Page 7 of Stay
Seriously, I cannot catch a break here.
I waggle my finger between us. I have to stifle a groan because he’s so damn close. And yes, I probably should have known he would smell amazing. Like the ocean on a perfectly sunny day with just a hint of a breeze. I want to inhale a big breath of him. I don’t dare because he’s much too dangerous for the likes of me.
“This.”
“I just want to know your name,” he replies quietly as if he actually means it.
I can’t deny that a tiny part of me wants to tell him.
Holding firm against all that cuteness packaged neatly in front of me, I force myself to give him a patronizing look. “Right.” I roll my eyes. “Sure, you do.” Then I go for the kill. “Look, I’m not going to fuck you. Not tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or ever.”
I point to all the scantily clad girls that surround us.
Of which there are many.
“There are a lot easier marks around here than me. Go find one of them to play with.”
I spin back around but don’t get far. Surprised by the sudden grip on my upper arm, he swings me to him. His brows are scrunched and low over his eyes as he glares.
“I’m not interested in getting laid, and it’s a shitty assumption for thinking that’s the only reason I’d want to talk with you.”
Eyes wide, I freeze beneath his touch as my heart jackhammers painfully. A sudden release of adrenaline careens through my veins as sweat pops out across my brow and my chest tightens. Even though his grip isn’t punishing, it has every cell in my body seizing with panic.
I don’t like being touched. Or grabbed. Or manhandled.
In all honesty, I’d been nice to Alex and had let him off easy.
But this…thisisn’t okay.
“Take your hand off me!” I growl, unable to stop the fine tremble from sliding through my body.
His eyes widen as he drops my arm as if I’ve burned him with the heat of my words. Silently, we stare for a long, painful heartbeat. Or maybe it’s twenty. The rowdy laughter and pulsing music that surrounds us fades to the background.
My ragged breath hitches as I suck in oxygen before forcing it slowly out.
Even though he’s dropped my arm, I’m still gripped by a tidal wave of anxiety as it crashes over me, threatening to drag me under. The slight trembling turns into bone-shaking tremors. My chest feels like it is being squeezed by a vise.
I can’t breathe.
I have to get out of here.
A few more seconds and I’ll be choking on my panic. I can feel the familiar tendrils coiling inside me. The last thing I need is to lose my shit in front of all these drunken strangers.
Silently, I spin on my heels before shoving my way through the thick press of bodies until I reach the front door. As soon as I get to the porch, the brisk night air slaps at my cheeks, and I inhale deep gulps of fresh air before stumbling my way down the sidewalk like a drunken idiot. I need to put as much distance as I can between myself and that party. Even though I try to settle the frantic thoughts rolling through my head, it’s impossible.
It’s too late to rein in all my out-of-control emotions.
Bending over, I vomit my dinner onto someone’s overgrown frontyard. The only bright side I can find in this mess is that my pile of puke probably won’t be the only one gracing the lawn come morning.
3
CASSIDY
Alow groan rumbles its way from deep within the mountain of pillows and blankets.
“I don’t feel good,” the voice croaks. “I think I have the flu.”
I snort with about as much derision as I can muster. “What you technically have is called the twenty-four-hour booze flu,” I singsong gleefully before yanking open the thick, ugly blue curtains covering our dorm room window and allowing bright sunlight to filter in.
