Page 60 of Antidote

Fuck Conrad for forcing him into my life again, and fuck Oliver for tempting me with the forbidden. He knows I can’t have him no matter what I want. And I know I need to stay away now more than ever, especially when he’s seen my weakness. He is that weakness and will exploit it any chance he gets since he can’t wait for me to fall from grace. He can’t wait for me to give in to him just so he can rub it in my face. I bet he doesn’t even care about me anymore.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I take it out.

Ollie

Are you coming home tonight?

I stare at the text message for the longest time, and then I reply, because I don’t have any self-control.

Hunter

Probably.

With that, I pocket my phone and make my way back inside. The throng of people grinding and dancing is annoying, and I push past them as quickly as possible. The smell of sweat and drugs and sex is intense, and I hurry up the stairs if only to get away from it.

Leanne is at the top of the stairs, her long brown hair loose down her back. She’s wearing skimpy shorts, a crop top, and some Vans. I bet any other guy would be salivating over her, but I feel absolutely nothing. My cock doesn’t twitch, and my belly doesn’t fill with butterflies. Instead, a feeling of dread spreads through my veins until I feel like I’m being poisoned with it.

She’s staring right at me though, and I feel obligated to say hello.

“Hi,” I tell her as I reach her, and her brown eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. All I can notice is that they’re not blue. No, hers are brown and bloodshot from what I imagine is alcohol consumption or worse. “Wanna dance?” Dancing is the last thing I want to do, but it feels like the right thing to say. If only so I don’t look like a weirdo at this party. I am the captain of the hockey team after all, and I have an image to uphold.

“Nah.” She says, then looks behind me. I look over my shoulder to see if someone is there, but it’s only the bathroom door. “Wanna hook up?”

“S-sure.” I can feel the blood draining from my brain, and I’m suddenly lightheaded. If I say no, I’ll look bad. What if she thinks I’m gay? What if she tells everyone? So I nod, “Okay.”

I follow behind her as she knocks on the door and opens it. Thankfully it’s empty, but it already smells like pussy in here, which makes me wrinkle my nose. I need this to work, though. I need to get turned on by her, not because I’m thinking of someone else. So I’m going to try my damn best not to.

She closes and locks the door, and before I can take my next breath, she pushes me against the door. My head hits it with a loud thump, and the breath escapes from my lungs. But I plaster a smile onto my face, and when she lunges herself into my arms, I force myself not to grimace. But her smell is all wrong, something like flowers and alcohol. She doesn’t smell like vanilla cupcakes. It’s not him.

Fuck.

I grab her ass and grind her against my dick as she slams her lips to mine, but when she sticks her tongue down my throat I almost gag. I breathe in deeply through my nose in an attempt to quiet my thoughts and just focus on the moment, but I’m really not into this—into her. But still, I keep grinding her against me in hopes that the friction will wake me up. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t happen.

Leanne pulls away, her cheeks red, her chest heaving. She grins at me, but when she looks down at my pants, she notices my dick isn’t hard, and she frowns. Her hand reaches out, and she palms my dick over my pants, rubbing it aggressively. This is all so wrong, goddamnit.

“Do you want to finger me?” she asks, and I cringe.

Not particularly.

“Sorry, I’m no good at it, babe,” I lie, considering I’ve had my fair share of practice. I just don’t want to do it.

“That’s okay.” She smirks. “You know what I’m good at?”

“What?” I appease her by asking, even if I want to tell her I don’t care.

“Sucking dick.”

Leanne falls to her knees in front of me and unbuttons my jeans, pulling my flaccid dick out. Honestly, it’s embarrassing. What’s more embarrassing is how she takes me in her mouth and it doesn’t stir to life. It’s all wrong, all fucking wrong. I don’t want her—or this.

I shove her back lightly and she comes off my dick with a loud pop, and I grimace. “Sorry, Leanne.” And I mean it. “I think I just had too much to drink. Maybe next time?”

“Sure.” She forces a smile onto her face. “Next time.”

There will absolutely be no next time. Not in this lifetime or the next. However, I paste a fake smile on my face, tuck myself back in, and then exit the bathroom without a second glance. I almost feel bad for her, that is, until I realize who’s waiting for me at home.

Is my dick broken, or does it only work for him? I guess I’m about to find out.

The auction was last night, and I still can’t believe I sold my painting. It’s a high I’ll never forget. My only regret is that Hunter wasn’t there to cheer me on. In another life, another time, I know he would’ve been. And that ruined my whole good mood.

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