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“Oh god, yes,” Rome said quickly. “Enough of this shit. Let’s get her home to rest. It doesn’t matter what we think of each other. Willow’s needs are more important than figuring out the pecking order.”
The three of them agreed, the bluster gone from their bodies as they remembered me. They gathered back around, holding me and helping me move ahead. And it worked. I felt revitalized as we moved through the campus grounds. It was as if I could draw energy from them as we walked.
We got up to my room quickly after that, and as we got off the elevator, I heard Victoria’s laughter coming from her room. She was still having a great time and wasn’t shy about being loud.
We reached my door, and I heard hers open. I turned and expected to find her there, scolding me for bringing three men up, but I was immediately shocked into silence.
One of Alexander’s friends, Quinton North, was sticking his head out of it looking at us.
“Is it your Lower friend? Tell him to get in here for our threesome!” Victoria’s voice carried from her room. She sounded demanding and needy, exactly like she always did.
“Uh, no,” Quinton stammered. “A false alarm. It must have been the wind or something.”
“Then close the door and get back in here to finish what you started,” Victoria called out, and Quinton raised his brows at us.
There was an unspoken agreement made just then. None of us would mention this moment ever again. We hadn’t seen each other, and there was nothing worth talking about. At least between the rooms, I was dying to talk about it to the three of them the moment we were alone.
“What was that all about?” I giggled as I exhaled and shook my head. My hair startled me again. It was so long and dark with thick curls. I always expected it to be shorter and brightly colored. “Is she slutting around? What scandal! If anybody found out about Victoria’s wild ways, especially with Lowers, could you imagine?”
I was a little over the top dramatic, but there was a part of me that spit a little resentment into my words. She was such a hypocrite, telling me to watch myself when she was sneaking more than one man into her room. What a paragon of virtue, I thought, rolling my eyes.
“Victor’s predilections are Crimson’s worst kept secret,” Rome said with a smile. He looked from Alexander to Luke and back to me. “Do you not remember how she really is? Beneath the fake persona, that is?”
“Apparently, I don’t,” I replied with an arched brow. I suppressed a yawn and stretched, growing fatigued all over again. “I should remember, though, but I can’t think about it right now. .”
I yawned this time and stretched again, and with each step towards my bed, I eased out of my dress, bra, and panties.
By the time I slipped naked between my soft, slippery sheets, I felt like a little lamb being paraded in front of the lion’s cages. The look of hunger on each man’s face was a sight to behold, but I was too tired to do anything about it.
This time, I wasn’t pulled into the dark. This time, I really did dream. And while I dreamed, my brain reset, and I healed a little more.
It helped that most of my dreams were filled with pleasure and the same three gorgeous men, over and over again.
* * *
I woke as a different person.At least different than the day before. For once, my mind felt clear and filled with memories that seemed to align with this world.
I opened my eyes, and bright sunlight was streaming in. I looked over at the area by the door, and three men were sleeping in different spots, each one looking more uncomfortable than the last.
Luke was splayed out with his head resting on one of my velvet cushions from the chaise under the window. For a moment, I could envision ourselves lying together with our limbs tangled in the bedsheets. Waking up in the sunlight after a long night of sex.
But it wasn’t this room, and I wasn’t this girl. I was the other one, with the pink hair and big attitude. The one who fought like crazy and had the scars of punching people and walls cratering the skin along her knuckles.
I gasped and held my fists to my face to look for the scars. They were puckers with little knots and lines, the edges of scars, but not as deep as my memories served.
So my hands weren’t the delicate, smooth, soft hands of an Upper, and yet they weren’t the scarred, rough hands of my memory.
How bizarre.
And again, I was pulled back inside my own head, where everything felt like it was lining up. Sure, I remembered moments with Luke, but I also remembered moments with Rome.
Rome was on the chaise. He’d somehow won the best spot for sleeping, although he was curled up in an uncomfortable manner. His long legs were half under him, and his head was resting on the top of the chaise, giving his neck a painful angle.
He was so beautiful. The light played and danced along the curls of his black hair, and I longed for him to open his jeweled green eyes so he’d catch me staring.
I loved Rome. There was no way to describe it any other way. I loved him with all my heart, but every time I looked at him, I could sense loss. I’d seen him beaten and bruised. I’d seen him jumped on the pavement in the rain in a dull, dirty city somewhere far from here. I’d held his head in my hands as he’d died, no ambulance coming for us in that part of town.
So, where did that memory come from? I was an Upper. I was born an Upper and raised in the pampered Upper life. From what I’d gleaned so far, Roman Venedi was Alexander’s best friend and right-hand man. I’d known them for years through boarding school, but we’d never done anything until the party. We’d never been alone together, so how did I love him, and how did I have intimate knowledge of what his cock felt like in my hand and how he sounded when he came?
