Reluctantly pulling my hand out from underneath her dress, she follows my lead, so we both have our hands to ourselves. I inch my legs out of the way so she can squeeze through and climb out, but she doesn’t budge, looking at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” Her voice carries confidence, but her slackened posture and uneasy demeanor portray self-doubt and the doubt makes me hesitate.
“Maybe I shouldn’t,” I say, torn between the good side of me and the bad, the drunken side and the sober side. Rules. No relationships. What am I doing? “It might not be a good idea… maybe…”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen in horror and it surprises me. With all the flirting we’ve done and the guys Lila has slept with, I’d never expect her to look so hurt. And maybe that’s why I decide to do it. Or maybe I’m just really, really stupid, but somehow I find myself getting out of the cab with her.
After we pay, we run in a drunken stupor to her complex, laughing about God knows what. When we reach her door, she fumbles with her keys, until finally she gets it open. She trips over her own feet, laughing as my fingers fold around her waist, catching her before she falls.
“You’re a clumsy drunk,” I say as she stands up straight, steadying herself by clutching on to my shoulders.
“And you’re sexy when you’re drunk,” she says, biting her lip as she turns to face me.
My hands are still on her waist, my fingers gripping at her skin, wanting to feel more of it, but I’m still hesitating to take it any further. I know Lila—like really know her—and afterward, I’ll have to see her again. What if it changes things between us? Do I care? As soon as I think it, I realize I do care about her more than I want to admit. She knows more about me than anyone. Jesus, she really does. I’ve told her shit about my parents, my druggy past, and my future loner plans and she’s told me a lot of stuff about her and how her dad is verbally abusive and cheats on her mom all the time and her mom just accepts it. We know stuff about each other and I never even got that far with London.
Looking anxious and uncertain, Lila grips the front of my shirt and tugs me with her as she walks backward toward the hallway. Neither of us says anything. We don’t turn on the lights. We just breathe loudly with each step, our eyes fastened together as we move our legs in sync.
Minutes, or maybe seconds, later, we’re falling onto her bed. I brace myself with my arms, catching my weight so I don’t crush her, and she gazes up at me, not saying anything, just breathing, her chest brushing against mine with every inhale. I want her so damn bad and I know she can tell since my hard-on is pressed up against her hip. Unable to tolerate the tension anymore, I lower my mouth toward hers, ready to kiss her, but she turns her head at the last second and my lips brush against her cheek instead. At first it’s kind of weird, but then she slides her body upward, so her neck is in my face and I understand what she wants.
I press my lips to her skin, rolling my tongue out, and then drag my teeth gently across her neck as her hand finds the top of my shorts and she undoes the button and zipper. I shiver and groan as she grabs my cock and starts to rub me hard again. I bite down on her skin, maybe a little too roughly but she trembles with me, enjoying it, but she doesn’t moan, which is disappointing because the sound of it in the cab nearly drove me crazy in a good way. I want to make her moan so badly that it becomes the sole focus of my thoughts. Moving my body downward, I create a path of kisses and gentle bites, nibbling soft skin until I reach the top of her dress. Then I suck the curve of her breast as I reach up and slip one of the straps down her shoulder.
“You are so beautiful,” I mutter. The sight of her skin right there for me to taste is driving me fucking crazy and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be inside someone as much as I do right now. I’m about to yank her other strap down so I can get a full view of her breasts when I realize how still she’s gone. At first I think she’s passed out, but when I pull back, she’s just lying there motionless as she stares at the ceiling, fiddling with the platinum ring on her finger.
“Lila,” I say, trying not to worry over what it could mean. That maybe I’d misread her and she really wasn’t into this. Did I force her to do something? Shit. I didn’t even remember to ask if she wanted this.
“Yeah,” she answers numbly, without looking at me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds as hollow as she looks. “Keep going.”
I blink at her, stunned, and then I sit up, disconnecting the fiery connection between our bodies. “Keep going? Are you even into this?” I try not to sound upset, but it shows through the unevenness in my voice.
She still doesn’t look at me, and when she speaks, her voice is flat. “Yeah, I want it.”
“You sure as hell don’t sound like you want it.” I climb off the bed and zip my shorts back up. “How wasted are you?”
