Page 77 of Foolish Games

“Yeah, cool,” Chaz says quietly.

There’s a long silent pause.

“Guess I’ll see you then,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “And listen, Viv… I’m sorry about how things turned out. I’m really glad you’re coming over, though. I… I miss you.”

I swallow hard. “I miss you too,” I admit.

After we hang up, I go into my bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. What am I doing? This is what I wanted. For Chaz to miss me, to see I’m someone worth fighting for, someone worth missing.

It worked.

But instead of being happy he might want me back, all I can think about is how much I want to call Sebastian and crow that we won.

We’re close to victory, anyway.

Rob knows, and I could tell him. But even after the questionable things Sebastian’s done, he’s the only one I want to talk to. I’m so confused by all of it that I can’t think straight. I want him, and I want him to call, and the sex was… Devastatingly good.

But I’m also pissed that he bulldozes over my rules like they don’t exist. I was so shocked when he started having sex with me that I didn’t know how to feel. And I felt violated when he did that in front of his friends at the quarry, made me beg like that.

But at the same time, it felt good—more than good—to be seen at my most vulnerable. There are no words to describe the insane level of pleasure he brought me. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling like that, of feeling that much, of being so present in my body that my mind shut off. I’m the rational type, my brain always going. My body is somewhat of an embarrassment to me, something to be tamed and controlled and excused for its animal qualities.

Bodily functions are shameful things to be hidden. Orgasms happen quietly under the covers at night when I’m alone. They’re silently fumbled for in the dark with another person but never quite achieved. They’re not screamed out in public. Wetness is something to be blotted away, not shown off to friends. Cum is something to be discretely cleaned up, not admired as it drips out or shoved back in.

It scares me the things Sebastian does, the way he makes me feel. The way I act when I’m with him, like I’m no longer in control of my body, like I’m a person controlled by pleasure instead of rational thought. Like I’m stupid.

Is that how he feels all the time, controlled by animal impulses instead of his own willpower?

I remember him pounding into me, and heat glows between my thighs. I’m still sore, but I slide a hand down my body and into my sweats. I stroke my finger over the soft curls of pubic hair he petted before he spit into me in front of all his friends. Wetness tingles to life at the memory of that dirty, demeaning thing he did—and how much it turned me on.

I pull my hand out of my pants, scrub with soap and hot water, and return to my room. After lacing up my shoes, I go downstairs to our home gym and run on the treadmill until I’m drenched in sweat and my legs are wobbling with exhaustion instead of the memory of Sebastian buried between them, pounding into me, making me lose control… And my mind along with it.

*

“Put your arm around me,” I hiss to Sebastian on Tuesday after we take our seats at our usual table.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what boyfriends do,” I whisper.

He gives me a sullen look, but he slides an arm around me as Chaz and Krissy walk in together. “Oh, that’s why,” Sebastian says, pulling me in and lifting my chin. He leans in to kiss me, but I turn my head at the last second so his lips land on my cheek.

“Not the lips,” I murmur.

“Lighten up, prude,” he says. “It’s not like I’m finger fucking you under the table.”

When I pull back, Chaz’s gaze is on us, a frown darkening his brow.

Krissy says something to him, and he looks back at her, confusion written across his face. She hisses at him, looking pissed, and stomps to her table with Tommy Hertz.

“Hey, Viv,” Chaz says, stopping at our table. “We still on for tonight?”

“I guess?” I say, glancing over at Krissy, who’s glaring daggers at me.

Tommy sees me looking and makes a lewd gesture with this tongue between two fingers, like he does every time he sees me. At home by myself, the memory of how much Sebastian’s friends have seen sets me on fire. At school, the fact that they saw me lose control and hump his face until I came isn’t so hot. In fact, I have never hated Sebastian more.

“Cool,” Chaz says. “Come over any time.”

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