turnpike

x

He drags a hand across his mouth when he pulls back, remnants of my lipstick on his skin. He may bear my mark, but I know he will never truly be mine. Yet, I am his.

"I've had three guys ask about you tonight."

It takes me a moment to register that he's speaking, for me to pull my head up from underwater and hear anything other than the rush of white noise.

"Yeah?" I breathe out. "Who?"

He presses against me again, harder this time. "That doesn't matter."

"Come on," I say, placing my hands on his chest, tempted to push him away but unable to do it. "Tell me."

"Rob, Dave, Peter, Josh... I don't know."

"That's four," I point out.

A new warmth blooms in my chest, briefly distracting me from the pain. Is this what it feels like to be wanted?

"Who cares," he growls, dipping his head to my neck, teeth scraping against the delicate skin. "All that matters is that I'm going to be the one fucking you at the end of the night, not them."

"I don't know," I tease, forgetting myself for a moment. "Sounds like I have options."

When he stills, I know I've made a grave mistake.

"It sounds like you're a huge fucking slut."

The blood rushing through my head almost overpowers what I'm about to say. "Come on, I didn't mean it like that." I curl my fingers into his shirt, afraid of what he'll try next. "I was just kidding. You know I wouldn't."

His hands drop from my hips. Still, I'll have bruises in the shape of his fingertips for days to come. "Do I?"

He's lifted his head, but I can't bear to meet his eye. "I haven't been with anyone else but you."

I know he knows this. He's known it since he saw those bloodstained sheets the morning after, neither of us daring to speak of it but undoubtedly comprehending what it meant. He knows he was my first, and I'm sure he knows he's been my only as well. He hasn't given me any time for there to be anyone else.

"Do you want to be?" he asks.

I don't know. I don't know anyone else but him.

I don't know anything else but this.

"Not tonight," I say, hands trailing down his chest, slowing only when I reach his belt. I'm falling back on old habits, bad habits, but I can't stop myself. "I only want you."

His fingers settle on my back again, as if to brace us both. "Desperation isn't a good look for you, baby."

The jab stings, and it's enough to make me draw back. More than that, it makes me realize just what he's shaped me into over all these months.

A whore. His whore.

"Oh."

His laugh is deep and low and I can swear I feel it in my bones when he pulls me back to him. "Relax. I didn't say it was unwelcome."

Even through his jeans I can already tell he's hard, but at this point, I don't care.

"I need to get back to my friends," I mumble, trying to force my way out of his grip, but he only tightens his hold.

"I saw you come in with Callie and Ashleigh." He tilts his head to the side, staring me down. "I can't believe you're still friends with them."

I shouldn't be, I know that. It's another thing he knows as well, and now he's taunting me.

"Why would you want to be friends with such shitty girls anyway?" he continues, guiding my hands back to his belt buckle. "What kind of people ditch their friend at a party? You're all lucky it was me who found you that night and not any of the other guys. Who knows what they could have done to you."

I don't think anyone would call waking up beside their friend's boyfriend with little recollection of the night before lucky, but he's always had a different sense of fortune than the rest of us.

"Actually," he laughs, his lips ghosting over the corner of my mouth. "What's really lucky is that she never found out about what we did."

My stomach rolls over on itself and a cold sweat breaks out across my brow. He talks about that night as if the worst thing that happened was my friends leaving me behind, but that was only the start of it. He was the end.

"I should go," I blurt, suddenly lightheaded. I can't be here, not now, not anymore. This reminder has snapped something within me, and everything is wrong again.

"I don't think so."

His mouth is on mine, kissing hard. I jerk back when his teeth sink into my bottom lip, a flash of pain to drag me back into reality.

"Come on." I'm pleading now, just a step up from begging on my knees. "We should get back to the party."

"Not until we finish what you started."

I'm drowning again, being dragged under by his current without a chance to breathe. I don't know how much time passes, but I'm brought back when someone inhales sharply. It's not me. And it's not him either.

"Oh my God."

He's slow to pull away, slow to turn his head and look towards the open door. His eyes are hooded, annoyed, like he can't believe we've been interrupted.

But I can believe it. It's been a long time coming.

"Callie," I say, and I'm almost relieved.

This is how it should have been that night. This is how it should have ended. It shouldn't have even begun.

Why didn't you come back for me, Callie? Why did you leave me?

There are tears in her eyes but not a hint of sadness. No, this is anger, pure betrayal, and I'm the one it's all focused on. I'm the villain in this story and the crowd will curse my name for eternity; there is no chance of redemption. There never was, and there never could have been. He saw to that.

Of course, he's innocent in it all, absolutely untouchable, but this is nothing new. He's done it before and he'll do it again, and this same old song will keep playing on until he tells it to stop.

"It's been you all along, hasn't it?" Callie seethes, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together for her. "You were the one fucking him behind my back this whole time."

I want to explain, want to make her understand that my choices in this have always been limited, but I know there's nothing I can say. I will play the role I've been placed in to the best of my ability and without a single complaint.

"How could you do this?" Her little chest is heaving and her foundation is streaked with tracks of tears. "What the hell did I ever do to make you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you," I say softly. "I could never hate you. You're my friend, Callie."

"Yeah? Well, friends don't do this to each other."

She turns, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and I want nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. But to her this is all my fault, and my attempts to soothe will not be viewed kindly.

When Callie disappears around the corner, he turns back to me and rolls his eyes.

"What a fucking bitch," he says, hands slipping up underneath my shirt, scorching my skin. "But whatever, at least it's all out in the open now."

It is, and I've officially lost everything.

Everything except for him.

There's a choice in front of me now, a fork in the road that I must assess. One will lead me to a chance at freedom, but fear of the unknown haunts the path. The other is familiar and welcoming, but there will always be something sinister snaking around my ankle, threatening to drag me down. At least on this path the devil is known.

But sleeping with the devil means waking up in hell.

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