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14
Carrigan
My feet are moving, but I’m not sure that I’m the reason they’re doing it. The last fifteen minutes definitely happened, I can feel it in the shaking of my legs and the warmth that’s still flowing through me after the two orgasms he gave me.
I just had sex with Carson Windsor, again, in a room at our school, over the arm of an old couch. I let him touch me, take me, talk dirty to me, and it was unbelievable. As sense starts to come back to me, I realize that what just happened was so stupid. I need to distance myself from Carson, my sister, and their friends, so why do I seem unable to ignore him?
Everything about him is becoming a compulsion, and even though I know he’s bad for me, I can’t tell him no. Right now, his cold but exciting commands are the only kind of connection I feel capable of. My sister is there offering me a relationship, but I don’t want it, I don’t deserve it, but I can’t seem to walk away from him as easily as I can her.
Darting into the closest bathroom, I lock myself in a cubicle and clean up as best as I can without a shower. A part of me feels used, but the rest of me feels like I’m using him just as much and I’m not sure if that makes me pathetic, or a worse person than I thought I was.
After flushing the toilet, I wash my hands then leave the bathroom, stepping into the empty corridor. I used to love coming to St Augustus, this school was my platform, a place where I was adored, even if it was only because they wanted to use me. Now I’m a pariah, the formerly almost super rich, it’s not exactly the most impressive title.
As I walk down the corridor, no one looks at me, I don’t get more than a cursory wink from a guy who I wouldn’t have even glanced at a week ago. I’m not important or interesting anymore, no one envies me, no one wants me, or wants to use me, they just don’t care, and as the realization dawns on me, tears fill my eyes.
I want my mom, only she doesn’t care now either, because I ruined all of our lives and I have no one else to blame but me. I walk faster, then I’m running down the hallway, through the school and out the front door. I can’t be here, I can’t be this nobody, I just can’t.
Rushing across the lawns I dart for the road, pulling up the Uber app on my cell and almost collapsing with relief when there’s a driver only four minutes away from me. My bag is still in my locker, all I have is my cell phone and my credit card that my parents could have cancelled by now, but I can’t go back. I can’t face my classmate’s ambivalence.
When the car pulls to the curb I climb in, wiping the tears from my eyes as I slide into the back seat. The driver glances at me in the rear-view mirror, her hair a mass of black, tightly wound curls that almost touch the roof, and her eyes soften when she sees my tears.
“You okay sweetie?”
I nod, not speaking, and after a moment of awkward silence she pulls away from the curb and blends into the lunchtime traffic. Pulling my cell from my blazer pocket I wonder if maybe Carson will have text me again, but the screen is empty and silent.
When the hotel comes into view, my seatbelt is unclipped and I’m opening the door before we even come to a full stop. “Thanks,” I say offhandedly, as I jump free from the car and rush into the hotel lobby. Reaching the elevator I stab the call button, realizing too late that my room key is in my bag, in my locker at school.
Sighing wearily, I turn and pad across the lobby to the reception desk, inhaling sharply and trying to keep the tears that are leaking from my eyes at bay.
“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” the chipper male receptionist asks me, his smile wide, flashing his gleaming white perfectly straight teeth.
“I’ve lost my key card, could I have a replacement please?” I ask, my voice a little shaky as I try valiantly to keep my emotional meltdown under wraps.
“Of course, what’s your room number?”
“1065.”
His fingers tap away at the computer in front of him for a second, before he looks up and smiles at me. “Your name please?”
“Carrigan Archibald.”
“And do you have the payment card you provided us with?”
Handing over my credit card, I pull in shallow breaths trying to stay calm as misery consumes me.
“Okay, here is your key, we have you due to check out tomorrow, do you need a wakeup call or any breakfast orders placing?” he asks, his smile never slipping an inch.
“No, I need to extend my stay for a week please,” I say, turning to leave, my new key card gripped tightly in my hand.
“Miss Archibald, I apologize, but I’m afraid your room isn’t available after tomorrow.”
“Okay, just book me into a different suite,” I say.
“I’m afraid all of the suites are booked for the next five days, we have a large group of guests that have reserved all of the suites, as well as both penthouse apartments. We do have standard rooms available,” he says, his infuriating smile still firmly fixed in place.
“Oh my god, are you serious,” I shriek, the tears I’ve been fighting to hold back finally breaking free.
“Please accept my apologies Miss Archibald, I can check at our sister hotel in Brooklyn.”
