ECSTASY

by KV Rose

  I’m starting to feel jittery and my jaw is fucking aching.

  I really fucked this all up. I should not have come tonight.

  But Alex shifts his hold on me, yanking both of my arms behind my back with one hand, threading his arm through them and pinning me to him. With his other hand, he trails his finger over my chest, toward the material of my bikini.

  I stiffen, closing my eyes as everyone seems to be pressing in on me. I try to take deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth. Some people are still yelling and cheering, and some people probably aren’t paying attention, probably as high as I am, but if he does this…

  If he does this, someone is going to record it and I will never fucking live this down.

  I don’t really mind people seeing my tits, but if my mom finds out this happened, she’ll yank me out of school and send me back to rehab and that is not how I want to spend the rest of the year.

  “If you wanna act like a fucking whore, Za, I’ll treat you like one,” Alex whispers in my ear, his words against my skin.

  I try to yank out of his grip but it’s a joke. He’s a freak of nature, over six feet tall and all lean muscle and asshole.

  He straightens, yelling loud enough to be heard over the music the same bullshit he called out earlier, “Who wants to see this beautiful bitch naked?” like he’s a fucking sports broadcaster and flashing tits was his specialty back in the day.

  Everyone is yelling and screaming, and I open my eyes again, staring over their heads at the high ceiling as if I might just disappear. As if this isn’t really happening. As if I could float up to the ceiling and fly out of here on the wave of music pounding through the speakers.

  “Stop,” I whisper the word, hoping someone might see me say it, but mainly, I’m just saying it for my own satisfaction. That I did say it. I can’t get out of his grip and none of these people are going to help me because this is Alex’s house, and no one tells Alex no, but still.

  At least I said it.

  Here we fucking go.

  But then someone comes to stand directly in front of me. And just as Alex’s fingers grab the thin material of my bikini, he says, “Alex.”

  Eli. He’s looking past me, at his best friend.

  I can smell him, he’s so close to me. Coconut and citrus, he smells fucking amazing. The opposite of Alex’s dark and woodsy scent. And he’s probably the only guy in here not in swimming trunks. He’s wearing black pants and a white, fitted tee instead. This close to me, his body nearly brushing mine, I can see his long, dark lashes. The lighter flecks of green in his eyes.

  I swallow, feeling nervous.

  Feeling like I wish I was with him right now and not Alex.

  Eli is quiet.

  When I’m not high as fuck, I like to be in the quiet too.

  And Eli never causes a fucking scene like this.

  “Oh, you wanna help me undress her, E?” Alex asks in a mocking voice, laughing loudly. I can feel his body shaking with that laughter.

  He’s fucking drunk off his ass.

  I hate when he gets drunk. It’s like all the worst parts of his personality come out in full force. I guess I could say the same about myself but fuck.

  “Fuck. Off,” I growl, and try to pull away again, moving toward Eli, but Alex only holds me tighter.

  The crowd is full of dancing, screaming idiots and someone jostles Eli. Caught off guard, he’s momentarily bumped out of my view and another guy is in front of me. Someone I’ve never seen before. Blond hair, baby face, a cup in his hand, the contents of it nearly sloshing over the sides.

  He’s got a broad, toothy grin on his face, his eyes on my boobs.

  “Show him your tits, Zara,” Alex says against my ear. And then he runs his hand and forearm down my chest, yanking down my bikini.

  The screaming and cheering reach atrociously high levels and the guy in front of me looks like he might come in his pants right here and now, his mouth forming a comical “O” as he stares at my bare breasts.

  Comical, except this isn’t fucking funny.

  My heart is racing so fast it’s making my chest hurt, and my cheeks are flushed as Alex keeps holding down my fucking top, spinning me around so everyone can get a good look. And a keepsake video.

  I want to go home.

  I want to go home and get to my bathroom sink and grab a benzo and fucking knock myself out and go to sleep. I want to get out of here.

  But I don’t bother trying to fight Alex. What’s the fucking point? This will be over soon. He’s just getting back at me. It’s just, what we do.

