When he finally steps back from me, I let out a breath, trying to clear my nostrils of his addictive scent. Like I could purge my body of his memory somehow. He shares a look with the two men behind me, and they step around me to join ranks with him, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder.
Fuck. They’re friends of his. Not casual acquaintances like I first assumed, but good friends. The kind of friends who will hate me just because he does. They probably don’t even need to know why.
“So…” Gray raises his voice again, resuming the public show. “Our new scholarship classmate.” He glances at the crowd. “You want a fun fact about our little freshman inductee? Sparrow and I know each other.” He smirks, looking me in the eyes. “Biblically. Intimately. Though I gotta say, I wouldn’t waste your time on her if you think she’s gonna be a decent charity case lay. She’s not very… entertaining.”
Anger flares through me like a bolt of lightning. I remember that night at The Silent Hour, and I’m positive he does too. And “entertaining” isn’t even on the list of things that could be used to describe what happened between us.
It was meant to be a quick and dirty fuck to take my mind off my grief, to banish the pain for a few minutes. It was meant to be a brief, meaningless entertainment.
But that’s not what it was.
We fucked each other within an inch of our souls leaving our bodies. It wasn’t just sex. It was a goddamn collision, something I’d never experienced in my life before that night.
And now he’s laughing about it, telling the crowd about it, making sure the entire campus will know about it come Monday morning.
Just to prove some fucking point.
Well, fuck him. And fuck all these single-celled rich shits who think any of this is funny, let alone any of their goddamn business.
“Sorry.” I raise my voice to match his, letting an easy, taunting smile slide across my face. “It was probably so lousy because I spent most of the time trying to figure out if you were actually inside me or if you were just dry humping me like a two-inch virgin.”
A ripple goes through the gathered students, and I get the sense that no one actually expected me to stand up to Gray. Low noises reach my ears—a chuckle here, a snicker there, a few whispered voices. Over the sound of the crowd’s reaction comes a braying laugh. It’s grating, setting my teeth on edge like nails on a chalkboard and making goosebumps scatter across my skin. It nearly distracts me from the satisfying sight of Gray’s shocked expression.
I guess he didn’t expect me to hit back either. Did he seriously think I’d just stand there and take whatever bullshit he threw at me without lashing out in return?
Does he think I’m that fucking weak?
Or does he just have that much power?
I want to say something else. I want to turn the look of surprise on his face into one of regret. I want to make him sorry he ever opened his fucking mouth and talked shit about me.
But the prickling tingle racing over my skin is only getting worse. My heart is beating harder and fuzzy blackness is creeping in at the edges of my vision. The attack I staved off before Elias bumped into me is returning full-force, and this time, I don’t know if I can hold it off.
I won’t fall in front of these men or their stupid fucking groupies.
I won’t let them see me vulnerable.
A cold sweat is breaking out over my skin, and it takes effort to move my limbs normally, but I force myself to shoot Gray one more unimpressed look before I turn and walk away, forging a path through the bodies still clustered in a loose circle around us.
My head stays high and my spine straight until I round the corner of a building. When I’m sure none of them can see me anymore, I pick up my pace, staggering like a drunk as I try to put as much distance between me and them as I can before the attack overtakes me fully.
I make it into a small alleyway between two class buildings just seconds before a fresh wave of dizziness washes over me, nearly bringing me to my knees.
7
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
This attack is intense. It comes over me out of nowhere, rising up like an ocean to drag me under. My vision goes almost completely black, all my senses becoming muffled and dulled as if I’m drowning in the very air around me.
Every second that passes feels like an eternity, and I can’t even tell if I’m still breathing or just opening and closing my mouth like a fish. The rough stone of the building’s facade scrapes against my fingertips as I press my hands against it, and that singular sensation grounds me against the force of the blackness pulling at me.
Slowly, the attack recedes.
As it does, I realize that I am in fact breathing, and I put conscious effort into slowing and evening out my inhales and exhales. The world turns to fuzzy, dark shapes before my eyes, and then finally into recognizable images.
Fuck.
A shiver wracks me, part leftover adrenaline and part fear. I haven’t had an episode this intense since I was twelve or thirteen, a lost kid trying to navigate the system with little guidance and no solid memories. And just like when I was a kid, the feeling of having no control over myself in an unfamiliar place is starkly terrifying.
Fuck finding the administration office. Fuck the trio of assholes I just left behind. For now, none of that shit matters. In this moment, all I can do is lean against the wall with my forehead pressed against the rough surface. It’s cool against my heated skin, and even with the roughness, I welcome the temperature change to help ground and chill me out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Good. Again.
I don’t force it or try to fight off the lingering effects of the attack. I learned a long time ago that pushing back like that only risks triggering another one. I need to let my body recover from this on its own.
It’s hard to keep the panic at bay though. It feels like everything inside me is trying to push itself out, like I’m not even myself—like this body doesn’t even belong to me.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, forehead pressed against the stone.
Finally, when my head feels less like it’s trying to split itself in two, I turn and slide down the wall to sit on my ass, leaning my back against the building.
I search inside myself for the emptiness, the black hole that I’ve built in my chest. When I find it, I latch on to it, letting the numbness spread through my body. I can feel my face fall slack, the pinched, taut muscles smoothing out.
None of this fucking matters.
Not exactly the most uplifting mantra, but hey, it gets the job done. The last bit of buzzing tension slides from my body, and I let out a deep breath.
What I could use now is a fucking joint. I don’t smoke often, but enough that I always keep a little baggie on hand in case the need arises. Rummaging through my messenger bag, which I dropped when I stumbled into this alley, I dig out my lighter and roll a quick joint.
But when I put the little hand-rolled cigarette between my lips and bring the lighter up, I realize it’s out of fluid.
Motherfucker. Is this some sort of cosmic joke day, where I’m just the butt of all of them?
Flick, flick.
I try to get the flame to work, each little spark yielding no results worth writing home about. Fucking figures.
“Need help?”