Breaking the Wrong

by Calia Read

  He surprises me when he cocks his head toward me and asks, “You want to dance?”

  “I don’t dance,” I admit. Although, right now, I wish I did.

  Macsen points to the vodka across from us. “Take a shot and loosen up.”

  “I’m not getting drunk,” I warn him.

  “You don’t have to get drunk, Emilia.”

  Biting my lip, I look over at the vodka and give Macsen a brief nod. I have this urge to forget. Right now, I want freedom from my Burn List, my pain, my hurt. I shove Aniston’s words from earlier this evening aside and smile when Chris’s hand slams onto Macsen’s shoulder loudly.

  Chris points to the kitchen and shouts out, “We need shot glasses!”

  I stare at Macsen questioningly as he gathers a few shot glasses and vodka. People are starting to gather around us slowly. I’m watching them like they’re all about to attack me at any moment. When Chris whistles loudly, everyone shuts up. He laps up the attention and yanks me to his side. “Listen up, you fuckers!” he yells.

  The song changes and the speakers blare out the intro to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” Aside from the music and the occasional giggle, everyone is quiet. Chris smirks, links his hand with mine and raises them in the air. I jerk back and he leans down. “You’re good, Emilia,” he says. “One shot and you’re done.” I narrow my eyes and he gives me a friendly smile. “It’s your first party, right?”

  “My first college party,” I admit.

  A guy shouts, “Bresloff, what the fuck? Are we going to stand here all night?”

  Both Macsen and Chris glare at the guy. Chris cups a hand around his mouth. “Feel free to get the hell out of my apartment, asshole!”

  Everyone is silent and Chris quietly tells me. “It’s your first college party. I’m going to make it the best fucking party you’ve ever been to.”

  My hand is raised once again and Chris smiles widely. “This is my friend, Emilia,” he yells. “I call her Rapunzel. Everyone say hi!”

  I get catcalls and whistles instead. Macsen stands up taller and frowns at the crowd as Chris continues. “It’s Rapunzel’s first college party!” More cheers ring out. “More importantly, it’s her first Bresloff party and we need to make sure she celebrates it right!”

  People scream and shout out. My skin is bright red, I can feel it. I tug and Chris lowers our arms and wraps a large arm around my shoulder. I shoot a glance at Macsen. He’s leaning back against the wall watching me with a smile. I’m starting to realize that maybe this wasn’t the best thing to do, agreeing to a simple shot.

  “Now,” Chris says and yanks the shot glass from the counter. “Since I’m such an excellent host,” he winks over at a brunette dressed up as a hippy, “I thought Emilia should do the customary ten shots!”

  My back stiffens, but Chris quickly speaks. “But then I realized, Rapunzel is too little for that.”

  Chris grins over at Macsen. “So Mac and I are going to split those shots! But, Rapunzel goes first.” He hands me the shot glass and I reluctantly take it. “Everyone! Raise your glasses!”

  The smell of vodka wafts up to my nose. It’s putrid. I make a face and realize everyone is waiting for me as they shout, “Drink, drink, drink!”

  Quickly, I hold the glass to my lips and kick my head back, taking it all in. When I swallow, my face scrunches tightly together. Everyone cheers and gathers closer to the kitchen island.

  I get shuffled around before Macsen pulls me out of Chris’s grasp and close to his side. “You did good.” He holds a Coke and I eagerly take it, willing to drink anything to drown out the taste in my mouth.

  I stand near him as they down their shots. Macsen takes them easily. Sometimes he makes a face and glances down at me. A small smirk comes to my lips when he shakes his head.

  They finish off the remainder of my shots and when they’re done, everyone cheers and whistles. Macsen has a sweet grin on his face. He hoists himself away from the counter and links his hand with mine. “Let’s dance!”

  I forget that I can’t dance. I forget that I hate parties. Macsen’s hand holds mine protectively. While he drank his shots, I finished off my beer and now my body feels relaxed. My mind is at ease and I feel free. Even if this only lasts for a few seconds, I take advantage of this feeling and follow Macsen.

