Please Me

Thirteen: What I Want

Hehe...

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"Elizabeth," the man behind the door says to me startled.

What the actual fuck?

I stand there in frozen silence for what feels like an eternity, neither of us saying anything. My eyes dart between him and her...him and her...him and HER!

It's as if it just now hit me...THERE'S A FUCKING WOMAN IN HIS OFFICE!

I mean, of course there is. I don't control him. I don't even think I have the right to be mad. But I am...I'm livid.

She's the typical blonde, big boobs, and perfect white smile. Who wouldn't want to fuck her?

"Elizabeth, it's--"

"I'm--I'm so sorry for interrupting," I cut Professor Dickhead off. "I'll just be going now."

I turn back around in a rush and swing open the door. "Wait, El--" he tries to stop me but I don't bother to listen. I was seeing red. RED.

But why? It's not like we're a couple or anything. It's not as if what we were about to do was anything more than a mere fling.

Wait...oh my god...I was about to have sex with Professor Dickhead!

A water substance starts to could my vision. It streams down my face and onto my lips--tasting a bit slaty. The water substance was tears. I was crying over the fucking prick. Why the hell would I be crying? I don't care that much. In fact, I'll record their fucking sex tape if they want.

Yeah, you're definitely not okay.

Shut up!

"Elizabeth, wait!" someone calls out from behind me as they grab my shoulder to turn me around. I don't need to turn around to figure out who that accented voice belongs to.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I shout a little bit to loud at him as I turn around, but the blaring music going on in the background seems to smother it's abruptness. His expression makes it seem that he's surprised that I raised my voice. But what does he expect?

"It's not what It looks like, okay? You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself," he argues and I scoff before crossing my arms over my chest.

"What a classic response," I say with a huff. We stare at each other as the music booms around us in the crowded club. I'm embarrassed at the fact that he can see the tears on my face. I'm more embarrassed that I even let them fall at all. But I don't think I was truly crying out of sadness. I think I was more crying out of frustration.

"I can't believe I was actually going to give into you," I finally say after a few dreadful beats. "And no, Alex, I didn't give you a chance to explain yourself, because quite frankly, I really don't care. All I care about is getting away from you."

Without hesitation, I turn around and dispart away from him and into the crowd. I was overflowing with so many emotions at the moment. Anger, frustration, confusion, jealousy...and just pure, pure warmth. I felt as if I was going to explode at any moment. So, what better way to set yourself free than by dancing?

I unzip my zip-up hoodie, exposing my tank top that's underneaths before running my hands through my hair. My head tilts itself back and my fingertips glide down across my neck as I let the music and the beat overtake me.

The flashing, colorful lights play out around me as I sway my body along with the rhythm. Everything feels as if it's in slow motion as I lose myself in the crowd, in the song, in my body. I dance with random strangers as they invite me in--some grinding some screaming along to the words as our bodies begin to collect sweat from all the activity that we're doing.