Page 9 of Between Now and Forever

When we walked into that party, a few of the boys I’d grown up, who had called me names and made me a wallflower, asked me to dance.

But nothing could have prepared me for the way it would feel when Duke Tremaine took notice of me.

I had amassivecrush on him when I was a girl. He’s almost ten years older than me and had never spared me even a passing glance. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’d been away at school and was working for his father in Austin.

If I’m honest, I’ve always thought he was a bit of a …dummy. Not in the way that I was…I just struggled with reading.

He seemed to struggle with everything. But, what he lacked in brainpower, he made up for in spades with his looks and to my teenage eyes, that’s all that mattered.

And at theparty at his parent’s house, he couldn’t seem to stop looking at me. But he never asked me to dance. I was sure he’d never approach me and I certainly wasn’t going to approach him.

Then, during the fireworks display at the end of the night, he’d walked over to where I was standing and whispered in my ear that pink was his favorite color. When the party was winding down and my parents were arranging a separate ride for me so they could head to the airport, he offered to have his driver take me home.

But, Dukedidn’t take me home.

Instead, he we went to his former college fraternity house. He gave me a pill he called Molly and some vodka and we spent what felt like hours dancing.

Attention that night came in the form of smiles and caresses instead of stares and whispers. On that crowded dance floor, pressed in between sweaty bodies while the music throbbed around us, I was just like everyone else.

I told myself that if it meant nights like this, I’d wear pink dresses forever.

When we got off the dance floor, I was sweaty and giddy, and he couldn’t take his hands off me.

When he leaned down and whispered, “You wanna fuck?” in my ear, I didn’t even blink before I nodded yes.

Dina lost her virginity when we were fifteen, and I was barreling toward twenty-one and was still afraid to use a tampon.

I had been reading romance novels since I was thirteen and finding pleasure with my own fingers.

But it wasn’t enough. I wanted that fullness I read about. I wanted the kisses and foreplay and pleasure. The kind that only a man’s body could give me.

So, even though I was scared, I let him lead me up to one of the bedrooms and prayed that I was one of those girls who could lose her virginity with very little pain.

I had visions of him laying me down on a bed of beautiful sheets and easing me into womanhood with kisses and compliments.

Duke looks like every girl’s dream boyfriend. Gorgeous blond hair, muscles that never quit, a killer smile, beautiful dark eyes, and an outward veneer of charm that had girls following him around town like Gaston fromBeauty and The Beast.

But, Duke wasn’t the benign overly-confident douche in a Disney movie. Not even close.

He gave me another drink and told me to take off my clothes.

My stomach dips and lurches as the memories float around my head in a haze. That’s the last clear memory I have of that night—well that, and his friend who joined us. I don’t even know his name, and if I saw him today I wouldn’t know it was him.

By the time it actually happened, I was drunk and dizzy and could barely see. The truth is, I’m not sure who went first—him or his friend. The only clear memory I have is of the pain. It was real and righteous. Then after that, I don’t remember anything at all.

In the morning I woke up on the floor next to a girl who was naked but for the bits of toilet paper wrapped around her neck and waist.

My dress was back on, but stained, and there was blood smeared on the inside of my thighs. And in my sleep, my makeup had rubbed off and was completely gone. I stumbled around the house, apologizing when I stepped on someone or walked in on people still enjoying each other.

I found Duke in the kitchen with his friends. He paled when he saw me, like he forgot that I was there. He rushed toward me, shielding me from the view of his friends.

“Liz? Your face. Come on,” he stammered, he grabbed my arm, and frog-marched me out to the car.

I was too hungover to feel anything other than sick to my stomach with shame at his obvious embarrassment at being seen with me looking like this.

The ride home was mercifully quiet. He didn’t say anything until we got to James’s and I was getting out of the car. He grabbed my arm and linked our fingers in a display of affection that surprised and excited me.

“Don’t tell anyone about tonight. I could get in trouble. I’ll call you when I can see you again.”

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