  Chapter Fourteen

  EMILIA

  When we get onto the floor, we’re jostled by people. Neon Trees’ “Lessons of Love” comes on. I raise my brows at the song choice. “We just went from eighties rock to this?”

  Macsen kicks his head back in Chris’s direction. “I think his fuck buddy picked it out.”

  I look over at Chris and his face is buried in some brunette’s cleavage as they grind against each other. My eyes pause over the people around me. They sway and move their bodies to the music. I’m at a loss for where to begin.

  Macsen’s calloused hands land on my hips and I jump. “Just follow me,” he shouts. He moves around actively. Macsen is not dancing like the people around us and I know he’s trying to get me to loosen up. And it works, because I start to jump up and down all crazily like him. A few people look at us like we’re insane, but most of them are too drunk to even notice us.

  “See!” he shouts. “You’re a great dancer.” He holds his arm up and motions me to raise my own hand. When I do, he grabs it and turns me around. I laugh loudly as I do a full circle. For the entire song, we dance with probably the worst moves of everyone.

  But it’s fun. It gives me an adrenaline rush.

  I’m breathing heavily when the song changes. Macsen smiles widely and his hand drops my own. His smile wavers for a long second before he moves closer and grabs my hips.

  I should be running for the front door, but my body has a different idea. I let him touch me and move to the beat pounding from the speakers. I feel like I’m pulled under a spell. My body isn’t my own.

  Macsen stares at me approvingly and bends down to speak in my ear. “If I move, move into me.” His smile is devilish and I shouldn’t buy into it, but I do. My body sinks closer to his, and I follow his movements.

  The girls around us gyrate and move erotically. My movements are nowhere close to theirs, but I follow their lead. With Macsen’s hands on my hips, I guide my hands thoughtfully up his arms. It’s so easy to touch him and to allow his hands to touch me. It feels so good that I’m close to trembling.

  But the more we move, the more Macsen’s face loses its lingering smile. His hands dig deeper into my skin and I’m pressed against his body. The minute our bodies touch, I feel the bulge in his pants touch my stomach, causing me to jump. My eyes widen, and my hands squeeze his biceps.

  With the people around us, the room becomes stuffy and hot. Sweat gathers on my neck and disappears underneath my shirt. A bead of sweat trails down Macsen’s scruffy jaw and slowly travels down his neck. I don’t even think about what I’m doing. My finger reaches out and I wipe the perspiration off his neck.

  Macsen’s eyes widen slightly as I keep my hand against his skin. Beneath my fingers, I can feel Macsen’s pulse pounding wildly. My heart is thundering and it encourages me to lean forward and act out in the present—to take what is right in front of me. I watch Macsen eye’s carefully and when they dilate, I lean closer. I’m seconds away from wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer, but then the song ends. When it does, Macsen jumps away like he’s been burned.

  I stare at him while he looks around at everyone but me. All it shows me is that whatever I’m feeling, he’s feeling the same way, too.

  “Are you okay?” I ask with concern.

  “Yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair and places both hands on his hips before he looks at me. “You want something to drink?”

  I nod. “Some water.”

  “I’ll be back,” he mutters.

  Whatever was about to happen between us, I wanted to happen. I’m feeling mild disappointment, when I should be feeling relieved. I watch him blend in with all t
he bodies around us. It’s awkward standing in the middle of all the dancing. I drift away from the sweaty people.

  My skin feels like it’s on fire. I quickly slide off my cardigan and slip into the hall to take a breather from the crowded room.

  I end up drifting further down the hallway. There are four doors, all shut, except the bathroom. I keep walking, knowing that I should probably go back to the living room. But at least I can gather my thoughts here. The further I get from the party and Macsen, the more confident I become that I can turn this night around and get more information out of him.

  I stall for time and open up one of the bedroom doors. I’m snooping like a weirdo and I don’t even care. I just want to get a brief glimpse at Macsen’s life outside of school. The door I open clearly shows I picked the right room.

