For Ramses “xLore” Lopez, who inspired me to write this book when we were just 16 years old. I wish you were still here to read it, my friend And for all my readers–life is too short so love who you want, haters be damned
Someday Away is an adult dark MFM college romance with a healthy mix of enemies-to-lovers and spice and some LGBTQAI+representation.Itfeatures anintrovertedheroine andtwobestfriends–a goldenboyanda broodybadboy–who knowhowtohateandloveinequalmeasure Thisbookisastandaloneinaninterconnectedseriesandendswithahappyever after.
Triggerwarnings include drug and alcohol use, addiction, parental abandonment, suicide, eating disorders, abuse, and sexualassault/rape
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6 Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter25 Chapter26
Chapter27 Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
Chapter44
Chapter45
Chapter46
Chapter47
Chapter48
Chapter49
Chapter50
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
CHAPTER ONE
CHARLIE
Istare at the graycathedral-like buildings of Whitmore University, the most prestigious private school inthe Pacific Northwest.Anxietybloomsinmystomach,butIswallow downtheunwantednauseaandslingmybackpackovermy shoulder Idon’thavemuchwithme,justafewbooks,someclothes,andthelaptopmymomgaveme
Today is “Washington stormy,” a constant state of gloom and misty drizzle. I could have gone to a fancy school in California,butI’mnotreallyafanofhotweather AndwhiletheEastCoasthasalotofBigTenschools,thethoughtofmoving that far away from Sebastian and Marcus, my stepbrothers, after my mom’s recent death was unthinkable. I had already deferredcollegeayeartorecoverfromtheloss,butthewoundisstillthere,aconstant,rawburninmychestthatfeelslikeit’s meltingawaymyheartlikesomesortofflesh-eatingbacteria
I walkthroughthe wrought-irongate, lookingfor some indicationof where to find mydormroomassignment. Students bustlearoundtheexpansivequad,chattingandtotingtheirbelongingsintovariousbuildings Youcantellwho’slocalandwho isn't. People running for shelter, sporting bright-colored jackets and umbrellas? They’re definitely out-of-towners. Most Washingtoniansarethick-skinnedandwearblackjacketsiftheyevenownacoatatall Ingeneral,wewalkatacasual pace withnothingmorethanasweatshirttoprotectusfromtheincessantmist.
She grimaces as her eyes assess me,andItense up She reminds me ofthe meangirls frommyhighschool I’mdressed casually in ripped jeans, a hoodie, and Converse, which are already thoroughly soaked. By contrast, Serenity looks like LumberjackBarbie andIdon’tmeanthatinabadway butshe’stryingabittoohardtofitintothePacificNorthwestmotif withherdarkskinnyjeans,calf-highrainboots,anddesignerflannelshirt “Name?”Serenityasks.
“Charlie’sshortforCharlotte,”Irepeatlamely,tryingtoeasetheweirdheavinessweighingonmychest.Iusedtobebetter at“peopling,”butaftermonthsoflimitedhumaninteraction,myskillsfeeldisjointedandrusty,likeI’mtheTinManfromThe Wizard of Oz,desperateforsomesocialoil.
She flips throughthe pages onher clipboard before turningto a boystandingto her right. He’s chattingwitha group of studentswho’rehaulingoverwhatlookslikegrocerybagsofmarshmallows,chocolatebars,andgrahamcrackers “Brantley,doyouhaveaCharlotteBennettonyourlist?Hernameisn’tonmyroster.”
After Iunpack,Iwalkoutintothehallway,exploringthecommunal bathroomsandlaundryfacilities.Everythingisclose andclean Nocomplaintshere
Afterreturningtomyroom,Isitdown,wonderingwhatIshoulddonext.There’saknockatmydoor.Puzzled,Iwalkover and open it A girl stands in the doorway She has beautiful long auburn hair, flawless, pale skin, and adorable freckles pepperedacrossherpetitenose.Hergreeneyeslightupasshetakesmein,andshesmileswidely.
