by Belle Aurora
Parking the car, I move to exit the car when Lexi tugs on my sleeve. “Before we go in, can I please talk to you about something?”
She says this so quietly that my lips turn down into a deep frown. We were having a good time tonight, and I know whatever she has to say is serious. Turning to look at her, I answer, “Sure.”
Looking down at her hands, she starts, “Michael came to see me this morning. And while we were talking, he told me how much he likes his job, and that he likes you a lot, even if you can be scary. I can tell he looks up to you a lot.” Blinking rapidly, she rambles, “Which is great, because he needs a good male role model in his life. Especially one as successful as you, so I don’t want you to think I’m on your back or anything given that you gave him a job that he needed, with no questions asked and—”
I cut her off, “This story got a point?”
Looking up at me, her pupils dilated, I can tell the weed has affected her, even though it was a small amount. She breathes, “Right.” Swallowing hard, she whispers, “He…he sort of looked like he went into his head a little while and mentioned something…something about cutting, stabbing, and gouging.”
My face devoids of all emotion.
That boy and I will be having a good talk tomorrow.
She sees the immediate change on my face and backs up, “He didn’t say much…”
“He said something.”
Rolling her eyes, she states, “He only said that because he thinks you’re my boyfriend!” Then she scoffs as if this was the most ridiculous notion she’s ever heard.
And just like that, everything I began feeling for Lexi over the last few days shrivels, shrinks, and dies away.
This is what she thinks of you. You’re not good enough for her. You’ll never be good enough for her. You’ll always be too street for her. She’ll never see you the way you want her to. And for good reason. You are scum…and you know it.
“Inside.” I seethe as I exit the car.
Hearing the car door shut behind me, I don’t wait for her as I approach the house. Walking up the front steps, the quick clicking of heels lets me know I’m walking too fast for her to keep up.
But I don’t care.
Walking up the steps, I hear her call out, “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be down in five.”
Because, truthfully, I need that five minutes to get my shit under control.
Finding a deserted corner in the ballroom, I watch through rose-colored glasses as everyone converses around me. I’m a wallflower. Or at least I will be until Twitch comes back down.
I don’t know what I said to upset him, but I know it was something bad enough that he needed to get away from me that minute.
My foggy mind seems to be playing in slow motion, or even at a delayed pace, because an irritated cough lets me know that I’m not alone.
Blinking, I look up to find Ling holding out a mirror. Six lines of white powder sit on top of it, so neat, so pretty, that they actually look appetizing.
I know what it is. I don’t have to have seen cocaine before to know that is exactly what I’m looking at. I’ve never done a drug so strong in all my life. Pot was the only drug I did, and even then it was only a few times in university. Until tonight.
Suddenly, I’m wistful.
The thoughts of how free the pot makes me feel return.
My body turns light. My frazzled brain clears. My inhibitions, gone.
Ling waves the mirror under my nose. I know what she’s doing. I know what this is.
This is a dare.
She wants to see how far I’ll go. And tonight, for Twitch, I’ll show her just how far.
I pluck the short straw from her fingers and our eyes meet. Her brows rise in question. Lowering my face to the white gold, I put the straw to my nose.
Before I can stop myself, I snort.
One line.
A small smile forms on Ling’s face. She’s impressed. She can’t believe I did it.
Neither can I.
Just as she moves to walk away, I lift the straw and snort again.
Her eyes widen in stunned disbelief. She blinks a moment before she catches herself. Bowing almost regally, she walks away to offer the stash to another guest.
A few minutes pass – at least I think it’s a few minutes – and I feel the change.
Wow.
I can see everything. And I mean everything.
I can see colors shoot out of the stereo speakers, along with the beat of the music.
Bright explosions of orange and pink and white swirl around the dancing guests.
And I’m delighted.
I can see the thoughts shooting out of people’s heads.
Some dark. Some sexy. Some plain fucked up.
