Hold You Against Me (7 page)

And now we’re safe to be with whomever we want.

Except the only boy I want is the one who died to save us.

*     *     *

The light drizzle
from earlier has turned into a hot summer shower, so we order an Uber and wait under the overhang until it pulls up. The art department uses the older buildings in the university, without the glass and smooth granite bricks of the engineering building. Of course it’s a campus joke because the art department doesn’t have much money or resources. But I actually like the crumbling old buildings, the feeling of history, of being a part of something bigger than myself. Maybe that’s because most of the time I feel so small.

My loft is a one-bedroom apartment just off campus, as ancient as those old buildings. Honor wasn’t thrilled about me moving out, but it was just too stifling knowing she worried about me every time I came home late. So I moved here last semester with the promise that I visit at least once a week for Sunday night dinner.

We get to Party Row when Saturday night is in full swing, flashing neon signs advertising clubs and tattoo parlors and thinly veiled illegal pursuits. The car stops at the end of the street, where barricades are set up and a couple of rent-a-cops flirt with a group of college coeds.

Drunk guys and girls move from bar to bar, in the street. There are some old folks who come out, a shirtless guy in a rainbow Speedo, a man in a cowboy hat shouting at people who walk by. A couple of people have pamphlets that promise to save our souls.

Pretty much a regular Saturday night.

Amy and I hit the sidewalk and head toward the opposite end of the street where the newer, shadier clubs open up. Of course that’s where Club X would be.

“Hey, girls, let me show you a good time,” a guy yells to us from across the street.

His friend laughs at him. “You fucking wish.”

Amy rolls her eyes but puts a little sway in her step for him. As much as she gives me a hard time about Shane, she enjoys the occasional drunk frat boy.
They have their purposes,
she says mysteriously. She means sex, and usually I nod along as if I know what that’s about—even though she knows I don’t.

We get catcalled all the way to Club X, where the line is halfway around the block.

“Not waiting,” Amy says. “Tell your boyfriend to come get us.”

Shane has a way of getting what he wants. Most of the time people just have to look at him. Something about him screams privilege, and they instinctively defer to that. But if that doesn’t work, he doesn’t mind slipping a couple twenties to get his point across.

Except if he has to leave his friends, he’s going to be grumpy.

“Come on,” I say, taking Amy’s hand.

I lead her up to the bouncer and give him my best smile. I don’t bother trying to be seductive, since I have exactly no clue how to do that. That’s Amy’s job. And besides, I have a decent track record with my innocent look. Maybe they think I got lost on my way to the library?

The bouncer gives me a once-over. He’s built and really pretty hot in a tight-black T-shirt. Occasionally they get upperclassmen for this job, but this guy looks a couple years older—and definitely unimpressed with the college-girl tricks. “Back of the line.”

“Please. My boyfriend is inside.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Tell him to come get you.”

“His phone’s dead.” The lie comes easily. “But he’s expecting me to meet him. He’ll be mad if I show up late.”

One eyebrow rises. “And that’s supposed to convince me to let you in? Girls shouldn’t be afraid of their boyfriends.”

The words resonate inside me, a blow that echoes through every tense moment with Shane, through every moment of my childhood—where I learned that men are best obeyed if I don’t want to be hurt. “I’m not afraid,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow.

The bouncer doesn’t appear convinced.

I’m saved from his dubious expression when Amy steps closer. The dewdrop choker she’s wearing emphasizes the expanse of bare skin the silver dress exposes. Her shoulders are slender, her breasts small. The bouncer’s lids lower in appreciation. They seem an unlikely match, the heavily muscled, tattooed bouncer and the pixie-sized good girl, but that’s what Amy wants. She comes from doctors and investors and engineers, each with their own set of impressive credentials and awards and hefty bank accounts. Her art major and the rough-looking bouncer amount to the same for her. Freedom.

Oh, and I can understand that. That’s what I’ve wanted my whole life, except now that I have it, I still feel tied down. Constrained by the expectations of my sister, my boyfriend. Unable to let go of the past.

Amy whispers something in the bouncer’s ear, and even though he hasn’t officially let me in, I scoot past him. She’ll keep him occupied for a while at least, and if she’s lucky, he’ll occupy her right back.