“Wow! This is prettynice,” Fiona says. “Not that there’s anythingwrongwithmyroommate, but the privacywould be nice”Sheglancesupattheclockabovethedoor “Areyougoingdowntothebonfire?Ithinkthey’reabouttolightitup” “Bonfire?”Thatwouldexplainthes’morefixingsIsawearlier.
Fiona loops myarmthroughhers, and we walkto the elevators, ridingdowntogether. Whenthe bronze doors open, I’m struckbythebeautyofthefoyer.I’dalreadypassedthroughonceonmywaytounpack,butfullytakinginitsvaultedceilings andflickeringchandeliersisimpressivetosaytheleast
“It’s pretty,right?” exclaims Fiona,alsoadmiringthe stone archways curvingabove us.“Walkingthroughhere feels like livinginafantasynovel Itnevergetsold”Shesmilesdreamilybeforepullingmetowardthefrontdoor
We walkoutonto the quad. The rainhas stopped, butthe air is still chillyand damp, and itsmells like earth, pine, and smoke.Ishiverasweapproachthefire,andFionaandIhuddletogetherforwarmthasItakeinthefestivitiesaroundme.
“Who’rethey?”IaskFiona,noddingmyheadatthegroup Fionalooksacrossthequad.“Oh,”shelowershervoice,“BrantleyMichaelsissuperannoying,buthe’soneofourhockey centers The super-hotbroodyone is LincolnEvans, and the funnygoldenboyis his bestfriend, TreyWalker They’re both seniors.” She gives me a knowinglook. “I’d avoid those guys though, ifIwere you. They’re hot, butthey’re also conceited assholes,sonotexactlyrelationshipmaterial”Shetapsherchinthoughtfully “Infact,Idon’tthinkthey’veeverdatedanyone They’rekindofslutty.”
Afterpolishingoffmythirddrink,Icrushthecaninmyhandandwanderovertooneoftheoverflowingrecyclingbins I tossthecanfromafewfeetaway,missingmytargetentirely.Itricochetsoffintothesurroundingdarkness.
“Did yourecognize the new scholarship girl?” Serenity’s voice reaches myears, and I openmyeyes, watchingas she approachestherecyclebinandcarefullysetshercanonthealreadyprecariouslystackedpile “Charlieorwhatever?”
“Yeah,Seren,whatabouther?”
I tense up at the smooth, deep voice and peer around the binto get a better view of the speaker. Lincolnand Treyare standingnexttohersmokingajoint LincolntakesalongpullandinhalesbeforepassingittoTrey
Of course I would run into Brighton townies. Lucky me.
“Yes,” Serenity continues, “and I have a friend who went to Brighton Prep who told me that Charlie’s mom was the socialitewhocommittedsuicidelastyear.”
“Well,well,what’sthis?”Lincoln’stoneiscoldandcondescending,andhiseyesarepracticallyblackasIstareupathim intheflickeringfirelight.“AreyoulivingoutyourownPride and Prejudice fantasieseavesdroppinginthedarkness?” I raise my eyebrows, surprised that he understood my reference “Please,” I scoff, “you’re hardly comparable to Mr Darcy.”
Itake a sip, studyinghim. Trey’s evenmore stunningup close, his hair a mess of blond highlights, and his eyes warm, caramel brown He smells faintlyof apples and cinnamon, and whenhis full, pinklips curve ina roguishsmile, I feel my stomachflip.
The clouds still hangheavyinthe late September sky, butthe rainisn’tinfull swingyet, so it’s perfectfall weather. Whitmore’scampusisadornedwithclustersofJapanesemaplesthatlightuplikefireastheseasonstartstoturn.
Thestartofmyfirstweekhasbeenhectic,butI’measingintothefeelingofgoingtoschoolagain Mystepbrothers have been calling me a lot to check in or rather my youngest older stepbrother, Sebastian, has FaceTimed while Marcus ignores me inthe background Itrynotto be hurtbyMarcus’s indifference He still blames me for mymom’s deathand my stepfather theirfather leaving.Theguiltandangerareconstantweightsonmychest.Sometimes,Ican’tbreathe.
