“Could I stay with you in your apartment then?” I almost sound like I’m begging and I grip on to the doorknob tighter.
Again he pauses way too long. “We only have a studio apartment right now and it’s overcrowded with Trevor’s art, but when we get the new place in a couple of months you can definitely come out and stay with us for as long as you want. We’d love to have you.”
I shake my head as my pulse pounds in my eardrums. I need to get out of here. I need a drink. I need to not have so much damn noise in my head. “Never mind,” I say, then I hang up. I let go of the doorknob, step back, and kick the bottom of the door hard enough that my boot leaves a dent in it. “Shit.” I press my hands to the side of my head, taking ragged gulps of air. Now on top of everything else, I’m going to have to try and explain to Kayden why it looks like a boot went through the damn door, although he has broken a few pieces of furniture himself.
I can’t take this anymore. I knew I shouldn’t have asked my father for anything. I wish I could hate him, then maybe it’d be easier to feel so much anger toward him.
* * *
I party with Seth and Greyson at Red Ink until around nine or ten, downing shot after shot, my dad and my approaching homelessness becoming a dwindling problem. When we’re pretty trashed out of our minds, we get a cab to drive to a house out in this town in no-man’s-land… Fairtown I think… because Seth heard there was going to be a “raging party.” When we get there, there are so many people it’s hard to even move through the house. I end up losing track of Seth and Greyson in the crowd, but instead of looking for them I head straight for the drink area in the kitchen.
After I slam down about five shots of Bacardi, I head for the living room where the couches have been shoved aside and the stereo’s booming some pop song. I’m not a fan of the music but it’s danceable and there’s some slutty-looking girls that are barely dressed, totally bangable and easy, at least from what I can tell—my vision’s a little distorted right now. But I’m only looking for a distraction to get me through the night, so I can fall asleep in peace, something I rarely do.
I make my way out there and a short curvy brunette instantly comes up and starts rubbing up on my leg. I blink my eyes until I can kind of make out her face and then figure she’ll do. I get behind her and she backs her ass up into me as we rock to the slow, sultry beat of the song. As she leans her head back, I sweep her hair to the side and slide my hand up to her rib cage as she tries to seduce me with her best seductive gaze. What she doesn’t get, though, is she doesn’t have to try. I’ll take her back to her place and f**k her, just like she’s hoping. I’ll give her what she wants and in exchange I’ll get a few moments of silence where I can be free from the reality of my life and all the twistedness inside me won’t feel so sickening.
“You smell really good,” she says, batting her eyelashes with her head tipped back against my chest.
“I smell like cigarettes and Bacardi,” I call out because she’s so full of it. The whole room smells like sweat and beer.
“Well, maybe I like that smell.” She bats her eyelashes at me again as she slips her hand behind her and starts to rub my cock.
It’s starting to feel really good when she starts doing this weird thing with her hips, then she spins around and strikes some kind of cat-clawing pose with her hands out in front of her. “I used to be a stripper,” she tells me, shimmying her hips.
“In Fairtown?” I don’t even try to hide my disgust. The town is pretty much a trailer park out in the middle of nowhere and I’m wondering if my drunk vision is making her seem a lot more attractive than she really is.
She nods her head, doing a little twirl and her hair whips me in the face. “Yeah, for like a year.” She starts to back up and then comes at me again, shaking her tits, which are big enough that they bounce up and down. Then she starts whipping her head around as she swings her arms out to the side.
Any possibility of me getting hard dwindles and I’m about to tell her I’m going to get a shot, so I can get away from the whole nasty stripper dance she’s got going on, when I hear laughter from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder and my heartbeat speeds up just a little. Violet is standing behind me, trying to restrain her laughter, her lips smashed together so tightly they’re turning blue. I haven’t talked to her since our McDonald’s trip, where we sat down and had lunch like we were a f**king couple or something, which we’re not because I don’t do relationships—get involved. But I’ve seen her around on campus. I’ve been trying to avoid her as much as possible, trying not to look her way, otherwise I’ll get drawn into whatever the hell is pulling me toward her. It’s been a struggle, though, and a couple of times I’ve even found myself drifting in her direction.
Now she’s the one who’s drifted toward me, and I like it that she’s here. I hate that she has that much power over me, that I’m feeling things for her… feelings I’m still trying to figure out.
I frown as she opens her mouth to say something. I’m sure she has some sort of snarky remark on the tip of her tongue.
But she moves around to the front of me and says to the brunette, “Mind if I cut in?”
“Are you being serious?” the brunette asks then glances at me, waiting for me to respond.
“I’ll catch up with you later maybe,” I say to the stripper, being evasive to avoid any confusion later.
She shoots me a glare, putting her hands up in front of her. “Don’t bother. I’ve got plenty of other guys waiting in line to get with this.” She rolls her body and shakes her tits again and Violet covers her hand with her mouth, choking on her laughter as the brunette stomps off.
Once she disappears in the crowd, I quickly take Violet in. Her red and black hair is swept to the side and has this sexy wave thing going on. Her green eyes are outlined with black and her lips shine even in the inadequate light. She’s wearing this long black dress that flows all the way to her feet. It’s different from what most of the other girls here are wearing, in the sense that it covers up a lot more. But she’s not wearing a bra and even though her br**sts aren’t as big as the brunette’s they’re more attractive, her ni**les perking through the thin fabric and making my c**k rethink its deflation.
“So are you going to stare at me all day?” she asks, biting on her thumbnail, scanning the crowd instead of me. “Or actually dance with me?”