T
he crowd has
already heated up, moving as one large ocean, liquid heat filling the dance floor. I slide between bodies and duck waving arms toward the back of the club, where sofas and chairs are haphazardly arranged. There isn’t much seating in clubs like these, so usually people claim them fast. It doesn’t matter when Shane shows up, though. He can clear the best seats with a few crisp bills or even a smile.

That’s where I find him, holding court with one of his friends and several girls.

Two of the girls are chatting with Rick, a guy I’ve always found a little creepy. The other girl leans against Shane while he looks down her dress.

As I watch, he brushes his hand up her arm.

When I reach the table, Shane looks up. Guilt flashes in his eyes, and he gives the girl a shove that I find more disturbing than his flirting. She wobbles on her high heels before shooting me a venomous glance.

“Babe,” Shane yells over the heavy thump of music. “I thought you’d never make it. Get your pretty ass over here.”

Part of me wonders what would have happened if I hadn’t joined him tonight. Would he have kissed that girl? Would he have had sex with her? What bothers me most is how little that worries me. I know there’s something toxic in our relationship, but toxic is all I know.

He grabs my wrist. Then the world is tilting sideways as he drags me onto his lap. I let out a small squeak before settling on his thighs. This close, I can smell the sweat on him, the faint musk of grass from the field. It’s not unpleasant, exactly. It’s just a little too intimate for comfort.

As is the erection pressing into my ass. I squirm to get back on solid ground.

He wraps his arm around my waist like an iron bar on a roller coaster. “Where you going, babe?”

“Yeah,
babe,
” Rick says, smirking. Everything dumb and dangerous that Shane has done while we’ve been together has been with Rick at his side. Bad influence doesn’t begin to cover it, but it’s not my place to tell Shane who his friends should be.

“Please don’t call me that.”

I know better than to challenge him, and sure enough, his lips widen. It’s not a nice smile, especially when you factor in the calculation in his eyes. “Your girl needs to lighten up,” he says, his gaze trained on mine.

“Yeah,” Shane says, voice low. He’s too busy feeling me up to realize we are wading into danger. He has one hand groping my ass, the other playing with the neckline of my dress.

“Stop,” I whisper, but of course he doesn’t hear me. It’s way too loud for that. I scan the crowd, hoping Amy will magically appear. Maybe that’s cowardly of me, but I just want this night to end without a fight.

As if Rick reads my mind, he asks, “Where’s the smurfette?”

He calls her that because her hair was blue when they first met. Since then it’s been pink, purple, teal, and every color under the rainbow.

“I don’t know,” I say because I don’t really. She might be at the front of the club, flirting with the bouncer. Or he might have taken a break and found some empty office for them to make out. Either way, I’m not sending Rick in their direction.

His eyes narrow. “I know she came with you.”

Crap. “She went to the bathroom.”

Rage flashes over his face—he doesn’t like being lied to, but most of all, he hates that Amy isn’t interested in him. She likes to rebel, but she’s not stupid.

Shane grows bold enough to push his hand inside my dress and stroke my breast.

My whole body goes stiff. I grab his wrist. “Stop.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his face buried in my hair. He’s hard as a rock underneath me, almost rolling his hips into me. This is bad. He’s too far gone to say no right now, and if we were doing this at my apartment, I might have to go along with it. But we’re not in my apartment. We’re in the back of the club. As much as I’m trained to avoid conflict, I can’t let him undress me in public.

“Shane, I mean it. Stop that.”

“Why should he stop?” Rick says, his voice taunting. “It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, right?”

Oh no, this is bad. I figured Shane wouldn’t tell anyone that we haven’t had sex yet. It might make people question his virility. Maybe it sounds weird, but I’m fine with everyone assuming I’ve put out even if I haven’t. Except the way Rick’s eyes have lit up, he must know we haven’t.

Shane’s body tenses, his fingers tightening on my ass and on my breast. “Shut the fuck up.”

Maybe I should be glad my boyfriend is finally sticking up for me, even though I know it’s more about himself. But my conditioning kicks in. I stroke his arm, trying to soothe. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s get out of here. Let’s just go.”