The clocktower bell echoes across the quad, and I shake off my dark thoughts Today is the first day of my advanced Englishclass,andI’mbeyondexcitedtogetbacktowriting.Ihadtogetspecial permissiontoevenenroll ina junior-level course,butI’mhopingthatI’llbeabletochurnoutsomeportfoliopiecestosubmittoasummerpublishinginternshipinNew YorkwithRosewoodPublishing.Morethananything,Iwanttobeabookeditorandanauthor,andtheopportunitywouldbea hugesteptowardthatdream.
I enter the humanities building, which naturally also houses the library The smell of books assailing my nostrils is delicious.It’sararesmellthesedayswitheveryone(myselfincluded)readingontheiriPadsandKindles.Icanonlygetmyfix sittinginalibraryoraBarnes&Noble,sniffingtheairlikeacrackaddict
IpulloutmyMacBook,preparingtotakenotesasmynewprofessorstrollsintoclass.He’sfairlyyoung,maybeinhislate thirtiesorearlyforties Heflashesafriendlysmileashedropshisbriefcaseonthefloorandperchesontheedgeofthedesk “Hello,everyone,”hesays.“I’mDr.Jackson.WelcometoEnglish305andFilm311,FictionandScreenplays.” Did he say film?
Ifrownandglancearound.It’saprettylargegroupforajunior-levelclass.Insomestereotypical ways,youcanpickout the Englishmajors fromthe thespians andfilmgeeks.Aboyinfrontofme leans back,passingme the stackofsyllabi going aroundtheroom.
“Ifyou’reanEnglishmajor,youmaybeconfusedrightnow.”Dr.Jacksongivesaknowingsmilewhensomestudentsstart lookingaroundtheroom “Ourtheaterandfilmdepartmentlostaprofessorsuddenly,sotheuniversitymadeanadjustmentand combined the fictionand screenplayclasses together. It’s a bit unorthodox, yes, but inthe future, you’ll spend your careers workingwithpeople fromother backgrounds designers, programmers,marketers, producers, andso on so take this as an opportunitytomirrortherealworld.”
Ivaguelyhearthedooropeningbehindme,andthen,Icansmellhim spicy,earthy,andcrisp.Sweaterweatherinascent. Don’t sit next to me
The chair to myleft scrapes against the floor, and I glance over at LincolnfreakingEvans sittingnext to me inall his broodyglory
“Nowthateveryonehasapartner,thisclasswillculminateinthespringwithafinalproject,”Dr Jacksonannounces “The ownerofLakesideCinemaonMainStreethasgraciouslyagreedtoshowacollectionofshortfilmswrittenandperformedby WhitmoreUstudents.Englishstudentswillwritethescreenplaysandfilmstudentswillbedirecting.”Hetakesadeepbreath and smiles. “Whitmore U’s drama department will be performingthe pieces, and we’ll have some help fromthe technical theatermajorsaswell.”Hisdarkeyesscantheclassroom.“Thisisabigdeal,folks itwillbeseventy-fivepercentofyour gradeandagreatportfoliopieceforafutureemployer,soIsuggestyoutakeitseriously”
ItrytoswallowthesinkingsensationinmystomachasIglanceatLincoln.He’scompletelytunedout,textingonhisphone. This is going to be a disaster Therestofclasspassesquickly,andthankfully,Lincolndoesn’tcausemeanymoregrief.
“Idid some researchlastnight, and apparentlyLakeside was boughtup a few years ago byone ofthe university’s rich donors,andhe’sfinallygottenaroundtorevampingit,”saysFionawithashrug “Iheardtheyarereopeningittoshow older movieswithstudentpricing.”
