It doesn't take me long to find him. He's seated down at the edge of the property on an oversized moss-covered log with his back towards me, hunched over. From what I can see, he's holding his head in his hands. I stand there for a few moments watching him, trying to work up the courage to approach him. I'm so confused. Why would he do that? I can't make any sense of it. He is here with Roxie, so why does he care who I am with? It's silent out here besides the distant noise of the party off in the distance. People are outside but not being loud. Some are making out, others appear passed out, face down in the yard. A group of people are hanging out off to the side, playing a game of corn hole.
"Are you okay?" I ask nervously, pausing before taking a few more cautious steps toward him. Each step I take echoes off of the nearby trees. The scattered leaves on the ground crunch beneath my feet. He doesn't respond right away. I watch him, waiting for any sign that he acknowledges me. The coldness from the ice is causing my fingers to go numb.
"Why do you even fucking care? Because I messed your pretty little boy toys face up," he growls at me under his breath. The harshness in his voice scares me, causing me to jump. I've never heard him this angry before. He lets out a deep breath, lifting his head and staring out across the fields. I don't know if I should even try to talk to him right now. He seems aggravated. No, he doesn't get to act like a fool and get away with it. I take a deep breath, stepping forward a few steps.
"First off, he's not my little boy toy. To be honest, I don't even know what his name is. I'm sure he told me what it was before, but I don't remember," I snap, fully aware of how that must make me sound. I close the small gap between us, coming to sit beside him on the log.
"Oh, and by the way, I brought you some ice and a towel. I mean, if you even care," I mumble, attempting to grab hold of his hand. Once again, I flinch as he immediately yanks his hand out of my grasp, scooting his body farther away from me.
"Look, I don't need you to come out here pretending to feel sorry for me. Or even trying to act like you give a shit," he snaps, his voice still low and angry. I try to read his face, but the darkness makes it impossible. I can't even see his features. Closing my eyes, I sit there for a few minutes, going over different versions of this scenario in my mind. He is still in the same spot when I open my eyes. After weighing my options, I decided to try again, scooting closer toward him. He doesn't pull away this time, instead his body tenses in response.
"What do you mean? I don't feel sorry for you. Why would I? You started a fight with some random dude for no reason," I begin, but he harshly cuts me off.
"No reason! Are you fucking kidding me right now? He had his fucking hands all over you!" he screams, spits flying from the corners of his mouth. The log jerks backward violently as he jumps up, frantically pacing back and forth. He looks scary, with his eyes bulging out while he tugs at his hair. I hate when he does this.
"Stop pacing and let me clean your hands, at least. It's important to see if you broke anything. If you let me at least check that, I'll leave you alone afterward. I'll go back into the party and forget this ever happened deal?" I plead with him, holding up the towel and ice, hoping to ease his anger. He stops walking long enough to stare at me. I can tell he's contemplating my offer. This makes me feel a little better.
"Whatever, do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care," he grunts, but begrudgingly strides over and sits beside me. He refuses to look at me, but agrees to hold his hand out. The smell of his blood triggers me as the metallic smell overwhelms me. I have to keep it together. I can't break down right now. It's not the time or place. Thankfully, I'm able to push past the memories. He allows me to continue wiping away the fresh blood that's trickling out. The light from my phone shines onto his hands, revealing a large amount of scars across his knuckles.
"Well, looks like this isn't the first time you've busted them open, is it?" I ask jokingly. Once again, trying to lighten the mood. He continues staying silent while I use the bloody towel to make a homemade ice pack. I place his hands in my lap, lying the ice pack down on top of them.
"No, it's not. I used to get drunk all the time and pick fights with people for fun. I haven't drunk in a long time since the accident. This is the first time," he whispers. Before suddenly going quiet once again, looking sheepishly over at me.
"What accident?" I ask him, now curious. My eyes search his, trying to read his expression. But they're blank. There's no trace of emotion in them.
"Look, no offense, but I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm not in the mood to be all touchy-feely with my emotions. But if you want, there is something else I'm in the mood for. You can help me out with another problem I have," he whispers, his mood shifting drastically in a split second.
