Page 204 of Sin With Me

“Whatever,” I mutter, moving to go back inside. But, again, his voice stops me.

“Be sure to wear headphones tonight, too,” he says, and my jaw tenses. “Unless you want to hear me fucking someone better.”

So, that’s how he wants to play it?

I grin as I look at him over my shoulder. He returns it, a teasing note to his expression. “Game on, big brother. Game. Fucking. On.”

Reverberations of the bass pulse through my body as I step into the house, shadows dancing along the walls. Chase or Oli must’ve brought lights because every corner is bathed in a kaleidoscope of color, breathing life into the often dim house. It’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time, like this isn’t the place I grew up.

A hard body runs into my back, and I stumble forward a step, grunting out a breath. Glaring over my shoulder, I find Roman grinning down at me. He leans closer, his voice low as he says, “What’s the matter, Goldie? Having second thoughts?”

I lift my middle finger before darting toward the kitchen, the sound of his deep laugh chasing me through the crowd.

If I’m going to do this, whatever this is, I need alcohol.

A lot of it.

“There she is!” Oli cries, holding a different bottle from earlier high in the air, her fist wrapped tightly around the neck. A chorus of cheers follow, all from people I don’t know. Chase pops up out of nowhere, a water bottle in his hand. “This is my best friend, y’all.” She stumbles toward me, her wig lopsided, but a wide grin on her face as she slings her free arm around my shoulders.

“Water, Oli,” Chase scolds, trying to grab the liquor from her. She holds it out of his reach, looking disgruntled.

“Leave me alone.” She stumbles more into me, her arm tightening to keep herself upright. “I’m fine, Chase.”

“Looks like it.” He gives a pointed glare at her drunken state.

“God, you’re so overbearing! Just let me be free!”

I laugh, reaching for the bottle in Oli’s hands. She grunts, sounding annoyed, but lets me take it. I press it to my lips and tip my head back, letting the harsh liquid burn its way down my throat. A battle cry leaves her, her fist punching into the air.

After that, alcohol flows freely and I lose track of how much I drink, of what I drink. All I know is at some point I end up in the middle of the living room, Oli by my side, dancing as the music courses through us.

My fingertips trace a path along the curves of my body, gliding up through my hair, caressing with deliberate, languid touches. The strands cascade down my back in a long, curly blonde waterfall. Head swiveling side to side, a grin unfurls, stamping itself onto my face, refusing to fall.

Freedom courses through my body with an electric charge so wild, I can almost forget who I am, where I am. It’s not like the freedom I feel when I cam, or when I’m racing down the street on my bike. It’s more than that.

It’s the true freedom only reckless rebelion can cause.

My wildly beating heart pulses with the aching need to hold onto this fleeting moment, to not let it slip through my fingers. In this moment, this sacred, too-loud, too-bright moment surrounded by strangers in a house that isn’t my home, I’m more than free. I’ve transcended who I was, and I’ve found who I was always meant to be.

And, for the first time in my life, I finally feel my true self: confident, vibrant, and utterly alive.

Scanning the party, I look for Roman, but it's hard to make out where he is with how blurry my vision has become. “I love this song!” Oli shouts over the music, and I laugh.

“You don’t even know what it is,” I call back, and she shrugs, bringing the bottle to her lips. My head falls back, a bright laugh leaving me as my eyes close. Body still swaying to the music, I let myself fall into the rhythm, into the united heartbeat of the crowd around me.

But then I look around again, wanting to find the one person who will stand out amongst everyone. He shouldn’t, he’s nothing more than a dark smudge on the vibrant world around me, but my heart sinks when he’s nowhere to be found. I almost lose hope and let the music overtake me again, but then I find him, and my stomach drops.

A bleach-blonde woman with a barely-there red sparkly dress stands in front of him, the straps on her shoulders so thin, I wonder how the fabric hasn’t fallen to her feet yet. His face is close to hers as they have a hushed conversation, only loud enough for them to hear.

He was serious about fucking someone tonight?

Betrayal fills me. It was supposed to be a game, a stupid thing we said to each other that had no merit to it. But here he is, talking to some woman—and Jesus, she’s pretty. Pretty in the plastic kind of way, but still, I envy the way her dress clings to her curves, the way her silky hair falls down her back. She’s probably one of Chase’s influencer friends.

The thought clangs through me before self-consciousness settles in.

Is that what he likes?

He always dated the prettiest, most model-worthy girls when he was in school. And why wouldn’t he when he looks like that? But it’s been years, and his type hasn’t changed. If anything, as he’s gotten hotter, so have the women he fucks.

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