  A single lamp is on. I open the door wider and step deeper into the room. Macsen’s room shows his personality. A queen bed is placed in front of a window, and across from it is a closet. An organized desk sits close to the closet. I drape my cardigan over his computer chair and glance over the things he owns. I see a laptop, pencils, and an iPod dock. Where most people would have a row of pictures up of family and friends, Macsen has a row of books by an assortment of authors.

  Beside the desk is a large oak dresser. On top of it is a television angled toward his bed. Nothing much is hanging on the wall, aside from a corkboard and a few nerdy posters. I smile at them and walk slowly, taking in everything. My smile grows as I take in the large bookshelf placed against the opposite wall. There are four shelves against each other, piled with books.

  My eyes trail over every title. Some, I recognize; most of them, I don’t. When I look through the second shelf, I see The Great Gatsby. I tug it out of the tight row of books. Glancing down at his copy makes me want to read the book again.

  “Emilia?” I hear Macsen’s voice and almost drop the book. He holds two water bottles in his hand as he steps into his room.

  “Sorry,” I stammer. He glances at the book I’m holding. “It was too hot in the living room, so I walked down the hall and now—” I point to the book, “I’m snooping.”

  He gives me a small smile. “No, you’re fine.” His eyes flick around his room as he walks deeper and shuts the door. There’s something about hearing the door click shut. It makes my pulse race.

  “I didn’t know you owned The Great Gatsby,” I comment.

  “Yep.” He speaks just as he walks up behind me. My heart is close to bursting open. I may be nervous and scared, but I lean back against his chest and feel his muscles react.

  Macsen reaches out and his arm brushes against the swell of my breast. I stay perfectly still and show no reaction, but Macsen pauses. I feel his stare as he looks down at me. Slowly, he reaches for his copy of The Scarlett Letter. “I read it a long time ago. I figured I might as well get a copy.”

  I wait until he moves his arm before I speak. “Hester Prynne’s on your shelf ... I approve.”

  “Why do you like her so much?” he asks quietly.

  I shrug, ducking underneath his arm and taking his book from him. Mindful of the bed a few steps away, I drop to the floor, crisscross my legs and skim through the pages. “Didn’t you feel that she was this strong, fearless female?”

  Macsen looks at the books thoughtfully and sits on the floor across from me. “I guess...”

  I gape at him. “You guess? From the first time they described her, she was just this character I loved.”

  “She was shamed in her town, Emilia,” he points out.

  “I know that. But remember when she looked around at all the people shaming her? I picture her giving them this confident smile. Hester accepts that red A and what comes with it.” He stares at me, saying nothing. “I think I’d want to be her because she seemed ... bold.”

  “And you want that for yourself.”

  I look at him sharply. ‘You’re going to find someone that reads you back.’ Macsen stares back at me intensely, like he can read my thoughts. Fear fills my stomach as I realize he may be that someone.

  He’s looking at me so intensely that the air around us automatically shifts. It becomes harder to breathe and I’m aware of every single action of mine. “Yes,” I draw out quietly, “I want that.”

  “If you were bold...” Macsen shifts closer and I clinch the book tightly in my hands. “What would you do?”

  My heart picks up speed as I open my mouth. I hesitate for a second, afraid to say what I feel. But when will this opportunity ever come again? Probably never. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

  Tell him or don’t. Tell him or don’t. I weigh the pros and cons in my head as I stare at him. After a few seconds pass between us, I let out a shaky breath.

  “I’d lean forward...” I whisper.

  His face moves closer and I watch his green eyes become hooded with lust. “And what?”

  I lean an inch closer. “I would kiss you.”

  Macsen’s eyes slam shut and the rejection I feel stings. I start to rise and when he opens his eyes back up. His hands gently hold my own to the floor and then his mouth is on mine. I want to shiver from how lightly his lips move against mine, how smooth they feel. They move coaxingly, with soft nips. My lips stay shut. I’m enjoying every single trick of his to get me to open up my mouth to him.