  “Alex!” I hear Eli’s voice again and interestingly, he sounds angry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Eli sound…anything.

  Alex is laughing, but he spins us back around and Eli is in my face, shielding my tits from view. I guess I should be grateful, but as he steps closer, his chest grazes my pebbled nipples and my breath catches in my throat.

  I don’t think he even notices.

  If he does, he definitely doesn’t care.

  He’s staring up at Alex. “Cut it out,” he yells at him over the music and the throng of people being obnoxious as hell. I see the veins in Eli’s neck straining against his skin. I see his collarbone, too, and I can smell him all over again.

  I want him to step closer.

  I want to be between him and Alex.

  I want more than my breasts grazing against him.

  Fuck.

  This is not good. The molly is fucking me all up and I shouldn’t be thinking about boning my ex and his best friend.

  I close my eyes again as Alex keeps laughing. This’ll be over soon.

  I just repeat it over and over in my head. This will be over soon. This will be over soon.

  I’ve survived far worse than this shit. You know, like an overdose. Besides, tits are nothing to be ashamed of. Fuck him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of squirming again.

  He dips his head down. “You hear that, princess? Eli wants me to let you go. If I do, how are you going to pay us back for that?”

  His words light a fire under my skin and my eyes fly open.

  Eli is staring right at me.

  He’s still so damn close, I can feel his body heat against my chest. It’s like he’s caging me in, so no one else can see me. Just him. Just him and just Alex, at my back.

  I try to squirm again out of Alex’s grip, so I can turn around and face him, but he only holds me tighter. What he doesn’t know is that despite what he’s doing, I would pay them both back. I’m so turned on the moment, I’d probably let them both take me at the same time. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before, and this fucking molly is making me want things I can’t have. Things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Things I—

  “Hey!” Alex’s voice suddenly turns cold. He pulls up my top, let’s go of my arms and yanks me into his chest, his arm around mine, covering my breasts. “I didn’t say you could touch her, you dumb fuck. Get out of here.”

  Eli’s eyes flick from mine to the guy Alex is talking to, right beside him. It’s the blond guy with the baby face. I realize his hand is outstretched, reaching toward me. But at Alex’s words, his eyes go wide, fear replacing the lust on his face.

  It isn’t Alex that goes for him, though.

  It’s Eli.

  He grabs the guy by the throat, digging his fingers so hard into his skin the tips of them disappear into the guy’s flesh.

  The guy is sputtering, his mouth opening and closing but nothing comes out.

  My thighs clench together, watching Eli look at this guy with no expression on his face, but he doesn’t really need to say much.

  And when he does, it’s just one word. “Leave.”

  He lets the guy go, and he starts rubbing at his throat, coughing and choking, red marks against his skin.

  But he leaves.

  He turns and fucking runs as fast as he can through the mass of people in the living room, some pointing and laughing as he goes.


  “Thanks, man,” Alex says behind me, and slowly, Eli turns back around, his expression neutral. His eyes lock on mine and I wish he’d step closer. I wish he’d put his hands on me like that.

  I wish he’d…

  “Yeah.” That’s all he says before he turns around and threads his way through the crowd, which seems to part for him like he’s fucking Moses or some shit.

  I want to go after him.

  I want him back here with me and Alex.

  Alex leans down close to me. “Let’s get a drink, yeah?” he whispers in my ear, and before I can answer, he shifts his arm around my shoulder and leads me through the living room. He’s so damn big, all I have to do is stick close to him and there’s no fighting or squeezing through people. They just move.

  Just like they did with Eli.

  So many thoughts are whirring in my brain—About my mom seeing a video of my tits. How she’ll put me back in rehab so fast I’ll be there by sunrise. What the fuck Alex just did. How this might mean we’re really over.

  And about Eli Addison, grabbing that dude by the throat.

  But when Alex leads me into the kitchen and Eli is nowhere to be found, I try to push him from my mind and spin around to face Alex, shrugging his arm off my shoulder.