He’s still taut with anger, with frustration. “Why do you fucking do this to me?” he says, bitter and sharp. For a moment I think he knows how toxic we are together.

I think he hates it too.

“Too fucking uptight to spread your legs,” he adds, and my hope withers.

“We’ll go back to my place,” I say, placating. This feels like a pot boiling over, and I’m desperate to remove the heat. So what if I have to sleep with my boyfriend to do it. Girls do that all the time. At least that’s what I tell myself.

He rocks his erection into me, and I know it’s working.

I close my eyes for a moment. This is how it will be, the throbbing rhythm, the darkness. With my eyes closed I can pretend he’s someone else. Best of all, I can pretend I’m someone else.

“You’ve waited this long, man,” Rick says, breaking into my fantasy. “Why stop now?”

I feel the heat go up a couple of degrees. “Let’s go,” I say, pleading.

“You got some magic pussy, is that it? Some fucking unicorn tits under that dress? Because I’ve seen my share of tits. Not sure why you’re hiding yours like they’re something special.”

Shane shoves off his chair, and I tumble off his lap. The ground hits my knees hard, my palms harder. I shudder out a breath. God, this is messed up. And I don’t even care. I don’t want a great relationship with a nice boy. I don’t want Shane either. But I can’t have what I want, so this is where I end up, on my hands and knees in a dirty club.

I turn in time to see Shane haul Rick out of his chair.

Rick is either too drunk or too stupid to care. He laughs, loud and cocky. “Her sister is a fucking stripper. And your girl won’t even let you touch her.”

Oh, that’s too damn far. I’ll do almost anything to avoid confrontation, but I draw the line where my sister is concerned. She’s not a stripper—not anymore—and when she was, she did it to protect me.

I don’t get a chance to defend her honor, though, because Shane tackles him. They fly into the table behind us, knocking it over. People scatter, forming a circle to lock us in. Making this into a circus act.

My stomach turns over, and I push myself unsteadily to my feet. People don’t move out of the way for me like they did for Shane and Rick, but I shove myself between them, blind, sick, heading sideways until I see red lights that spell
EXIT
.

Humid air wraps its fingers around my throat. The rain seems to have stopped, leaving every surface glittering. I lean against the damp brick wall, sucking in moist air that’s surprisingly fresh for an alley. My head falls back, and I stare up at a heavy blanket of dark clouds.

There are no stars. There are never any stars.

A harsh metal sound warns me that Shane’s not done with me tonight.

“Clara!” He barrels into the alley like he’s still spoiling for a fight. A bruise darkens the side of his face. And judging from the glint in his eyes, he blames me.

My heart leaps into my throat. “You’re scaring me.”

He pushes right into my face, hands flat against the brick on either side of me. His hot breath blows across my cheek. “You’ve been leading me around by my dick since we met.”

“That’s not true.” We met at a coffee cart outside the art building. He was in his third year, taking a basic art class to satisfy his business degree requirement. He was ahead of me in line after class, and when I stepped forward to order, I discovered he’d paid for my drink. After I got my coffee, he introduced himself, using the charming smile that made everyone fall in line—even me.

He took me to old movies at a local theater that served themed menus to match. And on Valentine’s Day he sent so many roses that my room had overflowed. He told me that he liked my innocence so much he didn’t mind waiting for me.

His eyes narrow. “I think you like this shit, giving me blue balls. Making us fight over you.”

“You weren’t fighting over me! Not like that. He was just being an ass.” I’m not sure when the anger started, the accusations. It feels like it came slowly, creeping up on me. By the time I realized how bad it had gotten, I was almost afraid to end things. How would he react?

Shane scoffs. “All my friends want to fuck you, and I’m tired of fucking lying.”

“So don’t. It looked like Rick knew anyway.”

“He figured it out, because I was—” He cuts off with a dark glare. “And now he won’t fucking shut up. I get it, you’re hard to get. Message received.”

My breath catches. “You think this is a game?”

“It is a game. You’re playing me, and I fucking played along. I waited for you longer than any other guy would have.”