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Well, I did come to this party to hook up, didn’t I? But can I really go through with it? I’ve tried so many times and always end up panicking. Then again, I’ve never been this stoned before.
“Sure,” I tell him.
His eyes widen, but then he collects himself and leans in. He comes in hard, and our teeth clank together. That doesn’t stop him, though, as he kisses me intensely. He’s not an amazing kisser, but I try to look past that and kiss him back, trying not to panic when he rolls on top of me. But when his hands start to wander, I feel panic flicker inside me.
Then, suddenly, all I can see ishim.
He tries to break me.
Pins me down.
I gasp, jerking away.
Bong Dude blinks at me. “You okay?”
I look at his face. He is nothim.
I need something else to latch on to.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I probably should’ve told you that sooner, huh? Trystan. Trystan Fairfield.”
“Okay, Trystan, let’s try this again.” I start to lean in to kiss him.
“Wait. I think I should know your full name, too, right?” he asks. “Unless it is just Al.”
Somewhere in my stoned mind, a voice is screaming something at me. But I can’t make out what it says. After I say what I say next, I finally figure it out. Too late, of course.
“It’s Allura,” I tell him. “Allura Everlyson.”
He goes completely rigid.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He jumps off the bed. “You’re Allura Everlyson, mafia princess and soon-to-be-wife of Blaise Marielle, Ryder St. Claire, and Reece Averyson.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Fuck is right,” a familiar voice floats through the room.
Reece, one of my future husbands, is here.
Don’t panic, Allura.
Weirdly, it’s easy to keep my pulse even. Probably because I’m stoned.
I gradually sit up and glance at the doorway where Reece is standing. It’s dark enough that if I hadn’t heard him speak, I would’ve thought he was some rando watching us. Begrudgingly, his voice is almost as familiar as my own.
I scoot to the edge of the bed. “Why are you here?”
He steps into the room. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is Jessa’s boyfriend’s party”—I lift my chin—“so I have an excuse to be here. You, however, don’t.”
“Al … who the hell are you talking to?” Jessa asks. “Is someone else in this room?”
“Wait … huh?” Jay mutters.
“Um … can I go now?” Trystan asks with his back pressed against the wall.
The silence that stretches across the room is maddening.
