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“Oh, baby. I don’t know if you can,” she says, pulling me in for a hug.
She runs her fingers through my hair, trying her best to comfort me, but we both know nothing will.
ChapterThirteen
CLARK
“Remind me again why we’re here,” I mutter, hoping Mitch can hear me over the loud fucking music pouring from this frat house.
“Marley invited me. I’ve been trying to build a relationship with her and be a better brother.” He sighs.
“You’re telling me your sister invited you, not me, to this party, and you’ve somehow managed to drag me out?” I grumble.
“Please, Clark.”
“Riley would fucking kill me if she knew where I was,” I tell him.
“As if you care what she thinks,” he says, rolling his eyes.
I don’t respond, because he’s right, but he’ll never understand.
We walk past a couple making out on the porch, and I realize that I’m definitely too fucking old to be at a college party right now.
“I better not run into my sister doing that shit,” he says.
I feel the rage inside me bubbling to the surface at the thought of Marley wrapped up in some douchebag's arms. I’ll fucking kill someone.
We push our way inside, only to find the house is crammed full of people. It reeks of marijuana, and it’s hotter than hell.
“This was a terrible fucking idea,” I tell Mitch, knowing damn good and well he can’t hear a thing I’m saying.
The two of us are dressed up in full Toga gear. It looks like I’m wearing a fucking T-shirt dress with a red piece of material draped over me. All tied together with a fucking gold belt.
“Just lighten up. Since when are you too cool for parties?” He scoffs.
“Find me a drink and then maybe I’ll lighten up.”
We weave throughout people dancing, talking, and practically fucking in the middle of the room, before we make it to a cooler.
“Here, princess,” he says, shoving a beer at me.
I flip him off, making him laugh.
“I’m going to see if I can find Marley, or at least Delaney. You coming?” he asks.
“Nah, I’ll be around. Just text me when you’re ready to go,” I tell him, waving him off.
It would be in my best interest to not find Marley. Every time we’re alone, we find ourselves in some compromising positions. Not to mention, I haven’t seen her since the day she moved in. I took things too far, once again, when I started texting her that night. I’ve done my best at refraining from doing that again.
I’m leaning against the wall in the living room, observing, when I see her. She’s an angel. Like, she’s dressed as a literal fucking angel.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She hasn’t spotted me yet, but I grit my teeth when I see her grinding on that douchebag from the beach this summer. Josh? Jeremy? Fuck, who cares.
While I’m undetected, I allow myself a few moments to appreciate how fucking amazing she looks.
She’s wearing a corset bodysuit. It looks like a fucking swimsuit, but one that I could easily grip the sides of and take completely off. The thought alone is making me as fucking hard as a rock. She’s wearing angel wings, and she’s got a gold halo on top of her head. My eyes travel down her body. I try hard not to stare at the way her chest is piled fucking perfectly in that top. She’s wearing a pair of white knee-high boots and some stockings.