  He grabs my wrist, yanking me closer to him. He knows if he lets go of me right now, I’m going to bolt.

  “What the fuck was that?” I hiss.

  Some dude comes up beside us and I glance over at him, recognizing Dwight Morris. He’s the running back at CU, and he has two drinks in his hand. He looks from me to Alex then back to me, offering me the drink.

  I stare at him like he’s stupid. Did he not just see what the fuck happened there?

  “Looks like you could use this,” he tells me, and he’s not smiling, which makes me feel marginally better. His golden eyes go to Alex, but he still holds the cup out to me. “That wasn’t cool, man.”

  That was the wrong thing to say.

  I can see Alex’s jaw clench, his expression stormy as he turns to his friend. “Do you not fucking remember what this bitch did last week?” he asks, like I’m not even standing here.

  I take the drink from Dwight’s outstretched hand. Without hesitating, I throw it in Alex’s fucking face.

  Alex drops my hand, taking an instinctive step back, liquor and soda all over him, running down the front of his chest.

  Silence—save for the music in the living room—seems to descend in the kitchen from the few people in here.

  Beyond the sliding glass doors, I hear people splashing in the pool, and in the living room, the party is still raging on.

  But right here, in this kitchen, the only thing raging is Alex.

  His mouth is open as he blinks rapidly, wipes his hand over his face and through his light brown hair. He shakes his hands out, sending drops of liquid splattering on me and Dwight, who takes a step back, his eyes flitting from me to Alex and back again.

  I watch him swallow and take another step back.

  “I’m just gonna—” And then he walks away, giving me a lingering look.

  I turn to face Alex, cross my arms over my chest. “That’s the fucking least of what you deserve, you dick.”

  He reaches behind him, to the sink, and grabs a hand towel, wipes his face and his chest, then throws the towel past me, on the marble island of the kitchen.

  Finally, his dark brown eyes connect with mine. “You fucking bitch.” Then he moves so fast, I don’t have time to react as he picks me up, slams me against the island, bottles and cups rattling and rolling in every direction. His hand cups my head, cushioning the blow before it slams against the marble. Then he yanks his hand out from under me, plants it on my chest, grabs a bottle of tequila, twists off the lid with his teeth and spits it out. I thrash against his hand, kicking, and scratching at his forearm, but he brings the bottle to my mouth.

  “Open your fucking mouth or I’ll break your goddamn teeth,” he growls at me.

  I don’t know if anyone else is in here, but I hear nothing. No one protesting, coming to my aid.

  For one stupid second, I wonder where Eli is.

  “Fuck you,” I spit at Alex as he leans over me, digging the bottle in deeper against my mouth. But when I say that, he forces it between my teeth and starts to pour it down my throat.

  It burns and I cough, turning my head before I choke to death on tequila at this stupid house party that I should’ve never gone to.

  But Alex doesn’t fucking let up.

  He turns the bottle as I turn my head, and it’s still lodged between my teeth. He moves his hand from my chest to my face, forcing me still.

  “Taste as good at Jamal’s cum, huh, princess?” he snarls at me, his eyes two dark pits. I jerk my head from his grip and finally I can breathe. But tequila is burning its way down my throat, into my empty stomach—I don’t remember the last time I ate—and I know, with that, and the Addie, and the molly, I’m about to be very fucked up.

  Usually, with Alex, I wouldn’t care. He’d take care of me. He might be a dick and he might make fun of me, but he’d take care of me all the same.

  Not tonight though.

  Tonight, he’s gone way past his usual one-beer limit and tonight he’s fucking on one.

  I think about calling Kylie. I think about calling my mom. My dealer, Jax. Or fuck, at this point, I’d even call Jamal. Anyone to come pick me up and take me away from this shit, but I don’t even know where my phone is. I don’t know where my phone is, and my head is already spinning and…

  Goddamn, I want a Xanax.