Idosoreluctantly,sippingmycoffeeandwonderingifI’mgoingtoregretthis.Ihavealotonmyplatewithschoolwork since I’mtaking one class over the recommended number in order to play catch-up But my savings are running low, so I definitelyneedtofindasourceofincome.
EventhoughI’mcertainthatthe popper hasn’tbeenused ina while, Icanstill smell a hintofstale popcorninthe air, ticklingmysenseslikeabuttery,saltedmemory.
Growingup,movieswereahugepartofmylife Myparentswerekidsoftheeightiesandnineties,andtheylovedtoshow meclassicslike The Princess Bride, Back to the Future, Die Hard,anythingdirectedbyJohnHughes Icouldgoon.Itwas partofthereasonIbecameawriterinthefirstplace.Filmsareaformofstorytelling,andstorytellingstartswithwriting.
“I’mJohn.” The man extends his hand, and we both shake it in turn. “Charlotte Bennett,” John says with a wide grin. “You’reMartinConner’sdaughter”
Myexpressionfalters,butIcatchitbeforeitfalls.“Stepdaughter,yes howdoyouknowMartin?” “Hewasabusinesspartnerofmine,”Johnsays,hisexpressionunreadable “Heactuallysoldmethisplaceawhileback” Of course he did,Ithink.Mystepfatherisawealthypropertyinvestorandaworkaholic.
FionaandIleavethetheaterjustasitstartstoraininearnest.Weglanceateachotherandbreakintoarun,headingfor the closest coffee shop. I’msoaking wet by the time we enter, my boots squeaking on the tile floor as I run into someoneverytallandfirm Theperson’sarmsflywide,attemptingtosavehishotcoffeefromsloshingontothefloor Hisscent,asubtlemixofsandalwoodandpine,envelopsme,andIshakemyhead,tryingtothinkstraight.Ilookupintoapair ofstunninggrayeyes,darkandturbulentlikeanincomingstorm
Lincolnglancesatherdarklybeforethosestupidbeautifuleyesreturntomine Weglowerateachother,standingsoclose together thatIcanfeel his mintybreathbrushingacross mycheeks. Finally, Lincolnconcedes, pushingroughlypastme and walkingoutthedoorintothedownpour.Myshouldertingleswhereourbodiestouched. Istareafterhim.“Well,isn’theatreat?”
Fiona snorts with laughter. “A delicious treat. I want to eat and swallow him whole.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively
Igiggle.“God,you’resocrude.”Iwalkuptothecountertobrowsethemenu. “Likeyouweren’tthinkingthesamethingwhileyoueye-fuckedhim,”Fionasayswithasmirk “Idefinitelydid not eye-fuckhim,”Iprotest,butmyfaceflushes. Icertainlydon’tlikehim,butshe’sright he’seasyontheeyes.
Treychuckles “Imean,who is yourtype?You’veneverreallybeenpicky”Heputsonhisblinkerandpullsintotraffic Igrindmyteethinsteadofarguingwithhim.Ihaven’treallybeeninterestedinanyoneforalongtime,soitseemslikeI’m indiscriminate I use girls I’mnot really proud of it, but I also have needs that I let consume me because I want to feel something anything evenshameanddisgustwithmyself.
Untilyesterday
EverymuscleinmybodytensedwhenIsaw her again,asifbracingfor impact.Iknow whosheis,butIdon’tthinkshe recognizedme,whichjustenragedmefurther.
Thisismyschool,andsheshouldn’tbehere IleftherbehindwhenIcamehere Butthenoureyeslocked,andshestaredatmewithaquietintensitythatmademyheartbeatagainforthefirsttimesince that night Shelookedconfused,andthenjustasangryasIwas Shewasfire,andwithoneheatedlook,Iwasburningalive Afterwefirstlockedeyes,Iwatchedheroffandonthroughoutthenight,obsessingoverherlongchestnuthairthatswayed overherback,herskinnyjeansthathuggedhertightassandcurvesinalltherightplaces,andherfulllipsthatoftenfellintoa distrustfulpoutwhenshecaughtmestaring.
