He takes my mouth with his, a hand grazing my throat like a warm, rough necklace.
"Touch me," he breathes onto my lips.
My hands slip under his shirt, over his abdomen, his muscles tight and warm against my fingertips. I touch the places on him I'...
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7:44 PM
Ex-boyfriend. The label doesn't quite feel right, but it is, isn't it?
My heart clenches, a cocktail of guilt, shame, regret, and sadness washing over me. I clear my throat, fiddling with the ends of my dress.
"Hi, Brandon."
He just stares, those gray eyes that once sparkled for me now just hollow pits.
It's only been two weeks since the break-up, and he hasn't changed; still the long-ish, pale hair, the stubble I used to trace with my fingers.
"I tell you I love you, you fuck me, and then you break up with me."
His first words to me since at knives to the gut.
"I'm sorry," I say, the words barely a whisper. I reach for his hand and he lets me take it. Memories flood back—laughter, late movie nights, those silly little arguments over which popcorn brand pops best. Still, we weren't right. "I'm really, really sorry."
He looks at me and it's like I can see the shutters coming down over his heart. He scans me up and down, taking in my fluttering dress, my anxious stance. The heartbreak written all over his face is almost my undoing.
"You happy now, Ember?" His voice is rough, strained.
Before I can answer, we're joined by two guys I vaguely recognize from around town. Brandon's hand jerks away from mine as if burned.
Thomas Landry, with his wrestler's build, slaps Brandon on the back. Will Blithe, lean and dark-eyed, stands slightly apart.
I try to step back only to find the cold wall at my back, trapping me. A shiver runs down my spine as I twist the fabric of my dress between anxious fingers.
The three of them encircle me, Brandon in the center, his face unreadable. "I have to go," I manage to say, my voice small as I try to find a gap between Thomas and Brandon. Thomas smirks, shifting to block my path, forcing me back against the wall.
It feels like being in a bad dream. Like I'm back in Greyson's room with Steven's eyes on me, rendering me small, timid, and stupidly helpless. A mouse in a cage.
Thomas, looming closer, licks his lips as he eyes me head-to-toe. "Heard you gave our boy a real nice goodbye gift."
Will snickers, staring at the bow on my dress. "You were right about these creamy tits, Brandon."
My hands, trembling, rise to shield my chest. I glare at the floor, at all four pairs of feet, my white runners smaller than the others.
Thomas laughs and nudges Brandon with an elbow "Couldn't keep her satisfied?"
Brandon's face reddens, a mix of anger and something darker crossing his features. "Satisfied? Please. She was begging for it, so I gave it to her."
