Left Drowning

“Sabin’s a good guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Chris agrees. “He is. He’s incredible.”

I keep my eyes on the stage. “You are, too.” Tequila is making me brazen with the truth.

Before I have a chance to regret my words, Estelle rescues me. “That’s your brother, not mine! And, hey, where’s my lime?”

Chris cuts another wedge, this time using the wall instead of going down on bended knee. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he says affectionately.

Estelle takes the bottle with one hand and smoothes down her still-perfect hair while she catches her breath from her rushed climb back up the ladder. “Too much to list. But look at him. He’s awesome.” The shot of tequila makes her wince as much as it did Chris and me. “Jesus, this is bad booze. No lime could save us.” She takes a spot next to us, and we stand silently watching as Sabin continues his onstage reign. She rubs the cross that hangs around her neck. “I wish Eric had stayed.”

“Me, too.” Chris rubs her back briefly. “He’s with Zach. He’s fine.”

“I know. I just wish he’d hang with us more. Anyway, Blythe, I’m glad you came out. Drink what you want, guys, and then let’s go down. Sabin has a spot for us by the stage. I think we’re in for a long night.”

CHAPTER TEN The Course of An Eternity

Chris holds open the door to our dorm. “After you, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” I walk by him into the dimly lit entryway. As much fun as I’ve had tonight, I’m glad to be back here. The crowd, the music, the noise, the social interaction… . It has all been a lot for me, and I’m ready to decompress. The noise from the speakers by the stage has left a good ringing in my ears, and my voice is raw from having to yell over the music. I feel grateful, though, that Sabin was my home base tonight. He let me come back to him as often as I needed to ground myself. When the noise was too much or the social interaction felt overwhelming, he remained my rock. Chris? Chris was more of my risk. Gravitating to him took more bravery because he could see that the evening was more than I could handle. He must have asked me fifty times if I was all right and if I was having fun. He seems to know me—and knows what to worry about—more than he should. Maybe that was why he’d offered to walk me back after Sabin ran into Chrystle, and Estelle took off with her giant purse after getting a text.

Chris and I pause after stepping into the dorm, knowing it’s time to part ways. I’m tired, but I’m not ready to leave him. At least I am clearheaded since we abandoned that vile tequila on the top of the architecture building hours before. I know that I won’t do anything horrifying like throw myself at him. Despite the massive appeal that holds right now.

The staircase to the right leads up to my room, and the one on the left leads down to his. “So, I’ll see you around. Thanks for tonight. It was really fun to see Sabin onstage.” A quick exit is probably smart, so I start up the stairs.

“Hey, Blythe?“

“Yeah?”

“Where do you think Estelle was going? When she got that text, she sort of took off fast.”

I laugh. “Honestly? As her brother, you may not want to know what I think.”

“What? Do you think … ” Chris wrinkles his brow. “Oh no. Really? You think she had a date?”

“Define date. But yes, I do.”

He shivers. “Yuck. But she’s all … religiousy and shit. I was hoping that she was morally opposed to … stuff.”

I try not to smile. “Stuff?” It’s fu

“I’m not phrasing it any other way.”

“Understood.”

We linger for a moment by the first floor landing. Why are good-nights always so uncomfortable?

Some late partiers, loud and clearly drunk, stumble through the front door and stagger up the stairs. I finally walk up the first few steps. “It’s really late, I guess.” I tuck my hands in my back pockets and do what I can to appear casual. “Good night, Christopher.”

“Good night, Blythe.”

I feel a certain pride in making it back to my room without giving in to the urge to turn around and shove my tongue down his throat. It’s a positive in an otherwise frustrating situation. The main thing here is that Chris seems to like me well enough as a friend, and having him in my life in any capacity is better than not having him. Plus, it’s only because of him and his siblings that I went out tonight with a group of people—a pretty monumental event for me. And it was fun. Truly, honestly fun. All in all, I can’t complain.

The light of the moon through my window is bright enough that I don’t crash into anything, and I welcome the quiet of my room. I strip down to my underwear and throw on my black cotton robe. It’s two in the morning, and I should be exhausted, but I’m not. I walk aimlessly around my room, remaking my futon and tidying the untouched single bed that used to belong to my roommate. There is some laundry that I could put away and a book I’ve been wanting to read…

Awake and restless, I stand unmoving in the center of my room. I don’t want to clean, and I don’t want to read. This night should not be over, and I am hyperaware of missing Chris. He has infiltrated my entire core in a way that I ca

And then there is a knock. It has a hesitant, questioning rhythm. It shouldn’t.

Without saying anything, I open the door, and he is there.

Chris steps into me and kicks the door shut behind him. The second it slams, his hands are tight on my hips, and he moves in. Turning me around, he is behind me, pulling me against him hard and crushing his chest into my back. I gasp as he moves his hands roughly over my waist, my stomach, his breath hot in my ear when he pushes the fabric of my robe aside. Going up the back of my thigh, the palm of his hand eases steadily and confidently higher until he has my ass in his hand. Over and over, he strokes me up and down in a sultry rhythm. Chris slides my robe off one shoulder and brushes my hair to the side with his other hand. The feel of his lips on my neck and the top of my shoulder is heaven. When the grip he has on my ass tightens so much that it begins to hurt beautifully for only a fraction of a second, he stops and slowly slips his fingers under the back of my underwear. Over the course of an eternity, he runs his touch just under the edge of the fabric.

I force myself not to grab his hands and move them immediately where I want, but it’s torture. How can I get through this? But I don’t want him to stop, so I let him set the pace. When he’s traced his way to the front, I lean my head back into his chest, willing this to never end. His hand moves from my hair, across my collarbone, down my chest, and then slips under the top of my robe. Now he is brushing my breast ever so teasingly, and I am convinced that I have hit my tolerance for standing up straight. My knees are beyond weak, and with the way my legs are starting to shake, I’m not sure how long I can stay like this in the face of so much pleasure.

Chris’s voice is a low whisper in my ear. “I want to hear you come. I need to hear you come.”

I tremble and turn around into his arms. Chris backs me up until I am pressed against the door to my room. The way he kisses me with such raw sexual heat just about makes me lose my mind. He takes my hands in his and raises them above my head, pi