Thensheopenedthatperfectlittlemouth,standingupfor herself,showingmeasassysideofher thatI’donlysuspected existed I hate her.
WhenwegettotheWolfBuilding,westepintotheelevatorandtakeituptothetwentiethfloor,whichisprettymuchthe penthouse of dormrooms. Treyand I live up here together, and we have a ridiculous amount of space. The place has two bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, a large modern kitchentrimmed with marble and stainless steel, and a generous living room It’snotverypersonal,butit’scomfortable,andit’stheperfectspacefortheepicpartieswehosteveryyear
Treytosseshisbackpackontothefloor andwalksintothekitchen,openingthefridgeandconsideringitscontentsbefore grabbing an apple and biting into it The noise makes my skin crawl, and he stops, smiling widely when he notices my irritability.
TreyknowstheConnershadsomethingtodowiththechangeinmyfamilydynamictwoyearsago he’sbeenprettymuch livingwithussincehewasten,afterall.ButTreydoesn’tknowthewholetruth.Heknowsmymom,Allie,leftabruptlyfora job inNew York, thatmydad, John, became anemotionallydetached asshole (like father, like son, Isuppose), and thatthe Conners were somehow involved. Treyalso knows whatthe media reported later thatsame year: Ellen, the wife ofMartin Conner, one of Brighton’s wealthiest property investors, died. Charlie’s mom’s cause of death was kept private. Which is unfortunatesincethatbitchdeservedtohavehernamedraggedthroughthemud.Butenoughmoneywillkeepanythingasecret evenasuicide.
Trey shrugs, completely accepting of my irrational thought process Then he smiles broadly “Okay, but can I tap that? Becausehonestly,Charlie’sstunningnomatter whather parentsdid.Andshe’s anatural beauty,notapaintedfakemess like Serenandherfriends”
Why do I care? He’ll probably lose interest if he fucks her, too. We’rebothemotionallydamagedlikethat
THE NEXT MORNING,afteranearlyworkoutsession,TreyandIstrollintothedininghallaroundnine Theplaceiscavernous withrow afterrow oflongoaktablesandawalloftallcathedral-esquewindowstotheright,whichallow thegraymorning lighttofilterin
Irefuse to lookat Lincolnagain. Instead, I focus onenjoyingmyyogurt, but it’s just sad and white. I wishtheyhad sprinkles,andImakeanotetobuysomefromthegrocerystore.Myheartrateslowlyreturnstonormal.
The clack of expensive heels interrupts my meal, and I watch as Serenity approaches my table Her makeup is flawless,andher blondehair istiedintoschoolgirl pigtailsalaBritneySpearsinthe“...Baby,OneMoreTime”video.Her blueeyesareicecoldasshestaresatme
“You’resittinginmyseat.”
Iglancearoundatliterallydozensofemptytables.
This bitch,Ithink,lookingupatherwithaboredexpression AfterallowingSerenitytomakemefeelsosmallwithhersnobbyattitudeduringourlastencounter,I’ddecidedIwouldn’t letherintimidatemeagain OrIwasn’tgoingtoshowit,atleast Iwavemyarmexpansively.“Well,I’msittinghere,sowhydon’tyouwalkyourfakeasssomewhereelseandfindanother seat It’sabigfuckingdininghall”
I roll my eyes and return to my homework I hear her annoyed huff, and for a moment, I think she’s given up on this ridiculoushighschool-esqueshowofdominance.
Iglareathim,andlookbackatSerenity,rageburningthroughmyveinslikeacid.Withoutthinking,Imakeafistjustlike SebtaughtmewhenIwasbeingbulliedinmiddleschool,andIswing Hard
Serenity’s eyes widen in alarmbefore my punch connects with her face, and this time the loud crack comes fromthe breaking bones in her nose. She screeches, her hands flying to her face to stop the torrent of blood following the hit. She collapsestoherkneesdramatically.
