Ecstasy

Eli is insane. Alex hasn’t hurt me. Not anymore than I’ve hurt him.

I don’t know what he thinks he came here for, but we can’t. This isn’t right. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m not—"

“Has he ever once really seen you, Zara?”

“What—”

“Because I have,” he interrupts me, bringing his mouth closer to mine. I can feel his words when he speaks, smell the way his breath is like cotton candy, tempting me with his sweetness. But he isn’t sweet, and clearly, he’s crazy. I don’t know what he’s talking about. “I’ve seen you,” he continues. “I know who you really are.”

He leans in closer, his lips touching mine.

I stiffen in his arms. No, no, no.

I don’t say it, though. I don’t say it.

“Remember that night you two fought about his dad? About how Pastor Cardi didn’t want you to see his son anymore?”

We fought about that all the time. Alex wanted me to act more respectable, and dress “modestly” for his games. He wanted me to “stop fucking doing drugs” so his father might actually accept me.

It was a constant source of tension, among other things.

But I know. I know which night Eli is talking about. I know, and it makes my heart skip a beat, my stomach flipping.

He trails his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, ru

He knows.

“Because I do,” he tells me. “I know.”

I didn’t think anyone else was home. I thought Eli was with his dad or out or…

Shame makes my stomach churn.

But he doesn’t let me feel it. He doesn’t let me feel it for more than one second before he licks along the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips.

Let him in.

He groans against me, as if he’s been waiting for this for a long time.

How long? I want to ask him. How long have you been waiting for me? All this time? Six whole fucking months? Why did you never say anything?

But I don’t get a chance to ask anything.

He breaks away, leaving me breathless, then lifts the hem of my tank top. I raise my arms up as he pulls it off over my head and drops it on the floor. He bends his head down, dropping his mouth on my nipple, his hands trailing down my waist.

“I’ve fucking seen these all week,” he says, speaking against my skin. I grab the counter to keep myself upright, gasping. “I’ve fucking seen these in so many fucking videos. Alex’s hands all over you.” He licks a line across my chest, taking my other nipple in his mouth as I throw my head back, closing my eyes, reveling in the way he shoves his hands down my shorts.

“Did you like it?” I ask him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he picks me up and sets me on the counter, swiping his hand over the shot glasses and the bottle of tequila, sending it all crashing to the floor.

He parts my knees, his fingers ru

How long? Has he just been waiting for us to break up?

“Shut up,” he tells me instead of answering my question. He hooks his fingers through the waistband of my hot pink panties, and I throw my arms around his neck and raise up, letting him pull the material down, past my knees, past my bare feet and dropping them on the floor.

He steps back, and I reluctantly let go of him, my hands coming to the cool counter as he assesses me, his eyes raking up and down my naked body.

Maybe he wants to stop. Maybe he realizes this is bad. This is bad. We can’t do this. We can’t.

“We can’t do this,” I blurt out as he stares at me. “I don’t know why you’re even here, but we can’t do this, Eli.” I cross my arms over my chest, cross my legs, too. “You need to leave.”

“You know, Zara, it’s not a good look. Being with someone that treats you like shit.” He steps closer, reaching out his hand, and I flinch but he just brushes his thumb across my hip. The scar he saw me leave there.

My face feels hot, my chest, too.

“That doesn’t notice where you really hurt.”

I don’t know what to say. I can only stare at him. But then he takes a step back and for one wild moment, I want to grab him, beg him to stay. I don’t want to be alone.

But I don’t beg.

And I don’t fuck my ex’s best friends.

“I have to go to practice.” He glances at the clock on the stove behind me. “What are you doing tonight?”

I scoff, and even though I don’t want to say it, I still do. “Nothing with you.”

He stares at me a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugs. “All right.” He steps toward the door, then stops, his back to me. My heart soars, wondering stupidly if he’ll stay. If we’ll actually do this after all.

But all he says is, “Those scars are beautiful, baby girl.”

And without another word, without an explanation, he just walks out, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me naked and alone in my kitchen.

I glance down at my thighs.

I look over the pale white lines in the thickest part of my skin.

He saw them.

He saw them.