quiet room.
He sets me carefully on the sky blue bench seat. Vaguely, I wonder what has spilled on this seat. I shudder and tug at my skirt. I just flashed the whole bar a view of my panties.
Good thing I wore the cute black lace.
"What are you doing here?" Peter asks, his voice tight and low.
I jerk. He sounds almost angry, and it pisses me off. "I'm out with friends. Not that it's any of your fucking business."
He scoffs, "Accrocher isn't a friend, he's a douchebag. You shouldn't hang out with him."
I splutter and jerk to my feet. "I don't know you. I've made it clear I don't want to know you. Who the hell do you think you are, to tell me who I should or shouldn't be friends with?"
He steps into me, green eyes glittering. "But I want to know you."
I shake my head. "No. It's a bad idea."
"Tell me why. If you can tell me why we can't be friends—why you ignore me and run from me, why you would rather be with that asshole—I'll leave you alone. I won't bother you again. But it needs to be something real, Gwen. Not a bullshit reason."
It occurs to me that he has no right to demand an explanation. I don't owe Peter anything. Except that he's staring at me, with the face the Boy could have had.
Even knowing he was a delusion, I can't throw away the feeling that I owe him something.
"Fine. After class on Wednesday," I say. His eyes brighten, and he nods. I move to step past him, to return to the dance floor.
His arms come around my waist, snagging me to him when I try to step past. I come up against his chest and struggle to keep myself from doing anything stupid. Like melting against him. His arms are like steel bands around me, holding me secure to him.
I haven't felt this safe in years, but it's not real. "I won't stop, you know," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I shiver, and he smiles, a mischievous grin that begs me to join him in the fun. "You promised."
Something shutters in his gaze. "People break promises all the time, Gwen."
The door behind us bangs open, and Peter releases me immediately. Orchid stalks to my side. She's wearing a brilliant orange top and a skirt almost smaller than mine. With her ink black hair and pale skin, she's an exotic, gorgeous, and spitting mad.
Peter's eyes go wide at the sight of her.
“Who the hell are you?” she spits, “and why the fuck are you dragging my roommate around like a caveman?”
Behind her, James coughs, covering a laugh. She shoots him a fierce glare, and the man goes quiet—either intelligence or self-preservation.
"Gwendolyn is free to go when she wishes," Peter says stiffly. His gaze flicks between us.
"Is this the guy?" Orchid demands. "The one from Lit?"
I flush, hating that he knows I've mentioned him to my roommate.
Her scowl, if anything, becomes more severe. "Leave her the hell alone."
"I will, if that is what the lady wishes."
That draws Orchid up sharply. I know why--it's so strangely worded. Who the hell talks like that?
"Let's go, Gwen," Orchid says, and I follow her. I can't stay in this too small room any longer. I glance back at Peter before James nudges me out the door. My heart twists.
He looks like a memory, hurt and lonely as I turn away from him.
We don't stay long after that. Rather, I don't. I call a cab and catch a ride back to campus. Orchid and James stayed. She was furious, spitting curses and chasing away every random guy that approached me. It was exhausting to watch, and I could feel Peter's gaze on me as I tried to dance. It didn't make for a relaxing evening, and the crowd was making me anxious, so I didn't even bother to pretend to enjoy it. I made my apologies and cut out.
Why did I agree to meet with him? It's a bad idea. Already, I'm trying to figure out how to get out of the meeting. How I can gracefully decline. Except, if it gets him to back off—even temporarily—isn't it worth the discomfort of one meeting?
In the quiet of my room, I strip out of the corset dress and slip into one of
He sets me carefully on the sky blue bench seat. Vaguely, I wonder what has spilled on this seat. I shudder and tug at my skirt. I just flashed the whole bar a view of my panties.
Good thing I wore the cute black lace.
"What are you doing here?" Peter asks, his voice tight and low.
I jerk. He sounds almost angry, and it pisses me off. "I'm out with friends. Not that it's any of your fucking business."
He scoffs, "Accrocher isn't a friend, he's a douchebag. You shouldn't hang out with him."
I splutter and jerk to my feet. "I don't know you. I've made it clear I don't want to know you. Who the hell do you think you are, to tell me who I should or shouldn't be friends with?"
He steps into me, green eyes glittering. "But I want to know you."
I shake my head. "No. It's a bad idea."
"Tell me why. If you can tell me why we can't be friends—why you ignore me and run from me, why you would rather be with that asshole—I'll leave you alone. I won't bother you again. But it needs to be something real, Gwen. Not a bullshit reason."
It occurs to me that he has no right to demand an explanation. I don't owe Peter anything. Except that he's staring at me, with the face the Boy could have had.
Even knowing he was a delusion, I can't throw away the feeling that I owe him something.
"Fine. After class on Wednesday," I say. His eyes brighten, and he nods. I move to step past him, to return to the dance floor.
His arms come around my waist, snagging me to him when I try to step past. I come up against his chest and struggle to keep myself from doing anything stupid. Like melting against him. His arms are like steel bands around me, holding me secure to him.
I haven't felt this safe in years, but it's not real. "I won't stop, you know," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I shiver, and he smiles, a mischievous grin that begs me to join him in the fun. "You promised."
Something shutters in his gaze. "People break promises all the time, Gwen."
The door behind us bangs open, and Peter releases me immediately. Orchid stalks to my side. She's wearing a brilliant orange top and a skirt almost smaller than mine. With her ink black hair and pale skin, she's an exotic, gorgeous, and spitting mad.
Peter's eyes go wide at the sight of her.
“Who the hell are you?” she spits, “and why the fuck are you dragging my roommate around like a caveman?”
Behind her, James coughs, covering a laugh. She shoots him a fierce glare, and the man goes quiet—either intelligence or self-preservation.
"Gwendolyn is free to go when she wishes," Peter says stiffly. His gaze flicks between us.
"Is this the guy?" Orchid demands. "The one from Lit?"
I flush, hating that he knows I've mentioned him to my roommate.
Her scowl, if anything, becomes more severe. "Leave her the hell alone."
"I will, if that is what the lady wishes."
That draws Orchid up sharply. I know why--it's so strangely worded. Who the hell talks like that?
"Let's go, Gwen," Orchid says, and I follow her. I can't stay in this too small room any longer. I glance back at Peter before James nudges me out the door. My heart twists.
He looks like a memory, hurt and lonely as I turn away from him.
We don't stay long after that. Rather, I don't. I call a cab and catch a ride back to campus. Orchid and James stayed. She was furious, spitting curses and chasing away every random guy that approached me. It was exhausting to watch, and I could feel Peter's gaze on me as I tried to dance. It didn't make for a relaxing evening, and the crowd was making me anxious, so I didn't even bother to pretend to enjoy it. I made my apologies and cut out.
Why did I agree to meet with him? It's a bad idea. Already, I'm trying to figure out how to get out of the meeting. How I can gracefully decline. Except, if it gets him to back off—even temporarily—isn't it worth the discomfort of one meeting?
In the quiet of my room, I strip out of the corset dress and slip into one of
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