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Great for tonight but as I stride along the driveway to the street, having to unlatch a side gate to reach the public domain of the footpath, the proximity grows more uncomfortable.
What happens if I’m hanging around, outside the school gates, and he walks past? How embarrassing would that be?
Bad enough if he strolled past by himself or doing something mundane like walking a dog.
Terrible if he was out for a walk with his wife.
The crispness of the early morning air cools my cheeks, but it does nothing to stop the repeated rush of blood to them, shame clinging to me like a limpet.
I remember dancing with the man, thinking that Floss missed out because he was so nice, so attentive, his body moving against mine in delightful ways.
Then everything gets spotty.
I was dancing, then it seemed more like the room danced around me. My body overheated until I had to go outside, gulping in the cool night air like a tonic.
He followed me, his hands feeling so good, so natural, sorighton my body. There’s a gap where my memory is eaten by a black hole, then I’m against a wall while his cock impales me and the whole thing is so fucking good that I’m angry as well as ashamed.
Why are the best things in life always complicated with so much crap?
There are only brief flickers of anything past that. It’s like the rest of the night slid down a deep, dark hole.
This is exactly the reason I swore to myself I wouldn’t do things like this again. Any pleasure I wrung from our connection last night is fading, blown away by the cruel reality of my misjudgement.
I’ve scolded myself so much that by the time I reach Kingswood College and swipe myself in, I’m exhausted. When I unlock my room, all I want to do is take a couple of aspirin, drink a tall glass of water, and flop into bed.
Except Marnie lies there already.
“Are you okay?” she gushes, leaping to her feet, hugging me then standing back, eyes scouring me from head to toe.
“You’re asking me that?” Her face is half obscured by the bandages, more shocking in real life than they were on my phone. “What happened?”
“Floss was sparring with a blonde lady,” Marnie says, dragging me to the bed until we’re both lying on top of the covers. “The woman got so heated, she aimed a punch at her, but she’s got wicked reflexes. When she ducked, guess who was standing just behind her.”
“You’re kidding!” I take as close a look as I can around the edges of the gauze. “And it still did this much damage?”
“Yeah. Apparently, I’m made of glass.”
“So it seems.”
“Sorry we left you behind. I don’t know what happened. Brooke and Floss were in the back seat with me, and I just assumed you were in the front.”
“I was probably in the bathroom,” I say with a shrug, dismissing the awful minutes when I searched and couldn’t find them in the club. “The line took so long to move, it was dreadful.”
“And then you didn’t text.”
I haul my phone out, staring at the screen. The battery’s already down to twenty. “It’s my phone. For some reason, it’s draining the battery life far too quickly.”
“Probably got a virus from watching all that porn.”
My hands reach around her waist to squeeze her tightly in a hug. “Probably.”
“And what’s this?” She plucks at the sleeve of my stolen cardigan. “You went clothes shopping after midnight, did you?”
I drop my forehead, so it rests against the knobby bits of her upper spine, feeling that pinch of extreme guilt again. I’ve never borrowed something before without returning it in the same condition. Much as I’d like to offer a replacement, I know I can’t afford it. My uncle washed his hands of me the moment I took up the scholarship and the amount I earn from selling essays and IDs won’t get me anywhere close.
“What is it?” Marnie asks, concern etched deep in her voice.
“I’m so sorry,” I begin then choke to a stop, another flood of uncharacteristic tears clogging my throat.
