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Handing the bottle back to me, Cleo stares at me waiting for me to say more. But no more words are shared as I take three long swigs from the bottle. When she finally realizes I'm not going to give her any details, she hops out of her chair and begins shuffling through my closet, tossing clothes on my bed next to me.
Carefully sorting her selections, she puts together three outfits for me as I continue to self medicate. One is more risqué than I'm comfortable with. One is too conservative. But the final outfit is perfect. It shows off skin and will drive Brady insane. Especially when I avoid him and refuse to let him touch me.
Everythingafter that is a little blurry. I have flashes of arriving at the Kappa house. Of spotting Brady in the kitchen and then again in the living room. I remember dancing provocatively, knowing he was watching. The way it felt when his eyes devoured every exposed inch of my body.
But that's the last thing I remember.
I'm not sure how I got home. Or who changed me into shorts and a t-shirt. My guess would be Cleo, since she vowed not to drink last night since I was a hot mess before we even left the house.
I'm lucky to have a friend like her in my life. One who will let me lose control if I need to but make sure I'm still safe.
Even though my room is still dark, I stand and head toward my door. There's no light coming from beneath it and at first, I'm thankful. The bright lights of the hall will only make my headache ten times worse.
It's not until I can't find the handle that I start to freak out. Running my hand along where the door should be, I realize I'm feeling a wall. Rubbing my throbbing temples, I close my eyes and feel my way around my room.
My heart starts to beat wildly in my chest when I realize nothing is where it should be.
I'm not in my room.
I'm not at the sorority house. This room is much larger. Less cluttered.
I went home with someone. Somehow, I slipped past Cleo's watchful eyes and did something stupid.
My eyes fly open when I hear a soft snore coming from across the room. Walking toward the sound when I hear it again, I trip over something on the floor and go down with a thud.
"Come back to bed."
His voice is a welcome relief for about five seconds.
After that, my anger flares. Pushing myself off the floor, I shuffle my feet forward. When I reach the edge of the bed, I stay close until I reach the table that sits next to the headboard. Flicking on the light, Brady and I both curse at the same time.
"What are you doing?"
"Apparently waking up in your bed instead of mine." My words are filled with disgust and hatred.
I wasn't supposed to go home with him last night. My plan was to make him jealous. To drive him crazy. To piss him off and hurt him the way he hurt me.
It appears I may have failed.
I finally crack my eyes open and take in my appearance. I'm wearing a pair of oversized shorts and an LSU t-shirt that belongs to Brady. He's laying in his bed, shirtless, but potentially naked. The sheet is covering his lower half, and I contemplate tugging it down to find out. I don't. That would give him the impression I want to fuck him, and I don't.
Not right now.
It would be a hate fuck. An angry fuck.
I need to stop thinking the word fuck, or I'm going to end up doing it.
"You were a little drunk last night. I brought you here to sleep it off." Brady reaches for me, but I take a step back. "Come back to bed, dove. We can discuss this in the morning over breakfast."
"I'm not getting back in bed with you."
Because I feel like I'm losing control of myself. And all I can think about right now is how I want to ride your cock until I forget why I hate you.
"Would you like for me to sleep on the couch?" Throwing back the covers, I'm a little sad when I see that he's also wearing a pair of shorts.
This should make me happy, but instead it upsets me.
"Mya." Brady waves his hand in front of my face to get my attention. I’m staring at his crotch. Trying to envision the beauty that lies beneath. Wishing he wasn't the asshole who used me for sex.
