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Flushing the toilet, I frown when I yank my earbuds out with a huff. Checking my phone, I note the battery percentage sits at 0%. Thinking back; I forgot to put them on the charger last night when I crawled into my cold bed. Shoving my earbuds into my pocket in defeat, I shake my head at my incompetence. I need the noise to filter out the world. So I don’t fucking remember. I never want to fucking remember.
My teeth grit together when all the noise around me returns, and my brain works double time, filing everything away for later. Water drips. The wind blows outside, shifting something in the building. Voices mutter in the distance. Even dogs bark somewhere near the bar. The noises will forever be cemented in my memories without an erase button.
Some call what I have a gift. Everything I see, taste, hear, and fucking touch—I remember forever. It never goes away and is never forgotten. If you ask me to quote what I did three years ago on a random day, I can reach back into my brain's filing cabinet and perfectly recall it without missing a beat and explain it in vivid detail.
Kids envied me in school, calling me a cheater for my perfect scores. Teachers grew concerned I wasn’t being challenged enough and wanted to speed up my learning. Little did they know I had this horrible secret weapon blooming inside me. I wanted nothing to do with the gift bestowed upon me.
And me? I call it a heavy ass burden to carry. Something I didn’t ask for. Being able to remember every event in my life is torture on repeat. The good. The bad. And the extremely ugly. No matter what side of life it is, I can’t push it from my brain, and it will forever lie in wait, forcing me to remember.
“Callum! Help me!”
“It’s so cold, Cally,” she whispers, crawling over me. My breaths shudder as warm blood coats my front and seeps into my skin. Helplessly, I cling to her, begging God to spare us from the wrath of death.
“I love you, Jenny,” I murmur, stroking a shaky hand through her damp hair.
“Love you too,” she whispers in a small, quiet voice—leaving me only two minutes later.
Her tiny voice screams in my head. Those cries for help, begging me to rescue her from a situation I couldn’t get us out of. Fuck. I fumble with my phone, needing something to take away the sound of grinding metal, screams, and the feel of warm blood pooling on my chest.
I grunt, slamming a hand into the side of my head twice, trying to knock my brain around. Without the music blasting in my ears, her tiny cries echo on repeat. Make her voice leave. Make it fucking stop haunting me every day. I slam my hand into my head again, silently screaming into the void, pushing saliva out of my mouth and dripping onto the floor. I lose my fight, slumping on the toilet and leaning my head back against the tile again. Lightly, I knock the back of my head against the wall, begging for the phantom noises to disappear forever. If I could just fucking forget.
Shaking my head, I try to focus on my surroundings and center myself on the here and now. My therapist swears this grounding method will keep me focused on the present, but sometimes I have doubts. A door hangs off the hinges of the stall, which refused to close when I tried. Didn’t matter, anyway. No one else is left in the bar except Kieran, Rad, River, and me. Doors close in the distance, offering goodbyes and laughs to River, and she offers them back in return. As her light footsteps walk past the bathroom, I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t peek in and see the mess huddled on the toilet, barely hanging on to reality.
My fists curl at my sides until she walks right past and into the room next to the bathroom. In the same room, I watched Kieran and Rad disappear into the moment we separated, going to two different places.
Murmured voices rise through the walls with such clarity I hear every word they speak, as if I’m standing in the room. Heat encases my cheeks when the first moans roar through the walls, projecting into the small, echoey bathroom. They’re breathy and begging, yet she’s the one in charge. Every sound she makes comes through, and my imagination takes off into a fantasy world where I’m a suave, smooth talker who never stumbles over my words.
My breaths pick up as her moans grow louder and louder, and I swear my cock stands at attention in three seconds. All the blood whooshes through my ears and goes straight to my dick, making it jerk in my fucking pants.
With shaky fingers, I close my eyes and undo my pants, bringing the zipper entirely down. With just one tug, I could have my cock out. Only stopping for one second when my conscience barrels in and begs me to stop. This is their private time together, and I’m an intruder listening in like a creep. But the sounds she’s making drive me fucking insane. No one has ever gotten me this hard before. Sure, I’ve kissed a few girls, but none gave me the sparks in my belly like River.
River West will either be our ruination or our fucking salvation—I haven’t decided which yet.
Looking down, I move the elastic of my boxers and bring my aching cock out. I swear the tip is purple by the time I rub my thumb over the tip and swipe along my crease, spreading my clear pre-cum. Fuck my conscience. For once, I want to come to the live sounds of a woman getting what she needs from my two best friends. Temporarily, I’m not Callum Rose, the idiot who blushes at every look River throws at me. No. I’m Callum Rose, the guy getting off to the sounds of her orgasm blasting through her. Her screams break off like someone has captured her lips with theirs, thrusting their tongue in her mouth. I shudder at the image of Rad shoving his cock down her throat, gagging her like he said he would.
Fuck. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I stroke up and down, using what little pre-cum I have as lubrication. Eventually, the friction becomes too heated, and I spit in my palm several times, lubing myself up.
A loud groan leaves my lips when I pick up the pace, fucking my hand with the same intensity they’re fucking her now. The slap of skin bleeds through the walls. Deep in my mind, I imagine I’m sitting right before them, locking eyes with the girl I’m desperate to touch. I throw my head back, my balls fucking tingling and teetering on the edge when I see the dilation of her moss-green eyes staring heat into mine in my mind. I’m so fucking close to spilling my damn cum all over this bathroom stall. Heat descends my spine, heading straight for my rock-hard cock, twitching in my hand with every stroke. So fucking close….
My body jumps, and I stop all movement when the door beside me crashes open and slams closed with heavy force. Rad and Kieran murmur in low voices, so low I can’t hear them anymore. I hold my breath, not daring to move a muscle until she walks by the door. Please let her walk by. Please don’t let her come in here and see that I’m fucking my hand to her.
The men’s bathroom door slams open and closes with the same hurried intensity. Only her heavy breaths fill the room. I roll my lips together, fighting the feeling taking me over. I’ve edged myself so far now that I need to fucking cum, or the pain will overtake me. Fuck.
“Fuck,” she murmurs, a light banging happening against the door, which I can only imagine is the back of her head tapping it. “Fuck…”
I swallow the whimper in my throat when I’m forced to stroke myself lightly. The scent of sex wafts off her body, infecting the bathroom with their combined scents. In turn, my heart beats a million miles a minute, filling my ears with persistent thumps. My dick gets impossibly harder, and I suck in a breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. She'll hear everything in this quiet bathroom if I move a muscle or tuck myself into my pants.
“Who the fuck is in here?” she says in a quiet voice, making my heart drop into the pits of my stomach.
I lick my lips, covering my dick with both my hands. Closing my eyes, I say a brief prayer and do the only thing I can to make her stay away.
“It’s me,” I whisper, hoping she’ll stay by the door and not come any further.
“Yeah? And who is me?” she growls in a harsh tone, but it does little to ease the desire rushing through me.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her on her knees in front of me, begging for me to come on her tits. My lips pop open when a familiar heat races up my neck to the tip of my ears. I swear I’m in a perpetual state of blushing.
Clearing my throat, I utter, “Callum.” Instead of coming out in a normal tone, it comes out in a deep rasp, alluding to what I’ve been doing in the back stall of the bathroom.
