Page 109 of The Truths We Burn

That Zippo comes dangerously close to my skin, so close that the burn is starting to hurt. He presses his face into my forehead aggressively, rolling his tongue across his teeth.

“Now who’s jealous?”

I feel the material of my panties give, and now both sides lie flaccid on the stage. My core is naked and so very close to his body. I shiver as the air brushes my extremely sensitive clit.

“Did you cry when you were in there?” he asks. “Was it scary for you, TG? Surrounded by all those crazy people, trapped somewhere you didn’t belong? Was it awful?”

Now he’s patronizing me.

Being a condescending prick.

I grind my teeth, lifting my head a little, brushing his nose with my own.

“I bet you wanted out. Begged to escape and when you couldn’t. You’d lie inside those four white walls, staring at the ceiling, fantasizing about all those times I was nine inches deep inside your cunt, didn’t you?”

His body moves, making contact with my center, and I try to muffle the moan, but it doesn’t work very well. A little whimper falls from my lips, my hips jerking, seeking more friction from him, needing some form of release.

“Yeah, I know you did. I bet you even slipped those fingers between your pale thighs and made yourself come thinking of my tongue on your pussy.”

The way he speaks is so vulgar, but coming from his mouth, it sounds like music. Caressing my body all over, wrapping me up with passion,

Rook is an aphrodisiac. From his hard glare to his steamy scent, he is intoxicating.

Walking sex.

You look at him, and he doesn’t have to say it, but you know he knows just how to fuck you. How to reach that spot no one else can.

I try to lift my hips closer, but it’s then he chooses to back up, removing himself from me completely, leaving me feeling hollow again. He plucks the blunt up from beside me, relighting it before pocketing his Zippo.

“Good,” he says as he inhales, “I’m glad you remember. I’m glad you thought about it, because that’s all you’ll ever get from me, Sage.”

Releasing the smoke from his lungs, he stares at me hard, retreating up the aisle.

“Memories.”

It’s not until he exits the doors that I breathe again.

And I also realize, my torn panties?

Are nowhere to be found.

Rook

“Come on, Silas, pick up.”

The dial tone just keeps going and going until I get the same result—a voicemail message telling me his inbox is too full.

“Goddammit.”

I stare down at the multiple texts I’ve sent that have yet to be replied to.

Dread boils inside my gut.

When I left class and went to our dorm to find him gone, I knew something was wrong. Something wasn’t right, and although for some people it’s normal to ghost their friends every once in a while, he always lets me know where he is headed.

He knows what it does to me when I don’t know.

When I’m left with my own mind for too long.