Ilookup ather, mygaze softening, and she smiles shyly I’msuddenlygrateful she’s here someone IthinkIcantrust Fiona grabs myhand, and we walkinside and take the elevator up to mydormroom. Ithrow mybackpackonthe bed and gingerlyremovetheruinedlaptop
I’msittinginmydormroomona Fridayafternoon, typingclass notes fromthe pastweekinto mynew library-issued laptop.IttooktheschoolawhiletotrackonedownsinceIdidn’treserveitbeforethesemesterstarted.It’snotasnice asmyMacBook,butit’lldoasareplacementfornow ThankGodallmydocumentswerebackeduptomyiCloud It’s beenaweeksincetheincidentwithSerenity,andI’veavoidedthedininghall ever since,still feelingself-conscious aboutthewholething AndpeopledefinitelyknowwhoIamnow Somuchforlivingmybestlifeasacollegeintrovert I’vecaughtafewglimpsesofSerenity,sportingacastonhernoseandtwoblackeyesthatevenherheavyfoundationcan’t hide.Visceral hatredpours offher whenever she notices me,butI’ve beenchoosingtoignore her for now,hidingoutinmy dormroommoreoftenthannot I’mparanoidshe’llrainrevengeonmewhenI’mleastexpectingit I’ve noticed Lincolnand Treyaround campus a few times. Okay, I’ve actuallybeenstalkingthemlike a creep. ThoughI don’tthinkthey’venoticedmelurkingundertreesorsittingagainsttallstonebuildingswhileIscribbleinmynotebook They’reanunlikelypair.Trey,thebeautifulgoldenboywithsmilesfordays,andLincolnthemysterious,broodybadboy.I don’tunderstandtheirfriendshipdynamic,whichiswhatmakesthemsointerestingtome
Ofcourse,classistheonlynormalplaceIcancasuallyinteractwithLincoln,andhehasn’tsaidawordtomeallweek.He stillsitsnexttome,hisbodypressedunnecessarilyclosetomine,soIhavetobelieveit’sintentionalconsideringthere’sasea ofemptyseatsaroundus I’vespentthelasttwoclassesengulfedinhisscentwhiletryingdesperatelytoconcentrate Idon’tknow whyhe hates me so much, butIcancertainlyfeel his animositywitheverytickofhis jaw and intentional glare Hemakesmefeelsmall,andIhateit
Yesterday before class, I tried to speak to Dr. Jackson about trading partners with someone, but he told me rather dismissively that this wasn’t high school “We’re all adults now, Ms Bennett If you can’t handle this type of assignment, you’rewelcometotakeafreshman-levelclass.”
Feeling self-conscious, I mumbled an apology and turned just in time to catch Lincoln’s angry glare, and it cut me to ribbons KnowinghemayhaveheardaddedanotherlevelofshametomyembarrassmentbecausewhileIdohatehim,I’mnot amonster.
His grayeyes were emptyas he snatched the phone frommyoutstretched hand and quicklyentered his number. Thenhe textedhimselfandsavedmyinfo Asheslidthephonebacktome,hisfingersbrushedmine Thetouchwasbriefbutitsenta joltofheatstraighttomycore.
There’s a knockat mydoor, and Ijump up inanticipation, closingmylaptop and slidingit under mypillow. Sebastian textedmethismorningtellingmehewascomingtoWhitmoreUforaquickvisitonhiswaytoSeattle IaskedaboutMarcus theyoftenmakethesebusinesstripstogether butSebsaidhewastoobusytocomethistime.Itrytoignoretheacheinmy chest IknowSebisjustbeingnice,andMarcusreallyjustdidn’twanttoseeme
“Don’t knockit. Otters canbe veryvicious despite their cuteness. And didn’t youalreadyknow our logo, Mr. Hockey Fanatic?”
Seb shrugs. “I follow the NHL, but college hockey? Not so much. But…” He taps his finger onhis chin. “I might start followingitmoreifyoucangetusintoafewgames.”
