Page 67 of Darkness Defined

“Eh, they’re not all bad. Sam is one of the good ones. But they’ve done their fair share of harm to the supernatural community, to demons in particular.” Lucas gave me a wary look. “So, you know, be careful if one seems to take an unusual interest in you.”

I thought back to Misty, the goth witch from the fight club. Maybe that was why she’d given me the creeps. “Noted. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“No problem.” We paused at where the sidewalk diverged to the different dormitories. “And, you know, if you ever want to talk about anything, Sam and I are pretty good listeners. I mean, obviously me more than him, but you get the gist.”

I laughed. “Thanks. See you around.”

“See you.” Lucas waved and wandered off.

With a sigh, I trudged toward Starling Hall. I opened the door to our dorm and my shoulders immediately sagged when I found no trace of Alex. So much for trying to talk to him. I flung my key on the coffee table. It settled with a loud clatter that chased me into my room. It wasn’t until I finished changing into a pair of loose sweats and a relaxed shirt I realized Alex was likely with Rubio at one of their joint “tutoring” sessions.

I flopped onto the bed with a creak of springs and an irritated grumble. So much for going out to get my mind off of things. I stared up at the ceiling as silence settled around me, my thoughts already orbiting around Alex. Was he in a relationship with Rubio and that’s why he was avoiding me? Because he’d never meant to kiss me in the first place? Did Alex kiss Rubio the way he’d kissed me?

I swallowed hard and licked my lips. I’d certainly never kissed anyone the way I’d kissed Alex, but it had been kind of hard not to. The way his lips had perfectly fit mine wasn’t anything I’d experienced before. My eyes fluttered shut as I remembered what he’d tasted like—sweet, rich mango from the tangaroa cocktail we’d been drinking. It had kind of been like an Amaretto Sour, but I’d wanted something sweeter in the hope Alex would like it. There were plenty of other things in the drink that should have been there, but on Alex’s lips there was only sweetness.

My thoughts took on a life of their own as I stopped remembering the way his tongue had curled around mine in a delicate invitation to explore and imagined doing it again… on purpose. I wasn’t alone in the dorm, moping in my room. I was with Alex, leaning over him to taste his smiling lips. My breath hitched as his long fingers curled in my hair and pulled me closer. A distant part of me wished I’d had the courage to touch him back that night, then I’d know what he felt like beneath my fingers, too.

Between one heartbeat and the next, I was suddenly the one on their back with Alex hovering over me. His grin was confident as he closed the distance to capture my mouth once more. Everything Alex did was confident, it was intoxicating. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew that, even as the fantasy kiss deepened and stole my breath. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more, wanted to know.

Thankfully, this was all in my head and my imagination was more than happy to supply me with exactly that. Alex’s lips abandoned mine to trail along my neck. All I had to pull from were past make-out sessions with other people for what it might feel like to have his lips pressing against the tender skin, and I suspected the experiences would pale to the real thing. That didn’t stop me from indulging, though. As if sensing my wavering focus, fantasy-Alex shifted to look down at me. An apology was already on my tongue—I shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong—then I saw the wicked gleam in his emerald eyes.

He lowered his mouth once more to capture mine with a kiss that had my fingers and toes curling in the sheets. Aching want pumped through every vein so hard it was a wonder I didn’t explode. Then Alex’s hand slipped beneath the band of my sweatpants. I gasped as I mirrored the movement and nearly came undone. He teased my lips, but didn’t relent. Release danced closer and closer with each stroke, making my extremities tingle and my mind fuzzy—everything except Alex. His name became a needy chant in my mind as he—I—we, kept going.

“Hey, Matt, did you call?” My bedroom door opened to reveal a confused Alex.

I squeaked out a yelp and yanked a pillow over my crotch so fast it was a wonder I didn’t break something important. “What the hell!”

Alex echoed my squeak at realizing what he’d interrupted. “Shit.” He tried to back out and ran into the doorjamb. “Fuck. Sorry. I could have sworn you called my name.” He attempted unsuccessfully to leave again and muttered more curses. “Clearly, I was, uh, wrong. I’ll just… leave you to it.” Finally, he righted himself enough to leave, and the door slammed shut.

For one insane moment, I contemplated calling him back. Maybe if I could see the fantasy all the way through, I could finally get the answers that eluded me. Like was this something I really wanted? Why now? Why Alex?

I smacked the spare pillow beside me so hard it made my palm sting and flopped back, forgetting that my main pillow was now sitting on my lap. My head bounced uncomfortably. I covered my face with the pillow and screamed as hard as I could. People said letting it all out could help make you feel better. But I didn’t feel better. I felt as lost as ever. I dropped the pillow back and stared up at the ceiling, almost exactly like I had when this horrible night had started.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

Chapter 20

Talking in Your Sleep

A

Iwasatacomplete loss for what to do with Matt. The first few days had been beyond awkward. Then I walked in on him. Where I’d expected the weirdness hovering between us to get infinitely worse, he acted as if nothing had happened at all. It wasn’t like he acted like he didn’t know I was gay, more like he was going out of his way to show that nothing was different, nothing had changed. But it had, everything had. Try as he might, there was no way to put the genie back in the bottle.

I looked up at him across the library. The light filtering through tall stained-glass windows fell in dappled patches on the cluster of deep mahogany tables. Within the cathedral-like building, Matt looked more like an angel than ever. He was sitting with a group of people that seemed vaguely familiar. He’d talked to them before and I was pretty sure he’d hung out with them beyond class as well. Which was great. I loved he was making friends; he needed more friends. The trouble was, I was almost positive he was only branching out to give me space.

Even from half a room away, I could tell he didn’t want to be talking to them. I knew Matt. Any normal day, he would’ve been right next to me, making jokes and getting us endless rebukes to be quiet. I hated that I’d taken that from him. My heart ached with guilt, and I refocused my attention on my own work. I’d caught him glancing over here enough times to be sure that if he saw me looking, he’d come over.

Only the muffled sound of distant voices disturbed the bubble of silence I’d cocooned myself in. I turned another page of the text I was perusing, still undecided on whether I wanted to use it for the Demonic History research project. At the muted scrape of a chair, I glanced up to find Matt sitting less than two feet away, watching me.

“You know, we are allowed to do the project in groups.” He rested his head on crossed arms. The move put him squarely within arms’ reach, his head practically in the book I was currently eliminating.

I checked the impulse to run my hand through his hair. That I had such a strong desire to do that even after everything that had happened, was exactly why everything was so strained, whether he wanted to admit it or not. “It looks like you have a group,” I said as casually as I could, moving the book farther away from his face and temptation.

He scoffed and leaned back. “Them? They still think they can get away with the class text. You and I both know there’s a perfect book sitting in the dorm.” He wanted to use my book. For some reason, that hurt.

“Then use it, Matt. I’m still looking.”

“Alex.”