Page 66 of Terror Tuesday
“That was too much, sorry,” Elliot mutters, brushing it off.
But I can’t protest. My mouth won’t work.
Sidling up to the bar, he nods at me to beckon me closer. “What does a woman like Olivia Cardell drink?”
“I’ll have a Franziskaner on tap.”
Elliot pauses, surprised. “And I’ll have the same,” he tells the bartender. “We’ll start a tab.” That word again—we. Like we’re a unit. Like I’m his.
When the drinks arrive, frost clings to the glass and a single rivulet trails down the curve, catching light like a tear. He leads us to a corner booth in the back, away from the handful of students trickling in. It’s dim, the only glow coming from a blue neon beer sign that readsEveryone is Watching.
As I slide onto the vinyl seat, the surface creaks under my thighs.
I sip my beer and let it burn down my throat. The same that was just ravaged by the masked man three nights ago. And perhaps I’m using both men to forget the sadness overwhelmingme during the press conference I had to give on Saturday. Or the silent vigil, seeing pictures of my friend everywhere yesterday. Either way, I’ll take it.
Because being with Elliot is like being free to be who I was meant to be.
Does he understand the nuances of Greek Life? I’ve never seen a future with a guy, never even entertained one, if I couldn’t be appointed to him. Is it selfish of me to dream of riding his dick, then moving on to someone long term?
Vanq surely isn’t my appointed, either, but I swallowed his cum. Though, it was a shock that he is indeed a university student. But it made sense when I thought of it further. Probably in computer science… Is he aBetaI don’t know?
Once we settle into the back booth, Elliot stretches his legs out under the table, beer in hand, but his eyes don’t leave me.
“So.” He licks his upper lip of the froth that’s formed there before he continues. “What do you do for fun around here?”
“Fun…” I muse.
Pausing for a moment, he chuckles. “Fun. Yes, that horrid thing. Fun is wasted on those without obligation.”
My brow furrows. “I’ve said that very thing before, I think.”
“That’s exactly why I chose you for our project group,” he says, clinking his glass to mine. We both sip, but I giggle.
“I choseyou, remember.”
“And please don’t forget that when you see me get tipsy. I have a tendency to spill stupid facts about things no one cares about.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you? I’d kind of like to hear it.”
“No. Trust me, no one does.” He smirks until I giggle some more.
“Planning to get drunk with me here?”
“Unless you want to get drunk somewhere else?”
Immediately, my mind goes to scenes with him above me, under me, sheets tangled, breaths caressing skin… I get heated all over. “Here is great.”
He nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile. “Besides, they have amazing cheese fries.”
“They do! That’s what I get when I get to come here.”
“You don’t get much free time, huh?”
Glancing around at the other students, those who don’t wear Greek letters on their sweaters, a moment of sadness settles over me. “Not really.”
His pinky brushes against the back of my hand for a moment, and I clear my throat, not wanting to dwell on poor little rich girl problems.
“Why did you agree tojoinmy little group?” I change the subject.