Sebseemssatisfiedafterthat,andIwalkhimbacktothevisitorlot.Ican’thelpbutfeelthestingofsadnessinmychestas hedrivesaway,butIpushitdownandheadbacktomydormtowaitforFiona Afew minutes later, she barges into my roomwith several dresses draped over one armand what looks like a damn suitcaseofmakeupandhairproducts.
“I’mnotseeingthe problem” Fiona grins “Plus,it’s the same color as the bloodthatpouredfromSerenity’s nose,” she continuesinasinistertone.
“Jesus,Fi,that’sdark,”Isay,suppressingalaugh Anhourlater,wewalkacrosscampus,andIfeelcompletelyoutofmyelement.ThankfullybecauseI’msoshort,thedress isn’t as scandalous as I originallythought it would be. It has a plungingneckline that showcases myample breasts, and it cinchesatmywaistbeforeflaringout,soitaccentuatesmycurvesnicely.Afteranargumentaboutmyshoes,wecompromised withmyfavoritepairofcalf-highbrownleatherboots.
Thelivingroomis hugewithtoweringglass windows thatfacethedarksilhouettes ofthedistantmountains Itwouldbe beautifulifitweren’tforthesoundofblaringrapmusic.
“IsthatEminem?”Iyell,justasthechorusto“TheRealSlimShady”warblesfromthespeakers Scantilycladpeopleare grindingagainsteachother to the rhythm. Couples make outonthe couchwhile theyclutchred Solo cups. Inthe kitchen, a crowdischeeringoveralivelygameofbeerpong There’sakeginthecorner
Iturnto find Treyleaningagainstthe wall His blond hair falls haphazardlyover his warmbrowneyes framed bylong, thicklashes. He’s beautiful, and he looks delicious indarkjeans and a button-up blackshirt that stretches across his wide chest Hisshirtsleevesarerolledup,showingofftannedforearmscrisscrossedwithveinsthatendwithhislargehands Hesnapshisfingersatme.“HeyBennett,eyesuphere.I’mnotapieceofmeat,youknow.”
Myeyesbouncebackuptohisface,andIfeelmyneckandcheeksflush “Iwasn’tcheckingyouout,ifthat’swhatyou’re implying,”Istammer,eventhoughIdefinitelywas.“Andthereareveryfewteenmoviesfromtheninetiesworthwatching.” He steps closer, bringingour mouths onlyinches apart. The scent of freshapples witha hint of cinnamonfills the air. Somethingabouthimmakesmefeelcalm,likeI’veknownhimforever,eventhoughthisisonlythesecondtimewe’vespoken “Uh-huh,”hesays.“Whatabout10 Things I Hate About You or Clueless?” “Theydon’tcount”Ibreathehimin “Theyhaveanunfairadvantagebecausethey'rebasedonliterature” “Looselybased,”hereplieshuskily,staringatmymouth. Ilickmylips.ThesuddenattractionIfeelforhimisheadyandintoxicating.
Fiona clears her throat, lookingbetweenus. “Um, I’mgoingto geta drink.” She starts walkingtoward the bar. “Do you wantsomething?”
“Actually, Iread inaninterview thatHemingway’s drinkofchoice was scotchand soda,” Isayquietly. “So maybe my drinkisn’tsofaroffbase.”
Trey’s eyes fall tomylips as Ispeak,andeverythingbelow mybellybuttonstarts totingleas hepresses closer tome I stareupathiminshockwhenIfeelhiserectionhardagainstmythigh.Hedoesn’teventrytohideit.
Hiseyeswiden.“You’recompletelysoaked,”Treywhispersasheskimsmypussythroughthethinmaterialgently. We’re standing in the middle of a party with people mingling all around us I should be mortified, but I’mnot Nope Instead,I’veneverbeensoaroused.Myrestraintisbeingseriouslytested.I’mdesperatetogrindagainsthishand.
