Home > Stay with Me(29)

Stay with Me(29)
Author: Nicole Fiorina

   What stage was I in? Was I the damned caterpillar or was I hiding in a cocoon? Would I ever turn into a butterfly, or would the storm take me away before I learned the truth?

   Ollie was already a butterfly—beautiful and strong.

   While I was damned, he was divine.

   Zeke must have felt the weight of my stare and glanced up to see me. The longer we looked at each other, the more I noticed the deep agony embedded in his sad brown eyes. He’d never spoken a word. The only sound coming from him were shrieks.

   And even in silence, his eyes were screaming.

   I stood, walked over, and took a seat across from him. “What’s your name?”

   His facial expression froze as he stared back at me.

   “I think your name is Zeke, and since you probably won’t tell me otherwise, it’s what I’ll call you.” Better than Screaming Kid. Leaning back in the chair, I dropped my right-handed cast over the table. Zeke’s attention went to my cast. “I punched a wall. It was stupid. And yes, I regret it.”

   Zeke snapped his eyes back to mine, and his brown curly hair bounced off his forehead.

   “Truth is, up until I arrived here, I hadn’t been able to feel anything … but you want to know a secret?” I leaned in and pointed my eyes in Ollie’s direction. “That stupid guy over there kissed me—three times now, and it does something to me I can’t explain. So, I took it out on the wall.” I fell back against the chair as Zeke looked over to Ollie and back at me. “Damn, it feels good to get that off my chest.”

   The corner of his lip turned up slightly. He’d understood every word.

   “You’re a good listener, unlike everyone else here. We should do this more often.”

   A shadow cast over us. My attention followed the source to see Liam hovering over our table. “What are you doing?” he asked, darting his glare between Zeke and me.

   “What does it look like? I’m talking to my new friend Zeke here.” I shot a smile over to Zeke, and he flinched under Liam’s shadow.

   Liam chuckled as he pulled his blond hair back into a bun. “Whatever floats your boat, Jett. Let’s get out of here. I know a place.”

   Liam stuffed his hands into his pocket and arched an impatient brow.

   Past Liam, Ollie watched us from his table in the middle of the mess hall. Reminders of last night sent heat through my bloodstream and across the surface of my skin. Don’t ever kiss another before my eyes again, he had said to me moments before I’d broken my hand. Ollie didn’t know I don’t like to be manipulated, and the way his eyes were controlling me made me only want to defy him.

   “Yeah, okay.” I stood and turned back to Zeke. “Dinner, same place?” Zeke didn’t move. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

   Liam and I walked out of the mess hall and down the corridor side by side. The unknown of what I was walking toward kept my feet in front of me, but the memory of Ollie’s eyes on me consumed my thoughts. Ollie’s gaze wanted to pull me away from Liam, but curiosity kept me moving forward. A constant push and pull.

   “Where are we going?” I asked as we turned a corner.

   Two girls passed by us, both shooting daggers in our direction as they whispered between one another.

   “Hey, Liam,” one practically sang.

   Liam only gave them a small nod before he leaned his head into my hair. “Can’t ruin the surprise. You know, I’ve been thinking about your bold move to kiss me yesterday. Most girls aren’t as aggressive.”

   Liam and Ollie were the same height, but the way Ollie leaned into me affected me differently.

   A short laugh pressed out from my lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. I used you, and I’m not sorry about it.”

   Liam looked down at me with hooded blue eyes. “Me neither.” He had a one-tracked mind and wanted to pick up where we’d left off the day before.

   We turned another corner, and after walking clear across Dolor, we approached a large black door with “dark room” etched into the plaque beside the door on the wall.

   “What is this place?” I asked Liam as he opened the door.

   He placed his hand on the small of my back as he guided me in before him. “It’s a dark room for photography. No one comes in here anymore.”

   Trays lay evenly across a table in the back as old photos hung from the scalloped string from the ceiling. Machines, looking like they belonged in a science lab, took up most of the space, and I turned to Liam to see a dicey smile. His hungry eyes glowed in the dark red lighting of the small and stifling room.

   “I enjoyed our kiss yesterday.” Liam took a step forward. He gripped my waist as he leaned down.

   “No.” I held up a hand to his face. “If we’re doing what I think we’re doing, then no kissing.”

   Liam nodded excitedly as his eyes went wild. “Deal.”

   His cold hands dipped beneath my shirt, and my muscles stiffened at the touch. What was wrong with me? I’d done this so many times before. “Arms up,” he demanded, and I silently obliged. He lifted my shirt over my head, and there were no words or will inside me to stop him as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

   Stupor robbing me of my intelligence, I reached behind my back and unlatched my bra. Liam’s eyes went weak at the sight of my breasts before he cupped them in his hands. Guys like Liam needed this. You would think they were confident, secure, but they were anything but. Guys like Liam had the endless need to feel they were wanted and accepted.

   “Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he said, and when he leaned in, I pulled away. “Sorry, I forgot. No kissing. Won’t happen again.”

   I unbuttoned his jeans as he undid mine, trying to get the deed done and over with as soon as possible. He wouldn’t be able to get me off. It was a never-ending battle with me and countless partners. Reaching an orgasm with anyone was like my success of suicide—an utter and complete failure. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say). Perhaps you had to have feelings to get to that point, and if that was the case, I’d been cursed all along.

   Liam pulled a condom from his back pocket before pushing his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. His eyes remained on my breasts as he ripped the foil packet between his teeth, then slipped the condom on, turned me around, and tried entering me to find I was dry.

   “You’re going to have to help me out,” I said, wondering his limits. There were three kinds of men in this world. The type who would use lubricant, the type who used their fingers, and then there was my favorite kind—the kind who were more willing and eager to please me before their own needs by going down on me, which were few and far between.

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