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Pain.
Sharp, biting pain spread through me like wildfire. More pain than I’d ever had in my entire life. Then again, I’d never been stabbed before, so I didn’t really have much to compare this to. I tried asking “Who” or maybe “Why” but all that came from me was ragged, agony-filled breaths. I was on the floor in the fetal position, unable to move much, the pain was so great.
The man was shrouded in blackness, and I wasn’t able to see who he was. All I knew was that this was not how I expected this night to go. This…this wasn’t how I wanted to die. There was still so much I wanted to do, so much I needed to do.
My eyes rolled back in my head, and the last thing I remembered before meeting the embrace of the unknown was the feeling of fire in my gut, bone-shattering pain that would linger with me for the rest of my days…
Assuming I had any left after this.
Then, blackness.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Ash
Sawyer’s party was definitely winding down. Most everyone had stumbled—or driven—home already, so when I went inside, immediately feeling the music pounding in my veins, I spotted a few stragglers in the living room, slowly dancing even though the song was an upbeat, fast one.
I moved right past them, heading into the kitchen. Sawyer could’ve been upstairs, balls deep in another nameless girl, which honestly I’d been preparing myself for, but I was lucky to find him in the kitchen, his hands trembling as he went from bottle to bottle. The mountain of alcohol that usually supplied his parties looked well-used and well-loved, and judging by the frantic movements of Sawyer, most of the bottles were empty. No specially-mixed purple drinks this time.
I studied Sawyer’s movements. Just by the way he lumbered between the bottles, slurring his words as he swore to himself when he found nothing but empty bottles, I knew he was inebriated enough. Enough to be awake, enough for me to lead him upstairs with the promise of sex, but not enough that he would pass out. Yeah, me dragging his ass up those stairs? Not fun, I’d imagine.
With the backpack feeling oddly heavy on my back, I spoke, “Sawyer.” At my voice, he turned around, and I noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. He said nothing, his stare eating me up, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t tell if I was really here or not. “I’m surprised you aren’t upstairs with a girl,” I added, unable to stop myself.
“You,” he said, lumbering towards me, practically tripping over his own feet to get to me. “You fucked me up, Ash.” His words were so slurred it was hard to understand him, and yet I knew what he meant perfectly.
I fucked him up. I tended to do that. The broken people flocked to me like I was their savior and their priest, and I usually only ended up fucking them up even more.
He blamed me for his current state, which didn’t surprise me. A guy like him, a spoiled little brat like him, never took the blame for what he did. It was always someone else’s fault…even if, in this case, it was true. I fucked him up.
I could smell the alcohol on his breath as I took a step forward, reaching up to his face and dragging my fingers along his jaw, catching the prickly stubble as I went. “I’m sorry I fucked you up, Sawyer. I’ve just…never met a man like you before.” Stroking even a drunk man’s ego would get you places.
Men. Fucking stupid, that’s what.
He snatched my hand off his face, holding onto my wrist a bit tighter than he should. I held back a wince, for he held onto the hand I’d dislodged not too long ago. It was nearly healed now, but it wouldn’t take much to undo the healing.
“Fuck you,” Sawyer muttered, frowning. “Fuck you and your hair, and your face, and your…your…” He stumbled over his words even more, and I was able to pull my wrist out of his grasp. He swayed on his feet, and I grabbed his hand, steadying him a bit.
“I need to talk to you,” I said. “Can we go upstairs?” He was too out of it to notice my backpack, too drunk to wonder why I’d want to talk to him upstairs when I could just talk to him right now.
“No,” he said, but I was able to drag him along anyway.
Through the hall, up the stairs. Thankfully his bedroom was not being used by anybody, although the sheets were crumpled and stained, and the air reeked of sex, so I could tell someone had used it tonight. I wondered if it was Sawyer, and if it was…my patience with him would run thin.
I didn’t get a chance to say anything else, nor did I even get a chance to close the door behind me. Sawyer had me pinned against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye, digging the contents of the backpack into my spine as he gave me the world’s sloppiest kiss.
The scent of alcohol was rank in my nose, and it took everything inside of me to not gag and immediately push him away.
Sawyer was a little frisky when he was drunk, apparently. Then again, he was pretty frisky when he wasn’t drunk, too.
“Why do you make me so crazy?” Sawyer whined, breaking our lips apart just enough so that he could speak. With every word, his lips grazed mine, but I could not get over his breath. If he wasn’t drunk—if he wasn’t Sawyer, who constantly fucked up—maybe I could get behind this. Maybe I could forget about what I’d come here to do and just give my body the release it’d been craving since first coming to Hillcrest.
I said nothing, setting both of my hands on his firm, strong chest—possibly the most muscular chest I’d ever touched—and moved him backward, pushing him down to the bed. He didn’t resist me, nor did he stop me when I crawled on top of him. We inched up the bed until our heads were near his pillows.
His bedframe was the only way I’d be able to do this. Since I’d been in his room before, I knew what it looked like. I knew what to do. The problem was figuring out how to do it without him catching on.
I brought my lips to his neck, watching as his eyelids fluttered closed as I started to shower his throat with greedy, hungry kisses. He didn’t even ask about the backpack, the stupid drunk fool. In the morning, I’d make sure he regretted everything.
This wasn’t about finally coming together. This wasn’t about giving in to the sexual tension between us and knowing what the other felt like. This was about payback, pure and simple. This was revenge for everything he’d ever done to Declan, for turning the whole campus against him, and generally for being such a huge dick.
As I kissed his neck, he let out a moan, his hands grabbing my ass. I rolled my eyes to myself, quietly slipping the backpack off my shoulders and setting it beside us. The problem would be unzipping it while he was too delirious to pay attention.