I can see the air moving. Dancing. It’s begging me to join it.
Laughing out loud, I run a hand down my face before I stand and let One Republic’s Counting Stars wash over me.
I’m euphoric.
In a state of ecstasy.
And it’s bliss.
The music calls my name.
I need to dance.
Walking down the stairs, I pop the link into the button hole on the cuff of my shirt. My brow furrows when I see people gathered around the center of the ballroom.
Curious as to what’s causing the assembly, I walk a little faster the rest of the way down. I don’t have a good feeling.
My gut clenches at the sight of her.
Lexi dances off-beat to the music, at her own pace. The skirt of her short black dress swishes around her thighs, lifting high enough to see the rounded cheeks of her ass.
She looks lost. And at the very same time, found.
The void in her eyes alerts me to the fact that she’s high. Higher than high, actually.
She’s wasted.
Fuck.
Searching the ballroom, I spot Ling leaning against the wall in the shadows, smirking at the sight of Lexi. Walking with a purpose, Ling spots me a few seconds before I get to her. Smile now gone, fear shines brightly in her eyes.
She should be scared.
If someone approached me looking the way I do right now, I’d shit my pants.
Walking harder, I don’t stop until we’re toe-to-toe. Leaning down into her face, I ask in perfect calm, “What did you give her?”
Eyes wide, Ling opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
My eye twitches. The rage starts to alight the blood in my veins.
Raising my hand in slow motion, I place it on her collar bone at her neck, resting it there.
A warning.
“What did you give her?”
Ling replies in panic, “She took it herself! I just offered it to her.”
The hand at her throat tightening, I hold myself back. Dipping my chin, my eyes close as I breathe deeply, trying to get myself under control.
Releasing her, I stand tall, straightening my jacket. “What’d she take?”
Ling remains silent. I keep my eyes on hers.
My scowl is enough to make her whisper, “Blow. Two lines.”
My jaw steels.
That’s a lot of cocaine for someone who doesn’t do drugs. No wonder she’s putting on a show.
Ignoring Ling’s terrified expression, I turn to the space that’s been cleared for Lexi’s performance.
Under the spotlight, I see the perspiration on her forehead reflect the gleaming light. Her hips sway from side to side, flowing like the rolling waves of the ocean. Her hands splayed on her hips slide slowly up her ribs to cup her breasts.
She looks beautiful. Like the angel I always knew she was.
An angel…
I hate her for that. Why couldn’t she have been an asshole? It would’ve made things so much easier for me.
The hands on her breasts squeeze gently for a few seconds before they trail higher up her chest. Eyes still closed and swaying sensually, she uses one hand to squeeze the side of her neck, while the other slithers
up past her ear to slide into her hair. She tangles her fingers into her dark locks, and her hips jerk suddenly.
The vision of Lexi in a sexual trance is enough to give me hardcore wood.
Her lips part in a silent sigh.
The hand squeezing her neck glides down slowly across her breast once more, then lower still. When the hand sliding down her body halts low on her stomach, my cock twitches.
My eyes trained on her face, I watch her closed eyes and parted lips with only one thing in mind.
I want her. Now.
I’m snapped from my thoughts when I hear cat calls. Looking around, my body turns rigid when I spot Lexi.
In the middle of the ballroom. Under the spotlight. In a haze.
Her hand disappears under her dress, rubbing her pussy through the tiny white G-string. The other hand gently pinching a nipple through the silky white fabric of her dress. Mouth parted, head thrown back in ecstasy.
Swallowing hard, I openly stare.
She’s fucking beautiful.
No reticence. Just living through the beat of the song.
A tall guy I’ve met a few times before lingers at the edge of her space before walking across the ballroom.
My brow furrows.
He walks up behind Lexi, wrapping one arm across her stomach, pulling her back to his front. I can’t hear it, but I see her mouth part a little more in what looks like a moan. She leans back into him, taking his hand, pulling it down her body and replacing it with hers at her mound.