I know he's only distracting me, trying to change the subject. I want to know what accident he's talking about, but he looks so damn good. Even in the dark, I'm attracted to him. He catches me off guard, grabbing my hand that's still holding onto the icepack. The butterflies in my stomach instantly start swarming around. He drives me insane. I don't resist when he moves my hand, placing it onto his bare abs. I've studied his tattoos enough I can trace the lines in the dark. His body relaxes under my gentle touch. Despite the chilly temperatures outside, his bare skin is warm to the touch.
"You're crazy, you know that, right?" I can't help but laugh. His mood swings remind me of a roller coaster, with the highs and then the lows.
"Is that a problem? Come on, you know you want to. I know I'm better than that douche. Besides, I know I can make you nut," he jokes. His eyes light up as he grins. It's rare to see him smile, but when he does, it's worth it. The bad part about all this is I know he's telling the truth. Out of all the guys I have ever been with, he has given me the best orgasm. Sex with Johnny was amazing. He knew everything about me, all my spots. But there is something about Hayden that drives me absolutely nuts. I can't get enough of him. The thought of fucking him right now has me hot and bothered.
"Hell, even my sister thinks you need to get laid," he smiles, raising his eyebrow at me. "Let's go, you know it'll be fun," he whispers, touching his hand to my cheek. His touch feels soothing against the coolness of my face. His hands are soft, yet I'm still able to feel the roughness of calluses and cracks across his flawed skin.
"We are not having sex out here in the cold in front of all these people. I may be a little off but I'm not that damn crazy," I exclaim, surprised. While pointing out the fact we're in a backyard with random drunk college kids sprawled out here and there. The harsh wind agrees with me and whips around us, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I shiver as cold chills cover most of my body. He seems unfazed by the chilly night air despite his chest being entirely exposed.
"Well duh, silly, I told you once before I don't have sex outside," he whispers. "Did you think I was lying?" His comment reminded me of the first time we fooled around. It seems like forever ago, even though it's only been a few months. I had snuck off into the woods with someone I had never spoken to besides a few words. Not my finest hour, but one I would not take back. I watch as he turns his face towards me. His cologne smells delicious as he leans forward, closing the gap between us.
In slow motion, he guides my hand away from his stomach and to his face. My fingers trace along his cheek and across his lips. I inhale sharply when he slides my fingers into his mouth. I study him, sucking and licking along each one. His saliva glistens in the pale moonlight. I can't move. I'm frozen in place. My hand automatically drops into my lap upon release from his grip. His shoulder graces mine as he leans over nibbling along my neck.
"I'm horny as hell and I want you right now. Either you're in or you're not, but I'm heading in. If you're not too scared, go to the upstairs bathroom at the far end of the hall first, okay? Then in about ten minutes, I'll come up. It won't look suspicious. Besides, everyone is completely drunk off their asses anyway," he propositions me. While now sucking and blowing on my earlobe. I'm melting beneath his touch, but I still have my doubts. I'm not trying to go hang around in some smelly fraternity bathroom looking like an idiot.
"No one ever uses that one because the toilets broke," he offhandedly mentions. I'm caught off guard almost like he is reading my mind. "Come on, please," he begs. His teeth shimmer, smiling at his clever idea. I can't help but smirk at him in return.
He sure knows how to get to me. Like he knows exactly what to do to get me to let my guard down, which is a very dangerous thing. He's already becoming one of my major weaknesses. The more we're around each other, the more I can sense my emotions toward him growing. I don't know if this is what I want or not. All I know at this moment is that I'm extremely vulnerable and horny. I'll explode if I don't get off in the next hour. If that.
"Ten minutes, that's all u get. I'm not playing, I mean it. If you're not there, I might have to go find Mr. Football Player," I tease, standing up, and adjusting my dress. I glance back at him one more time before walking back up towards the house. My comment struck a nerve. His facial expression had changed to a sour look. Almost like he had been sucking on a lemon.
I'm glad we came inside. It's getting even more chilly and this skimpy costume doesn't provide much cover. Neither does the cape. It helps to block some of the wind, but not all.
What am I doing? I haven't even talked to him all week. He's been a complete asshole to me. Not to mention we both have been hanging on other people tonight. He wasn't worried about me when old girl was in his lap. But yet here I am on my way to the bathroom to wait. I'm horrible.
As I walk into the kitchen, the music is still blaring. I glance around, my eyes landing on an entire container of that pink fuzzy drink sitting on the counter. Grabbing a red solo cup, I fill it to the brim. Without thinking, I down it in several gulps. Before moving away, I refill it. This time taking my time to sip on it.