  My breathing is shallow as I pull away. His hands move away as he settles onto the floor, his legs wide apart. My nose brushes against his as I stare into his eyes. His pulse is pounding at the base of his throat. With my palms flat on the floor, I lean closer. My body is between his spread legs. Even though he’s silent, his chest rises and falls like he has just stopped running. I know he wants me. I shut my brain down, ignore what a mistake this is, and lean forward and kiss the side of his neck. He jumps slightly and I lick his skin.

  I hear him groan and move my lips upward.

  A kiss cannot replace the past. But with every kiss to his skin, my hurt becomes a distant memory. All my pain is gone and all I can feel is the blood roaring throughout my body. My lips tingle as I drag them across his jaw. When I reach his lips, I stop, and hover. I can only go so far before it’s his turn to take control.

  My eyes briefly flick down to his arms. He’s resting his weight on his palms, but I watch his arms shake. He’s losing his calm demeanor. The longer our lips are apart, the more the air snaps around us. My breathing is harsh as I wait patiently. When Macsen still hasn’t moved, I start to back away.

  “Don’t,” he says roughly and reaches out. Easily, his hands span my waist and he drags me onto his lap.

  I grip his forearms tightly as my body sinks closer and my thighs hug his hips. Against the juncture of my thighs, I can feel how hard he is. I shift once and my thighs start to shake. He only pauses for a second, looking at me with such intensity, I’m waiting for my skin to melt. When his lips meet mine, there’s more urgency to our kiss. My nails dig into his flesh as he licks the seam of my lips and nips at my bottom lip.

  I want to pretend, just for a few hours, that I’m someone filled with forgiveness. No scars on my past. No cuts on my emotions. I want to be a whole person, not someone sewn back together. And I feel put together with Macsen’s arms banded tightly around me.

  I open my mouth and his tongue slips in. I gasp loudly in shock at how good this feels. Goosebumps break out across my skin, and I move my tongue against his cautiously. My revenge runs in the opposite direction the longer his mouth is on mine.

  Slowly, I start to relax my body. I practically sigh when Macsen’s hands move from my hips and toward my face. He bites lightly on my bottom lip and soothes the burn with his tongue. Macsen angles my head and explores my mouth. I thrust my tongue against his and fist my hands into his hair. The grip on my face tightens before his hands drift away, traveling down my body.

  His fingers drift over my breast and through my bra, my nipples tighten. I want him to keep touching me there, but his hands move across my stomach and slip underneath my shirt.r />
  How can I be doing this? None of this is part of the plan. My mind torments me and tries to pull me back to reality, but Macsen is my weakness. I can’t stop. My fingers drag up his arm, clinching his biceps. His hands explore my stomach and I breathe heavily, pulling away from his mouth and leaning my head on his shoulder. Those large hands inch closer to the lace of my bra and the two of us are breathing hard. His fingers veer around my chest and I feel him slip a finger underneath the strap of my bra. And even with the barrier of my shirt, he drags it down my shoulder and down my arm.

  There’s a torturous second where he does nothing and I think I stop breathing.

  Against his neck, against my will, I murmur, “More.”

  My brain has shut down and now my lust is talking. It’s a greedy feeling because all I can think about is having his hands all over me.

  His body becomes rigid. Macsen lifts my head up to look him in the face with a hot expression in his eyes. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

  My heart starts to drum erratically and my breath starts to come out in pants. Boldly, I push down the cup of my bra. I search for his hand and through my shirt, I grip his fingers and place his hand on my breast. A guttural sound escapes his mouth and he slams his mouth on mine, moving so fast I can barely breathe. His touch is frantic as he sucks on my tongue and brushes his fingers against my nipple over and over.

  “Oh, God,” slips from my mouth. I don’t know what I really want, but I want more of this. I want more of what he’s giving me.

  My hands slip down to the hem of his shirt. I wrap it around my fingers and tug. Macsen gets the message and with one hand he drags it over his head. It hangs down off one shoulder and I rake my hands down his naked back, feeling his muscles flinch underneath my hands.

  My weight shifts and suddenly I’m on my back. Macsen leans over me and I look over his chest, the skin pulled tight over his abs. With his arms braced next to my arms, he nuzzles my neck. His tongue drifts over my collarbone.