Page 24 of Fall From Grace
A frat party. Don’t know if I want to go to a frat party, but then again, I didn’t really want to go to the club either. Doing something like that, much like what I did at the club, would probably be a mistake I’d only regret, but at this point…
At this point, it’s clear what I was doing before didn’t work. Being good in all aspects of my life? It got me nowhere. Logan’s personality aside, I did have fun. The orgasms were nice. I’d be lying if I say I haven’t thought about it this past week.
Maybe Sloane is right. Maybe I need to let loose a little. Live it up. I’m in college, for goodness sake. It’s time to have some fun, enjoy being young before the responsibilities of adulthood turn me into a depressed, cynical woman waiting for the end of the world to finally hit.
She must detect my thoughts, because Sloane gives me the widest smile ever. “Don’t worry, girl. Leave it to me. I’ll pull you out of your shell.”
Chapter Twelve – Logan
Wednesday night I stand in the room where I keep my guitars. I stare hard at them. Ever since Wren brought it up earlier, I’ve been in a bad mood. I’ve been pissy. She has no idea the wound she poked at; she didn’t even know it’s a wound to begin with. Now she knows it’s a sore subject for me.
Keeping my cool is impossible when guitars and everything else is a reminder of what I had, what I used to be, what I fucking lost. I’m no one now, and that fact was only rubbed in my face when Wren asked that innocent question:you play?
Do I play? That’s like asking if I can fucking sing. Of course I can fucking play, just like I can fucking sing.
Damn it.
In an effort to cool myself down, I hit up the nearest bar that night, try to drown my sorrows in booze while picking up a girl or two. I flirt heavily with a skinny girl with long, thick red hair for hours. I buy her a few drinks, and soon enough we’re in the alley next to the bar, making out.
It’s messy, which is familiar to me. I’m used to it. Her name is… Holly? Molly? Whatever, it doesn’t even matter. It’s messy, because I’m a fucking mess. I’ve always been a mess. It’s always been easy for me to launch myself off the deep end, to take a dive and barely come up for air. I’m used to damn near killing myself with my lifestyle.
Her tongue is in my mouth when her hands sloppily fiddle with my pants. I’m semi-hard; not as hard as I should be, but I can get there. I can… I can fucking get there.
She pulls her mouth off mine, and I open my eyes to watch her fall to her knees. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl has given me head in a dark alley, but it is the first time I’m not fully inthe moment. I’m here, but at the same time, I’m not. It fucking sucks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see someone cross the sidewalk, but when I turn my head I don’t see anybody.
My pants are undone, and she’s seconds from pulling out my dick when I stumble backward, away from her, which causes her to look up at me with a hazy, confused expression. My voice comes out gruff, “I…” Fuck. I want to keep this going. I want to see how far I can take things with this girl, but for some reason my mouth disagrees. “I gotta go.”
I give her my back and start to walk away from her, swaying only a little, and I don’t stop when I hear her call out, “What the fuck? Are you serious?”
Unfortunately for us both, I’m dead fucking serious. I just don’t know why.
I never turn down a good time. I’m always up for it. Hell, the only one who could keep up with me in Black Sacrament was Priest—I can’t even count how many times we shared a group of girls. It was the life. It was just what we did. It was a part of being rockstars.
And now I’m nothing, and I can’t fucking forget it, no matter what I do.
My pants are fixed, and once I’m out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, I glance both ways, figuring I’d see whoever it was I saw out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t see anyone. No one that sticks out like a sore thumb, anyway. Nobody that’s openly leering.
Behind me, the girl comes out of the alleyway, bristling as she walks past: “Fucking asshole.” She returns to the bar—after pointedly giving me a harsh glare.
Fucking asshole. Yeah. That’s what I am. It’s what I always was and always will be. This feeling, though… I don’t know what it is or why it’s nagging me so hardcore. Ever since Wren askedif I play. No, ever since I took her home, things have been weird for me, and I just don’t know why.
Fuck.
I walk home. The perk of living off-campus means I’m close to the nightlife, to all the clubs and bars. Tonight was supposed to be a night where I drowned my sorrows, a drinking night, so I walked, even if it meant walking home would be the opposite of fun.
And I was right. This is the opposite of fun. I’m not nearly as drunk as I should be, and my dick should be deep inside that girl’s throat.
I blame Wren. I blame Wren for all of it.
Maybe coming to MSU was a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t ready to have a normal life. Maybe a part of me still clung to what I used to be, what I used to have… maybe that part of me will never let it go, and I’ll always feel like this.
Shit. That’s depressing.
During the walk, I can’t help but feel out of place, like someone’s watching me and laughing. I glance over my shoulder quite a few times, but I never see anyone. It must all be in my imagination or something. Not sure what that says about me. Paranoia is a hell of a thing.
I make it home, and I stumble up the stairs. I throw myself onto my bed, face-first, and will sleep to come to me. My head is a little foggy, the world around me spins a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. What’s giving me a run for my money is the fucking feeling of not being good enough. The feeling of deep-seated loss. It’s like my soul was cleaved in half when I was told I could no longer be Pope.