My head pounds.
She starts a soft circling motion with her hips, and I know she’s rubbing her sweet ass into his dick.
The thing about my brain is that it’s damaged. Thoughts don’t get processed the way other people’s do.
In fact, the term think doesn’t apply to me.
Stalking across the ballroom, I reach Lexi’s front. Gripping her forearm, I pull her away from the fucker. Hard.
She stumbles, but I don’t notice.
I don’t notice, because tall guy is already on his back.
My fists pound into his face continuously. Hard and fast. Face contorted in anger, my chest heaves with every heavy breath I take.
A spatter of wet warmth spurts across my face.
Blood roars through my ears. I don’t hear the screaming and shouting for me to stop.
I can smell his fear.
His arms come up. He tries in vain to block the blows. Clenching my teeth, I lift my arm over my head, then bring my elbow down on his cheekbone full-force. The feel of it shattering beneath me brings on a wave of euphoria.
His body trembles and jerks as if being electrocuted.
Strong arms come around me from behind. I vaguely hear, “Fuck, Twitch! You’re killing him! Stop!”
Struggling, I’m lifted clean off the moaning, bloody mess in the center of the ballroom floor. More clearly this time, I hear, “You got him, bro. You got him. He gets it. You’re good now. It’s time to stop.” That comes from Happy.
Panting heavily, I shrug him off me.
Turning, my eyes scan the room, coming into contact with the terrified faces of my guests.
Happy hands me something. A handkerchief.
Taking it and wiping at the blood on my cheek and forehead, I say through heavy breaths, “Get out. Party’s over.”
But no one moves.
Stilling, I watch them a moment before stepping forward and booming, “Get the fuck out of my goddamn house! Anyone still here in three fucking minutes, I’ll escort out myself. In a fucking body bag!”
They scramble, finally getting that I could actually do it, and not taking their chances in finding out.
Smart.
Stalking over to a still-dancing Lexi in the corner of the room to no beat, I grip her upper arm and all but drag her behind me. Halfway up the stairs, she stumbles and bursts into laughter, as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done in her life.
And it makes my blood boil.
I hate myself for craving the state of high she’s in. Like a petulant child, I’m taking out my jealousy on her. Pulling her up much too tightly, she yelps in surprise; I pull her along all too quickly. Once in my room, I open the door to the bathroom and throw her in. She stumbles and ends up on her knees on the bath mat. She giggles, and rage coils in my gut. Reaching past her to the shower, I turn the cold water on and spit, “Wash his smell off you. Now.”
Then I shut the door and pace, balling my fists tight, jaw ticking.
Once I think I’m no longer homicidal, I breathe deeply and sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for Lexi to finish her shower.
Five minutes pass. I hear her singing, so I give her some more time.
Another five minutes pass and my brow furrows. The singing has stopped.
Something pushes me to check on her, and when I open the bathroom door, my heart skips a beat.
Still in her clothes on the floor of the shower, she shivers uncontrollably.
Fuckin’ hell!
Reaching in for her, the spray hits me and it’s freezing. She just spent ten minutes in an ice bath.
Turning off the water, I yell, “The fuck is wrong with you?” As if it’s her fault and not mine for leaving a woman who has never used cocaine before to shower alone.
I’m pissed at myself. But I’ll never admit it.
Her lips are blue, her skin ashen, and her wide blue eyes watch me fearfully.
Placing a hand on my hip, I dip my head and pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to calm the fuck down. Then, gently as I can, I reach out for her and say, “C’mon, baby. I gotta get you warm or you’re gonna get sick.”
That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite. But I gotta get her out and she looks scared. She’s having a blow freak-out.
She blinks a moment before reaching out a shaking hand to take mine. I pull her to stand, but she shakes so much she almost looks like she’s having a fit. Reaching for the hem of her dark dress – which is now pasted to her body – I lift it over her head and make quick work of her panties. Taking a big fluffy towel, I wrap her up and walk her out the bathroom and over to my bed.
