck, and I breathed in her heady, distinct scent.
Being with B was wandering alone at night, then suddenly emerging in a bright paradise. It was the elation you felt drinking water after years in the desert. It was rainbows and sunshine and every fucking cheesy description you could think of.
“Sorry if I’m sweaty,” she mumbled sleepily into my chest. It was well into the morning, the sun breaking through the foliage of trees outside her window, but I knew B would be tired after an intensive workout. More times than I could count, B would return from gymnastics practice dead to the world. She would collapse onto the nearest flat surface, the rest of the world diminishing to mere background noise.
I wanted to ask her what had happened, if those assholes had hurt her, if she was okay, but I was content just to hold her. Love her. Feel her heartbeat thrum against my chest. Her silky soft hair brushed my face with each twitch of her body, and I inhaled her scent. Love for her reverberated through my body, my heart, like a sledgehammer, until all that existed was her. Her and me, in a cocoon of our own making.
“I think I’m going to go to the admissions office later on,” she confided softly. “I can’t handle…I just don’t want to deal with people.”
I snorted. Understatement of the century. B really only had two moods. Stabby and murdery. I had the distinct feeling that Kace, Aiden, and Tanner evoked the latter one. Only I was fortunate enough to see the full spectrum.
She giggled against my chest, hearing what I didn’t say aloud.
“I’m not usually this…” She trailed off, unable to find an appropriate word. I didn’t think there was any word in the English dictionary that could describe Bianaca Steal.
