Page 16 of Forged By Shadows

“Not the dorm. I want to go home.” She bangs her head back against the mirror. “I miss Meg. I miss my mom and Nixon. I hate it here. I hate always being late. I hate having nowhere private to just be myself. Everyone is always watching. And every time I try to do what normal students do, Wyatt and his asshole friends are there to throw me into a spin.”

I can’t comment, being one of those asshole friends myself.

“I just…I can’t keep…” Avery struggles to find the words, tears threatening to fall. I act on instinct. Pushing my way between her knees, I do what I’m best at. I wrap my arms around her back and force her into my chest.

“I get it,” I try to reassure her. Avery laughs bitterly, refusing to hug me back. “No really. I’ve spent long enough around broken people to understand. You need something solid to hold onto.”

She waits a beat, then tentatively winds her arms around me. The man she almost put in the hospital ten minutes ago, but I have a feeling nothing is straightforward when it comes to Avery. She hasn’t lived in the real world. She doesn’t have any point of reference for social situations, and has somehow found herself at the heart of the most fucked-up friendship group around. At least while she’s hugging me, I know she isn’t plotting my death. Avery’s breath hitches, her head becoming heavy against my chest.

“I can’t depend on you.” I agree with her small voice, but I refuse to let her go just now. The music and laughter from the party simmers on the level below. Wyatt will have found someone to distract him by now. Axel has Garrett, Dax has his terrible smoking habit. What or who does Avery have?

When I can’t handle my own train of thought any longer, knowing I’ve always been a soppy drunk, I release her. Bracing myself on either side of her legs on the counter, my head lowers.

“Okay, let’s make a truce. Anytime any of us annoys you from now on, I’ll let you beat me up. I volunteer as tribute and all that. You can restrain me if you like, but I need you to promise me one thing.” Bringing my face up, her perfume mixed with the stench of whiskey hits me.

“What?” Avery’s eyes return to mine, suspicious and curious.

“Lead with your left hand. We can’t let anything come between you and your multicolored highlighters.” A smirk hitches the corner of my mouth in an attempt to dissipate the thick atmosphere. Avery’s brow rises.

“Dax?” she guesses.

“He may have mentioned it.” I leave out that he didn’t know who she was at the time. It was nice to see him giddy for a change, talking of a cute girl in his class. Then it all came crashing down.

Slowly sitting upright, Avery enters my personal space. Her eyes are all encompassing; the palest blue flecked with light green. Her lips are full, slightly parted. In a stolen moment that has no business happening, my gaze roams over her body. I’m used to girls toting around this house in bikinis and heels, nothing left to the imagination. But not Avery. Her long sleeved white top hugs her curves, the black shorts sitting high on her waist. Even though they needn’t be, her legs are covered with fishnet stockings. She’s like a present, ready to be unwrapped.

“I’m going to move away now,” I breathe, ignoring how I feel the words bounce off her lips. My hands grip the sides of the counter as Avery slowly nods.

“Okay.”

“Just gonna…back away and leave,” I repeat. Maybe if I say the words enough, my body will follow through.

“Wyatt will kill you if you don’t,” Avery also tries to convince me.

“He’d bury me six feet under.” My eyes dip to the junction of her thighs. I know how tight she is, how beautifully she glistens. I swallow thickly, on the verge of panting. “Why is forbidden fruit so tempting?”

“Because it’s forbidden,” Avery whispers with a smirk that is almost my undoing. At the point where I decide I’m not going to deny myself a second longer, the loud shrill in my pocket saves us both. Dragging the device out, I hand Avery her phone and shove myself away for good. She makes a disappointed noise in her throat and I’m right back again.

“What’s wrong?”

“My roommate,” Avery sighs and turns the screen to face me. I’m affronted by a photo of a blue tie hanging on a door handle, accompanied by the words DON’T COME HOME. We share a quick glance, a question in our tipsy gazes.

“Hit the shower. I’ll make you up a bed on my floor. But don’t get any ideas. If I took this any further, Wyatt would have my balls.”

“And we wouldn’t want that,” Avery smiles at last and slides off the counter. I pause at the sarcasm in her tone. I think Avery would be exceedingly happy if my testicles were hung in the study as a decorative ornament. The shower is switched on behind me and I feel like I should receive a medal of honor for making it all the way into my bedroom without looking back. Just as I lose my nerve though, my cock straining in my pants, I turn to see the door being slammed shut in my face. I guess I’ll just jerk off into her pillow instead.

Chapter Ten

Apinging sounds beneath my face, jerking me upright. I fumble with my phone to silence it before anyone else hears.

“Shit, shit, shush!” I whisper as if the device can hear me. Managing to find the snooze, I slump back onto the fluffy blanket. My head is spinning, an empty bottle of gin knocking my knees as I draw them into my body. Settling back into a hungover, miserable state, the sudden realization of what my alarm was for physically slams into me. Fuck, I’m going to be late.

I scramble to gather my phone, bag, and heels, stopping in the middle of the darkened room. A deep inhale and rumbling exhale comes from the four poster bed, Huxley’s outline strewn across the covers. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him, every limb honed with defined muscle. His blond hair is scruffy against the pillows. I glance from my fishnet stockings and crumpled shirt to the dead-like figure on the bed. On second thoughts, I can’t attend my appointment like this.

There’s a solid wood dresser, each drawer presenting neatly folded stacks of clothes. I ‘borrow’ a white t-shirt, pair of gray sweatpants and patterned boxers, before heading into the bathroom. Huxley doesn’t stir once. After quickly washing, scrubbing my face and finding a pack of new toothbrushes in the vanity, I dress in his clothes. The sweatpants have a drawstring, the t-shirt I twist at the side to reveal my navel. It’ll have to do. Across the far side, I’m provided an escape into another bedroom. Thankfully, this one is empty. I raid the wardrobe for shoes, finding a pair of sneakers which are only a few sizes too big. That’s what laces are for I guess.

Cracking the door, voices travel from downstairs. All male. Wyatt is shouting, Garrett is laughing, and Axel is trying to mediate.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Wyatt barks, evidently slamming something soon after. I creep out into the hallway, careful to stay against the far wall. “I told you to keep the fuck away from her.”

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