She finally meets my eyes and I’m taken back by the emptiness in them. And it’s not because she’s drunk. She knows what’s going on, yet it looks like she feels nothing about it. As much as I hate to admit it, it stings, tears at my heart a little.
“I’m just going to go,” I say, backing toward the door, pissed off at myself for getting into this situation to begin with. I knew better than to go here with her and now I can’t take it back.
She sits up, the moonlight filtering through her window, illuminating her pale skin. Her eyes look black in the shadows. “If that’s what you want,” she says emotionlessly.
I have no idea how to take her right now. I could ask her questions, but we’re both drunk, and honestly the hurt inside me is intensifying. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” It’s all I say—all I can say at the moment because I have no idea what’s going on and I despise how freaked out I’m feeling over it.
I leave her in her room and she doesn’t chase after me. By the time I reach the curb, I’m chewing myself out for ever going there because I know there’s no way we can go back to what we were before. This is irrevocable.
Chapter Five
Lila
November is pretty much over and I’m running out of money and ways to escape the landlord. I know I need to get a job, but I’ve never worked before and I’m not qualified for any decent jobs. I guess I never really thought the whole being-on-your-own thing completely through. I feel like I’m standing at this fork in the road and both paths lead to places I don’t want to go. I could go backward, but I don’t want to go there either. My past is full of irreversible mistakes. I’m sure anyone who looked at me, when I was medicated anyway, wouldn’t think I had any problems. But I’m seriously considering breaking down and asking someone for help. Asking Ella. My sister even, although she can barely take care of herself. I even went as far as calling her, but she cut the call short, saying she had to go to work. I could hear her son crying in the background, the one I’ve met only once because I moved away and haven’t been back to California since. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, the conversation is causal and rushed because she’s always too overwhelmed with bills or her job as a waitress.
I could talk to Ethan, but I haven’t really seen much of him since the whole club fiasco. I’m not even really sure what happened. I mean, he’d finally given me what I wanted, touching me and kissing me, and even through the alcohol it’d felt different, good for once, like I was safe and maybe worthy of being touched like that. But it lasted for only a moment and then the past caught up with me. The second we reached the bed I knew what was going to happen. He’d fuck me and then leave me and I’d be completely alone this time because Ethan is pretty much my only friend anymore and now I don’t even know if he’s that.
So I let the off switch flip me into a state of numbness and I moved through the motions, knowing what I was supposed to do but making myself disconnect from my emotions. What shocked me though is that he was upset about it. No guy has ever been upset about how I act. Then he’d left without finishing and I haven’t talked to him since. I’m a little afraid too, afraid of what he saw in me that night or didn’t see in me.
The last week has been really depressing and the only company I’ve really had is a random friendly call from my sister and my mother’s phone calls that leave me feeling emptier than I did before them. She keeps making threats, telling me she’s going to disown me if I don’t get my ass back to California. It’s not too late, she keeps saying. Brentford Mansonfield is back from his six-month trip to Europe and he’s looking to settle down. I could win him over, start again, and turn myself into someone worthy of the Summers name. I asked her if she really thought Brentford wanted used goods for a wife.
“Well, you’re almost twenty-one, Lila,” she’d said. “No one expects you to be a virgin.”
“True, but I’m also kind of a whore,” I’d responded, mainly because I’d had a couple glasses of wine and was feeling a little bit tipsy.
“Lila Summers, watch your mouth,” she replied sharply. “You will not utter such things aloud.”
“Why? It’s true.”
“I know it’s true. I’m the one who had to come clean up the mess in New York.”
“How can I forget,” I said. “Since you’re always reminding me.”
“Lila, quit being a little bitch. I didn’t raise you to be that way. I raised you to keep your mouth shut and to do what you were told.”
I couldn’t take the frustration building inside me anymore, so I let it explode and screamed into the phone, “Like you do with Dad and his slutty mistress!”
She called me a spoiled bitch and told me she was going to hang up. I told her okay, because I didn’t really have that much more to say and she hasn’t called me since.
It’s overwhelmingly hot today, but I couldn’t turn the fan on since it would rack up my already overdue power bill. I open the candy cane slash pill drawer again, reaching for the bottle at the bottom. Ethan gave me the candy canes as a Christmas present after I told him I’d never had a candy cane, and it was seriously the sweetest moment I’ve ever had with a guy.
