Page 64 of We Are the Stars

I lick my lips and take a deep breath, preparing myself for what comes next. Elliott slides her hand over until it’s resting over my heart and she presses down, like she’s trying to calm the erratic beats.

It works.

“I walked in. He turned on me, screaming. I did my best to ignore him and headed to where she was, wanting to get her out of there as fast as possible. I get Ma out of the bathroom. She’s clutching me, promising she’s leaving for good. She goes into the bedroom to gather her things. He stands there staring at me, and I can remember my palms growing itchy and my back tingling with unease. He looked so…dark. Then he bolted and locked himself in the room with my mom before I could even process it.”

Elliott grips my chest tighter, and I can almost feel her pulling my pain from me.

“Want to know the last thing she said?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and then says, “I’m scared.”

“I was too,” I admit as a tear streaks down my cheek.

“Tell me.”

“She said, ‘Please, William, don’t.’ I don’t know exactly what happened next, but she shouted ‘I love you’.”

“And then?”

“Silence.”

***

We wake the next morning after the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages, a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Elliott sobbed last night for the longest time after I recounted Boston. I can’t blame her; I cried too. I haven’t been able to get the full story out since I spoke to the cops that night. They held me for twenty-four hours and every hour on the hour, they made me repeat my story. I was tapped after that, completely drained after having to relive it all over and over and over again.

I haven’t told anyone what happened since. Not even in court. Not even during the first grief counseling session I was forced into. Not even Blake and Nate know the details.

I’ve kept mum.

Until now.

Until Elliott.

Maybe she isn’t so bad for me.Maybe there could be something—

No. Stop. You can’t go there. You’re too fucked up for her.

“You up?” Her voice is groggy and sleep-filled.

As much as I hate to admit it, because I hate beingthatguy, the sound goes straight to my dick.

“I’m up.” I cringe at the double entendre. I shuffle around, making sure to hide my morning excitement, and face her. “How’d you sleep?”

“A solid 9.5 on our little scale.”

“Ourscale, huh?

She grins. “Ours.”

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss her. She doesn’t protest, yet for some reason I expect her to because this feels too intimate. Once you add in the fact that we slept wrapped together last night…yeah. I’m certain we’ve overstepped the invisible boundary we had going on, not to mention that Ijusttold myself I was going to keep her at a distance. If that’s the case, why am I pulling her so close right now?

The kiss starts gentle and unhurried, and then she’s lying on top of me, grinding down on my hard dick. I press up into her and she moans into my mouth. I move my hands to her hair, drawing her closer. She rests her forehead against mine and wrenches her lips away. Her arctic blue eyes meet my gray ones. Then, she gives me a seductive smile before grinding down on me again.

I moan, and she grins smugly.

“You’re evil,” I gasp out.

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