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Nash grins at me like the Cheshire cat, his face flushed and fucking perfect, before pulling me back in for a bruising kiss, his fingers swiping over my wet thighs. He stares directly at me as he shoves his fingers straight into his mouth, groaning obscenely as he sucks my wetness off them.
“I knew you’d taste delicious” I say nothing, just stare at him with wide eyes now that the post orgasm haze has dissipated. He senses my panic and kisses my cheek before gently pushing me towards the bathroom to clean up. I feel like Bambi as I move on shaky legs towards the ladies, and Nash wraps a hand around my waist, tugging me tightly against him.
“I’d help you, but I don’t think I could control myself from not fucking you over the sink.”
I roll my eyes at him and then enter, looking at myself in the mirror. My hair is fucking mess, my cheeks are rosy, and my lips are puffy. I have thatfreshly fuckedcomplexion going on and those purple array of hickeys on my neck is not going to help my case when I argue that I wasn’t. I clean up quickly, cursing myself out for not bringing more lipstick, but I didn’t plan on kissing anyone tonight, let alone dry fucking one of the guys who’s made my life hell since I got here on the dance floor.
I find Peyton and Milo at the bar; Leo has joined them and a little while away Nash is talking animatedly with a girl who’s down the bar. The flare of jealousy in my chest has me gritting my teeth and I have to remind myself that no matter what happened between us, I have no claim over his man. Even if he’s being a fucking asshole right now. He must feel my eyes on him because he turns my way, winking at me. I scowl in return, and he just raises his eyebrows, before he looks between me and the other girl.
I don’t wait to see what he’ll do and saunter up beside Peyton, swiping the drink from her hand and downing it on one go just to find out it’s freaking water. Buzz kill. Her hand still hovers from where it held the drink and her mouth is forming a little o shape as she looks at me, giggling and poking at sore points on my neck.
“Who were you getting hot and heavy with?” She swipes a finger on the corner of my mouth, getting the smeared lipstick I missed, and I poke my tongue out at her.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes are looking behind me, and both eyebrows shoot up before she looks back at me, all smug. Her arms fold across her chest and she pops a hip out in a way I’ve seen her do to the boys every time she’s about to be proven right. “Oh yeah? Then can you explain the tall blonde man striding this way with murder on his face and red lipstick on his collar?”
Before I can answer, I feel a hand land on my hip and lips press against my ear. “Can we talk, Darling?”
I don’t look at him as I respond, trying to keep my eyes firmly on Peyton and away form Leo as he watches this interaction with me and his bestie. “I’m a bit-tired Nash, I just want to go home.” His body presses into me and I feel just how much he likes that idea, so I decide to add. “Alone.” His sigh is heavy, but he releases me, stepping back, but not before telling me we’ll talk later.
Peyton grins at me, waggling her eyebrows and announces she’s going to pee before we walk home. Milo follows her, and then it’s just me and Leo. He’s running his tongue against the point of his tooth and looking me up and down, slower than he did when he was on stage. He moves a little closer, caging me in against the bar and bending down so his eyes are level with my own.
“Never took you for the type to play in the shadows, sweetheart. I wonder what it was that got you so hot and if you’re looking for an encore, I’ll lend you a hand.”
I want to be disgusted by his double entendre, but I don’t know if I’m more excited about the insinuation of a private concert or a different type of encore to my night. The way my breath stutters tells him everything he needs to know about how I feel about that. What the fuck is wrong with me? His chuckle is low and promises dark dirty things. I have to tell myself to reign it the fuck in because I willnotbe going down this path with a guy who is fucking the girl whostonednot only me but my friend. Fuck that.
I meet him head on, with what I’m hoping is a menacing look on my face. He pulls back a little, his eyebrows furrowing, head tilting slightly like he doesn’t understand the problem. That’s fine, I’m happy to spell it out for him.
“You’re with Blakely. I don’t have any plans on letting you touch me.”
His questioning look is quickly replaced with annoyance. “Why the fuck would you think I’m with Blakely? We were never together, we fucked, and that shit ended weeks ago.”
“From the way she jumped your ass tonight, I would say she didn’t get the memo.” He says nothing, just nods and walks off. I watch him go, I don’t regret what I said, but I also didn’t want him to leave. He’s at the edge of the bar, almost too far for me to hear him when he stops and looks at me over his shoulder, giving me a small smile when he sees I’m still watching him. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Then he disappears into the crowd. Not sexy, not hot, not even fuckable.Beautiful.And doesn’t that just twist up my insides. Sighing, I got find Peyton so we can walk back to our dorm
“I had a great time tonight, but I’m kind of glad it’s over.” Peyton whispers to me from her bed, facing me. I’m facing her from my position on my stomach, nodding my agreement and decide to ask the question that plagued me all night.
“Where was Jack tonight?”
“Ah. He was called home earlier in the week. He’ll be gone a few more days.” She seems a bit hesitant to tell me more than that and I decide not to push. Instead deciding to murmur “hope he’s alright.” She’s quiet for so long afterwards I’m wondering if she might have fallen asleep, but when I hear her breath catch, I jolt over to her. She’s crying.
I haven’t known Peyton long, but I do know that she’s not a crier. I scoot into her bed with her, keeping my distance but holding her hand in mine. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why she’s crying. Am I supposed to ask what’s wrong, or will that make it worse? I decide on silent comfort. She’s full sobbing now, and I move in a little closer to wrap my arms around her as she continues to sniffle and shed tears on my shoulder. Minutes pass before she starts to calm down, but I don’t let her go until she starts to move away, shifting slightly and keeping my hand grasped tightly in hers.
“Tonight, was everything for me. It was beautiful and so unbelievably destructive. I, I’m overwhelmed, and I don’t know what to do.” It takes me a second to understand she’s talking about Milo, and thankfully she continues.
“Since he got engaged, I’ve dreamed that we could still be close. I know we can’t be together, but he was my life, you know? And then he was just gone. Tonight, gave me something back. But also cemented just how much I still freaking love him. And it hurts so bad that I can’t have him.”
I blink back my own tears at her words. At how doomed she sounds, like this is truly the end of her world, and I want to fix it. I don’t know how, but I’m going to fix it. I stay in her bed with her all night, and she never let’s go of my hand.
Chapter Sixteen
I’m tired, I’m hungover and Milo has dragged my ass out of bed at the crack ass of dawn to practice our routine. I want to murder him. Well, not really, but I am very fucking unhappy about it. He was thoughtful enough to bring aspirin and a large bottle of water which soothes me a little, but not enough for me to not glare at him. If Peyton didn’t just confess her undying love for this man, this day would go a lot differently.
We run through the routine once, twice, at least ten times and without proper food in my stomach, I barely make it the toilet before I hurl up all of the alcohol I consumed last night, plus some. I grumble as Milo plops down beside me, asking my plans for the rest of the day. Apparently, dying in my bed was an unacceptable answer
“I don’t know, I should probably get a start of my world history assignment. The problem is, I fucking hate it.”
“If you hate it so much, why do you take the class? Aren’t you undeclared?” Me and my hungover mouth need to shut up. I think quickly about what to say, but just shrug. Sometimes no response is better. He huffs out a breath like I’m impossible and then pulls out his phone, typing out a message, then I hear my phone ping.
