There’s nothing but him. I feel the bulge in his jeans against my ass, and I don’t have to tell my body how to respond. I collapse backward into him, needing him to touch every part of me. My hands search for his body in the darkness, but he swats them away. He’s in control. That’s clear. I’d argue, but I have no complaints.
He trails kisses along the way from my shoulder to my neck. A jolt of lightning crashes through me when I feel the first nip of his teeth on my neck. He goes from sweet-and-soft to rough-and-demanding, and back again, until I have no idea what will come next.
He whispers in my ear, “Let’s find somewhere more comfortable.”
Our bodies break apart, and it takes a moment for my senses to return to normal. “Follow me.”
I could lead him to one of the bedrooms, but the couch in the next room is much closer.
We stumble through the darkness and I push him onto the couch before he ever realizes it’s there.
“I guess you know what you want, huh?”
The picture window overlooking the garden gives the sitting room a lot of natural moonlight, and I can see Sterling’s features again. His eyes are narrow, but it’s not because he’s straining to see in the darkness. He’s not even looking at me. I can feel the gulf between us widen.
But I won’t let it. Not again. He’s drunk. It’s not ideal, but I’m ready. And besides, he’s not too drunk to remember if the last few minutes are any indication. That’s what matters.
I climb into his lap and begin to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his perfect mouth. He’s surprisingly slow to respond, so I place his hands on my ass and pull my top off. If he suddenly needs the paint-by-number approach I can oblige.
I kiss him again. Our bodies collide again. But there is no softness there, just hard tension.
“What’s with you?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He stiffens further. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“You were thinking?” I repeat. How can he be thinking right now? I’m barely breathing.
“I was wondering how long it would be until the next one,” he says, as if it explains everything.
“You’re going to need to give me more to go on.” I bend forward to kiss him again, but he stops me.
“What you were talking about earlier: the sharing.”
The sharing? What is he talking about?
“Do you get me all to yourself for a while? Or maybe you plan to take turns?” He spits the words out like a bad taste. In the greyscale of the moonlight, his eyes are cold and accusing. “I’m just trying to figure out what the rules are.”
My heart rate ratchets up again, but now it has nothing to do with his hands or his lips or his body. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sterling?”
The cursing turns him on like a switch. In a flash he spins me off of him and onto the couch. He leaps up, his face contorting in the moonlight and shifting to that of a stranger. Dangerous. Cold. A shiver runs through me. What have I done?
“I went to find you earlier. Here, in the pool house.”
I remember. I was talking with Ava and Darcy. They were trying to get me to dish about Sterling.
“You promised you’d share me,” he jogs my memory when I don’t respond. “I just want to know what that’s like. Do I sleep with you sometimes, but maybe if you’re busy I throw them a bone?”
“What the…” Bile rises in my throat. I’m not sure if it’s the idea of them touching him or the idea that he might be into it. Why else would he bring it up? I want to puke.
“You went along with it!” he rages. I try to interject, but he’s already off again. “I don’t get you people. Everything in your lives is just a toy waiting for you to get bored with it. Including me. Why not share me now? Didn’t they teach you that in school?”
“That’s not fair. You know I didn’t want any of this to happen. It was supposed to be just us.” I’m ashamed when my voice quavers. How could I have been stupid enough to let him get close enough to hurt me?
“Don’t be mad at me for finding out, Lucky. I’m smarter than you’re used to.” He turns to go, but stops at the kitchen door. “Admit it, I was supposed to be your birthday present. Because of course you are the type to get herself something. So let me spare you the trouble of re-gifting me.”
My heart crashes inward like a black hole. When I look up, he’s gone. Some days are diamonds.
But those days are never my birthday.
8
Sterling
I decide to major in philosophy.
It’s a worthless degree, but one I can do on my own time. No classes required. So far, I’m working on what I call the invisible man theorem, which basically means that if I act invisible, I will be invisible. I’m testing it using two different methods.
The first is by skipping class. It turns out that in college, unlike high school, no one gives a shit if you don’t show up to classes. No one. Not the professor. Not the administration. Not even your friends. I know, because I’m on my second week of testing the theory, and no one has even checked in, except Cyrus, who only stops by the room to grab shit a couple times a week. If I pretend I’m not there, he goes right along with it, only speaking when spoken to.
The other method of testing involves social invisibility, or the belief that if I show up at a party, say nothing to anyone, grab a bottle of booze, and take off, no one will even notice. But is this because I’m invisible or because people are shit-faced? I don’t know. But I’ll keep testing the theory until I can be certain.
There’s one more theory, but I haven’t given it a name yet. It’s basically that a son can’t ever escape becoming his father. I might not be the first to think of that one. I’d ask a professor, but I can’t be bothered to actually enroll in a philosophy class. Not if it means skewing the findings of my first theory, which I’m dedicating myself to completely, and have been since the night of Adair’s birthday party.
The door cracks open and Cyrus steps inside. His gaze sweeps over the room before landing on me.
“Hey,” I grunt, grabbing a t-shirt off the couch and pulling it over my head. Today, we’ll talk.
“I just needed to grab something,” he says, as if it’s some sort of revelation.
“Cool.” I pick up a few bottles to check their contents, but each of them is bone dry. Cyrus stands there, watching me.
“When was the last time you even went to class?” Cyrus asks. “I haven’t seen you in Econ in two weeks.”
“What do you care?” I drop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. If he noticed I wasn’t in class, it undermines my working theory. He shouldn’t notice my absence, and he definitely shouldn’t care. I’m going to have to reconsider some things.
“No reason. I just thought you were on scholarship.” He waits for me to respond, when I don’t, he continues, “You okay, man?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say flatly. “I’m living my best life.”
“I can see that.” He looks around our dorm room. “You want me to have my maid stop by?”