  It’s an irrational thought, but with my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears and with that look of rage still on Alex’s face as he slams the tequila bottle down on the table so hard, all of the bottles rattle against each other, it’s the only hope I’ve got.

  At least then I could fucking roofie myself and not have to live through whatever fresh hell my ex has in store for me.

  But I don’t have a Xannie on me, and my ex is already moving on to the next thing so there’s no way I can fucking find one right now.

  He yanks my arm, sliding me down the counter, and tosses me over his shoulder.

  My head is spinning, the room a swirling vortex of colors and sounds around me as he ducks down so I don’t hit my head on the doorway when he goes outside, the smell of chlorine and the warm, September air assaulting my senses.

  And that’s what it feels like.

  An assault.

  Because whatever Alex plans to do with me out here cannot be good.

  I’m hanging over his shoulder like a ragdoll, and he’s got one hand on my back, the other on my ass. His grip isn’t overly forceful but I’m working on trying not to puke, trying not to black out so I don’t drown in this pool, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere.

  And when he sets me down on my feet, the rough concrete cold beneath me, I think I’m going to fall over.

  But he grips my arms, keeping me upright.

  Distantly, I’m aware there are people out here talking and laughing and I hear a few splashes from the pool and music that I can’t quite make out.

  All I can focus on is Alex’s eyes on mine.

  He’s smiling at me, which can’t be good. But his smile is so damn cute, a single dimple flashing in his tan face, his white, straight teeth fucking perfect. I see other things, too. The small dent in his bottom lip, right down the center. The flecks of amber in his dark eyes, and his long lashes.

  Why do boys always have such nice lashes?

  I want to ask him. I reach a hand out to touch them, but my hand goes to his face instead and his skin is so smooth, so warm beneath my hand.

  “Alex,” I say his name, and it’s heavy in my mouth, like my tongue is swollen or something. “Alex,” I try again, and I can hear it, the sound, but I can’t quite tell if I’m saying it right.

  God, I’m fucked up.

  He’s still holding my upper arms and I see, past him, a few people
looking our way. We’re by the shallow end, I know that much. But even with the tiki torches and the underwater pool lights giving off enough light to see by in the darkness, I can’t tell much beyond that. I don’t know how close we are to the pool. I don’t know how close I am to the door to the house.

  I don’t know how close I am to passing out.

  I sway a little in his arms.

  “You wanna swim?” he asks me. His words are kind of quiet, but he’s got that smirk on his face that means he’s up to no good.

  I shake my head. “No,” I mumble, still touching his face. “That’s not a…” I trail off, unable to say what it is I really want to say. That’s not a good idea.

  It’s not even that I don’t want to swim with him.

  It’s not even because of what he just did.

  It’s not even the way I taste blood in my mouth, and I think it must be because he forced that bottle down my throat.

  It’s that if I get in that pool, I will definitely drown.

  But none of that comes out. The only words I can force out of my mouth are, “I’m drunk.”

  Alex smiles, presses his forehead to mine. “Good.”

  And I’m too drunk to feel angry at his words, or to remind him of what he just did. Instead, I swat my hand against his bare chest, and he catches it, threading his fingers through mine. He jerks his head toward the pool.

  “Come on, let’s swim.”

  I shake my head, my eyes fluttering closed. My body feels heavy. I’m messed up. I tell him that, my words slurred, but he must get what I’m saying because he speaks against my mouth.

  “I won’t let you get hurt, Zara.”

  My limbs feel loose and warm with his words. His touch. Alex is safe. Alex is safe. The past six months, we’ve fought and fucked and screamed and yelled but he’s safe. He’s taken care of my drunk ass more times than I’d really like to admit. He hasn’t told my mom that I’m not in recovery.

  He hasn’t ever let me get hurt. He picked me up on the football field after his first game, the one he was suspended at, and twirled me around and kissed me in front of everyone.

  He’s safe.

  He’s safe.

  So, I nod my head, knowing as I do that things are going to go downhill fast. But you’re only a senior in college once, right? And he won’t really hurt me. He won’t really drown me.