Page 3 of Unloved

My face must be the color of my roommate’s seemingly permanent lipstick, but I nod.

“Great. I have an extra,” he says, lifting the small plastic cup.

Instead of handing it to me, he loops his arm over my shoulder and stalks behind me.

I grab his arm out of pure fear instinct, eyes wide as I look at the shot.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” I gesture with my head toward the gleaming drink that flashes blue and amber under the strobing lights. I look up at him, for reassurance or to stare at his gorgeous face, I’m not sure.

He smirks, lifting his hand to lick a drop of alcohol that’s sloshed out and down his hand. His tongue is slow, eyes bright, and I realize this is a bad idea.

“Don’t worry,” he says into my ear this time so I can hear. “You can take it.”

My eyes roll back a little, feet shuffling as I regain my balance.

He’s way too advanced for me. I need to try a freshman meet and greet, or one of those Super Smash video game parties—the guys there are hopefully more my speed.

I need training wheels. This guy is full throttle on the Circuit de Monaco, no way for me to slow him down.

But before I can back out, his other hand wraps around my neck, tilting my chin up, his palm warm against my throat as he lowers my head back into the cradle of his arm.

His fingers scald my chin, his palm gentle on my throat. It would be easy to step away, to say no and slip beneath the loose hold he has around my shoulders. But I don’t want to. I want this.

I can be whoever I want to be.

“Open,” he whispers, the command more like a taunt, but his eyes are still twinkling.

He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.

Will he kiss me like this? God, I want to feel his lips—they look like pillows.

Pulling myself together, heading off the blush my indecent thoughts are causing, I open my mouth and he pours the fiery liquid down my throat. At first I’m worried I’ll gag or spit it out because it burns—but my eyes stay locked on his, on the strange pride gleaming there as he bites his lip and continues to slowly pour until the plastic cup is empty.

I close my eyes for a second, pressing my lips together tightly before I realize some of it’s leaking from the corners of my mouth.

He doesn’t let me go but tilts my head toward him as he slowlylicks the drops of amber liquid from the corner of my lips. I can smell the heady mix of his cologne with the scent of alcohol for a moment,

before—

He kisses me.

Oh God.I let out an embarrassingly loud moan, thankfully drowned out by the music. His tongue is in my mouth.

His arms loop around my waist, and he tugs me tight against his body.

I barely have time to think, not that I could if I tried, because my first kiss being on the tail end of my first shot of alcohol is making me dizzy, my head swimming and fingers numb.

I stumble a little, and he keeps his hands on my lower back as he lets me fall gently against the wall. I don’t even remember how or when he switched our positions.

“Whoa,” I whisper. He smiles broadly and nods a little, like he agrees. “I— um—”

“Freddy!” a deep voice shouts.

His brow furrows, like he’s been jerked away from a dreamy daze, and he turns to look over his right shoulder toward the full table, all watching us now.

“I told you, it’s gonna be Matty.”

A burly, auburn-haired man shucks his arm around my first kiss’s shoulders and shakes him—which jostles me slightly as well, since his hands are still burning twin brands into the bare skin of my waist.

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