"Hey, are you going to be ready to leave soon? Hope has got a headache from the fog machine" Sky approaches me when I walk back into the hallway. As if it's a sign from the universe that I need to chill my ass out. Looking around her, my eyes travel to the staircase behind her.
"Umm, Yea, can you give me like a half hour please" I beg her, putting my hands up into a praying position. While managing to hold on to my cup pursed between my lips. Of course, in complete Bex fashion and ignoring the universe's clear sign.
"Yeah, that's fine. I'm not ready to leave yet, anyway. Come find us whenever you're ready. I'm going to tell Hope I couldn't find you," she giggles. "Shhh, remember it's our little secret," she mouths to me as she turns around, winking before walking off. I watch for a few seconds as she heads back towards the group. I need to make sure she doesn't see me heading upstairs and wants to be nosy. My friends are still sitting on the couch smoking another round of weed, laughing, and goofing off.
The guilt creeps up on me. Once again here I am jeopardizing our friendship for my selfish pleasure. She's going to hate me if she finds out. It's only a matter of time. As the old saying goes, what happens in the dark has a way of coming to the light no matter what. But I don't want to think about that right now. I clear my mind, rushing up the steps before I have time to change my mind.
I've never been up here. It's a lot cleaner than it is downstairs. It smells much better too. You can tell no one uses this floor very much. They probably only come up to sleep and have random hookups. My stomach turns at the thought of what has happened in some of these rooms.
They have painted the walls a light green lime color. It goes well with the original wooden borders and floors. Pictures of old fraternities line the walls. Some of them dated as far back as the 1950s. They range from older black-and-white photos to the more recent colored ones. You can tell the differences between the eras and styles. It's like watching history through them as they develop as time passes.
There's a giant bay window with a built-in wooden bench that sits at the far end of the long hall. That would be an exceptional place to sit and be able to get lost in a good book. I would love to have somewhere like that to go, especially when I was younger. I loved the adventure that each book contained. The details allow you to get lost in the words. My mind conjures up little make-believe scenes to go along with the stories. Reading and writing at one time was my escape from reality.
But then it all changed. Sex and drugs worked better for me. I lost interest and gave up on it all. I miss those days. It hurts to think about my innocent days. I never would have pictured this would be my life.
A small white door sits off to the side next to the bench. I hope this is where I'm supposed to go. I rack my brain, attempting to recall Hayden's mediocre directions. All those pink drinks are clouding my memory. I hope this is the right door. I would hate to burst in on someone doing the deed. It's happened to me and it's not fun. It's embarrassing.
The door looks older. The paint is chipping in several spots. There's a large crack running along the bottom. It doesn't sound like anyone is behind the door, so I'm assuming it's the right room. I reach for the brass doorknob, jumping back. A jolt of static electricity shocks me. Not too much, but enough to give me one clearer sign the universe is against this decision. Of course, I choose to ignore this warning as well.
The bathroom is surprisingly clean. Hayden must have been right. It doesn't appear that anyone uses it much. The only dirt seems to be thick layers of dust. It is on the smaller side. I'm used to being in the large, shared restrooms at the dorms. I haven't been in a personal bathroom in a while. Looking around, the toilet and sink are only about a foot or two away from the shower.
A tall rectangular mirror sits behind the sink. All four corners appear cracked, with spidered webs of glass surrounding them. Obvious watermarks splashed across several spots of the glass clouded my view.
The green and white floor tiles also have deep cracks in a few places. The dust has covered most of the baseboards. Large, overwhelming piles over the years have caked into the corners of the walls. Someone has even placed a giant piece of cardboard taped across the toilet. It reads "do not use" in big, bold red block letters.
Against my better judgment, I use my hand to remove the thick layer of dust from the toilet before sitting down on it. My mind races faster. What am I doing? What if he doesn't show up? I will look like an idiot, sitting in an abandoned bathroom. Let's not even mention how desperate and pathetic I would appear. I'm regretting this whole idea. What if it's a setup or some kind of sick joke?
After a few minutes, I was able to calm my worries down by reminding myself he wanted me. I know he did. It's written all over his face. You can't make that up. I don't care how good a person's acting is. I'm getting a little antsy when suddenly there's a soft knock at the door.