I sit her on the edge, while I turn on the electric blanket and strip down to nothing.
I’m almost ashamed of myself for being hard, but with Lexi, I can’t help it. It just happens.
Removing the towel from her shivering body, I lie down then pull her down next to me. I wrap my arms around her. My entire body breaks out in goosebumps when her body meets mine.
Dammit. Fuck!
She’s freezing. So damn cold that the front of my body gets a pins-and-needles sensation through it. My arms tighten around her, knowing this is my fault; I accept the pain of her near-frozen body on mine. Punishment to myself, if you will. The electric blanket works quickly, and I rub her arms and back for a few minutes before her body stops shivering. Her teeth are still chattering when she asks, “Why didn’t you come for me? I was calling you.”
My chest feels like a bullet just went through it.
Feeling guilty as fuck, I respond quietly, “I didn’t hear you, baby.”
She buries her cold nose into my neck and whispers, “I called and called, but you didn’t come.”
If I had a heart, it would break.
Then I do something that even shocks me. Rubbing her back, I issue the first apology of my life. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve been watching you.”
She doesn’t respond, but her teeth chatter and she nods into my neck.
The childlike move pierces me like a knife to the side. I’m suddenly protective of Lexi.
What a load of shit.
Protective of the woman I had hurt myself.
I’m a fuckwit. Seriously.
Damaged doesn’t even begin to cover what I am. I don’t think a word has been invented for the level of fucked up I am.
The feel of Lexi’s body slumping so suddenly into mine makes me jump. Gripping her arms tightly, I search her lifeless face and shake her hard. �
�Lexi! Fuck!”
When her eyes pop open and her eyes widen in fright, my heart begins to beat again. She asks, “What?”
I thought you were unconscious and it scared the shit out of me.
Shaking my head, I swallow hard. “Nothing, babe. Go back to sleep. I won’t wake you again. Promise.”
She buries her still-cold face into my neck and sighs.
My jaw tics.
Should’ve never brought her here.
Subconsciously, my arms tighten around her, defying my mind’s statement.
Waking in pitch black with a pounding head, a sore throat, and a boiling belly, I jump upright and bolt off of the bed towards the bathroom. Struggling with the door handle, my body begins to heave when a hand reaches past me to open the door. Once inside, I throw my shaking body over to the toilet bowl and let out the contents of my stomach.
Which is a serious shame.
I loved every morsel I ate at dinner last night.
Groaning into the acrylic toilet seat, something heavy covers my body, but I’m so hot right now, I shrug it off. A sleepy, “Keep it on, Angel,” comes from my left.
Eyes closed, I frown, “Too hot.”
A cool hand on my forehead makes me sigh happily. That is, until I hear, “Shit, Lexi. You’re burning up.”
And that’s the last thing I remember before I doze off, head firmly fixed on the toilet seat.
I know the exact moment Lexi passes out because the arms hugging the toilet bowl fall limp to the sides, her face smooshed into the toilet seat. The sweet sound of her steady breathing is the only thing that calms me at the moment.
Leaving her where she rests, I walk over to the nightstand, fetch my cell, and call Happy. At 3:57am.
He answers half asleep, “You better have a good reason, motherfucker.”
Ignoring his frustration, I quickly tell him, “I need the number for the doctor.”
Silence. Then accusingly, “What did you do?”
I bark back, “I’m gonna ignore your tone and that fuckin’ statement and ask you one more time.”
He immediately backtracks, “Don’t be like that, bro. I’m sorry, alright? What did you expect I’d think, calling me this time of night, sounding like you’re in trouble?”
I don’t blame him. Really, I don’t. I know he’s got reasons to think the worst of me. The guy’s been at the receiving end of my fists for little to no reason at all. And he’s one of my best friends.