Page 71 of Collide
Somehow, I feel both sober and completely drunk out of my mind. Never have I been this achingly desperate for the girl rubbing against me. It might be because Summer is the last person I expected to grind on me in the middle of a dance floor, although I’m assuming alcohol is playing a part.
When the dance floor gets crowded, I pull Summer away to a more secluded corner. I’m still holding onto her, both my hands resting on her waist and hers locked around my neck.
She fiddles with the collar of my shirt, half-lidded eyes gazing up at me. “What did you wish for?”
I can feel her beating heart, but I can’t tell if it matches my erratic one. “I can’t tell you.”
Summer frowns. “Why not?”
“Can’t risk it not coming true.” I touch the soft skin of her cheek. “You’re so pretty.”
She chuckles. “You’re so drunk.”
“You can thank Amara for that.”
She rests her head against the wall. “Everclear?”
I nod and move my hand higher on her cheek. Her eyes flutter with the contact, and so does my fucking heart. “I missed you.”
Her voice is quiet. “I saw you a few days ago.”
“Not like this. Not with these eyes that tell me you haven’t forgotten about my tongue on your pussy either.”
Her breath hitches.
“I feel like I can still taste you, Summer.” My words leak with desperation.
“Aiden…” I’m not sure if it's a warning but she swallows and the delicate column of her throat twitches. I palm her tight ass and I wish we were in my room and not down here, but I know if I suggest it, the haze around us will scatter. I need her so bad I can’t think straight, but that’s exactly why I can’t have her.
Summer pushes her hips against mine, clearly feeling the erection that’s been rock solid since I first saw her. My fingers skim the hem of her dress and I hold back my groan.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I say roughly against the shell of her ear. She lets me kiss her neck, and we’re dry humping against the wall when I slow our movements.
It’s at that exact moment that Dylan crashes into the speakers beside us, knocking them over. Summer jumps, and I pull away to help him off his ass, the screech from the speakers only resolving when I lift it back into place. From Dylan’s glossy eyes, I can tell he’s wasted. It’s one of those nights where he won’t get lectured for it, and he’s taking full advantage.
“I’m going to throw up.” Dylan gags as I haul him up.
I glance back at Summer, who watches us with wide eyes. “I’m going to take him to bed.” I say.
“Need help?” she asks. There is no way I’d let her care for a drunk Dylan. The shit that comes out of his mouth is too unpredictable. When I shake my head, she gives me a half smile, and before I drag away my blabbering friend, Summer says, “Happy birthday, Aiden. I hope your wish comes true.”
23 | SUMMER
I’D RATHER STAB Cupid with one of his pink arrows than go through this holiday again. Except saying that out loud would paint me as a bitter single loser, so I’m stewing safely in my thoughts. The pink heart cutouts decorating the table, which I’ve been ripping in half, leave a mess in my lap. This is not a good look.
“Did Cassie do something to her hair?”
My head swivels to Kian, who might as well have hearts for eyes as he watches Cassie perform.
Starlight karaoke lounge has been a regular place for Cassie when she has the urge to sing. Mostly, it’s a form of therapy after a messy breakup. I think she’s finally over her last situation, but all the Valentine’s lore thrown in our faces isn’t helping anyone.
That is why I was set on bingeing my comfort show with a heart-shaped pizza from Uncle Frank’s tonight. Except Kian Ishida showed up at my dorm and forced me to go out with him. Not to mention he made me change twice. He thinks wearing a sweat suit in public is a cardinal sin. I agreed only because his clean button-up and trousers made me look like a troll in comparison.
He’s using me as a buffer to not seem like a stalker, but I’m pretty sure Cassie knows about his infatuation. I’m not sure what happened between them, but I heard they snuck up to his room during Aiden’s birthday party.
“It looks lighter. Did she dye it?”
“I think she just curled it,” I say.
