13. ALONE
PANDORA
I’m curled up on my bed with the blankets swirled around me. In sleep, I’m unprotected. The darkness chokes me, clawing icy witch nails into my scalp and poisoning me with flashbacks:
Snap.
My father’s face vanishing behind the door he slams on me.
Snap.
Stifling blackness draining all oxygen from the closet.
Snap.
The howls I produce and the thunder of my fists against the wall.
Snap.
The muted despair when survival instinct forces me to control the panic—
—because if I don’t, if I don’t, he keeps me there forever.
I jerk up in bed and push free of the past. I’m awake now, out of reach. I grasp for the lamp and tap until it’s bright, so bright, and I feel my smile quiver on my mouth. Almost blinding me, this orb created from the thinnest glass shrinks my demons. But when it dies—when it’s removed… it has the power to fuck. Me. Up.
I groan, a feeble effort to drown my thoughts.
The apartment is so quiet. At three a.m., everyone sleeps but me. I am by myself. My thoughts spin. I think about my life and how messed up it is. How I’ll fail my classes because I don’t study. Fifteen voicemails from Dear Mother make me want to chuck the phone out the window.
Christian stayed with Shannon, and Mica snuck into Destiny’s room once we’d all settled into our own last night. I envy them because they’re not alone.
My arms wrap around my midsection, and I draw my knees up. A kneecap meets my nose as I breathe out gradually, controlling the hopelessness.
Warm, golden eyes flare in my mind. It’s Dominic, watchful and keeping an eye on me at Smother. I’m not sure why he bothers. Doesn’t he see me? He’s got to know I’m not what he called me: “perfect.”
I cough a short laugh into my knee and bite down before I start crying. Yeah, I’m feeling sorry for myself. How pathetic am I, the poor princess whose parents sponsored a wing of the science building so the college would take special care of her? I’m nauseous, and not from the alcohol.
Dominic is probably getting his well-earned beauty sleep. After a day of studying, preparing for midterms, he’s been to work, then surely to the gym. At Smother, I bet he sucked down a single beer and tomorrow morning he’ll get up early to call home. Just the perfect little boy, isn’t he? Momma’s dream. Grandma’s dream.
My mind loops in circles that don’t let me relax.
I can’t stand this.
I snatch my phone off the night table and scroll back through my incoming calls.
There it is. The unfamiliar number calling me, what, six weeks ago? I add it as a new contact.
Perfect Dominic I tag it, because he’s the perfect one, not me. I kill some time searching for a saint with a halo, which I assign to his name. Then, I impulse-text him.
Are you awake?
Dominic replies instantly. Sound asleep.
You close by? I blush while I type out the words. Of course he isn’t—unless he’s at someone else’s house. Ugh.
Yep. Why?
I bite my lip to keep from smiling and punch out a new message. U want to come over?
For a very early Sunday brunch?
He’s funny, and I’m less lonely with him on the phone.
No, silly.
Hmm. What do you have in mind?
Did he just ask that? Two can play this game.
Surprise me. My heart speeds up, and I’m full-on grinning to myself.
Dominic takes a minute to text back. Anxious, I worry that I’ve been too obvious. He must be rolling those gorgeous eyes at me now and turning his phone off.
But then, the screen lights up again, and I bite my pinkie nail.
OK
My pulse thuds hard with his answer because I don’t know what he means. Is this a clipped, mad “OK,” a “whatever,” or a “be right there?” I wait, pondering my reply, and decide to play out a confidence I don’t own.
Front door code 6755
I hold my breath, but this time he doesn’t make me wait. His reply tics in seconds later.
OK
I tiptoe out to leave the apartment door ajar for him. No need to wake up friends that are chock-full of opinions about everything one does.
Next, I brush my teeth and my hair and throw a Victoria’s Secret robe over my shorts and tank top.
From Dominic’s clipped texts, I’m not sure what mood to expect from him. I hold my breath when I hear him enter.
“Hey,” he says, voice low. Still cold from the fresh night air, he stalks in and locks the door swiftly behind him. Then, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me with him to my room.
Wow!
“So… ‘Surprise me?’” he repeats my words back to me. I flush scarlet as I drop down onto the bed with my arms crossed.
“I…”
“What sort of surprise do you want, Pandora?”
I’m at a loss right now. Nerves prick at my neck, travel down my back, and I don’t know what to say. Crap, I wish I were wasted.
Dominic hunkers down between my knees, spreads them enough to move in closer. His arms brush my stomach on their way around my hips. For weeks now, his touch has been my medicine. My tranquilizer and my Zoloft. Dominic’s touch is magic.
“Massage?” he prompts.
I throw my hands over my face, hiding myself. I want so much from him, from my life. He’s near, tone quiet and understanding. Dominic fills the void with his presence, but he doesn’t know. Just doesn’t know—
Me.
A sob twists out of me before I can stifle it.
“Pandora. Babe. Are you crying?”
“No!” I sniffle too loudly, and he pries my hands from my face. With the back of two fingers—fingers so skilled at providing momentary sanctuary—Dominic wipes away my tears.
“Why are you sad? Tell me what’s going on.” His hands shift to cup my face. A thumb slides over my lip, removing a salty drop that has strayed too far down.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I say.
“No?”
“No, because you do everything right. You’re perfect.”
Dominic snorts. Then, he dips in and kisses my lips. I want it—crave another kiss, so I open my mouth to him. He kisses me again, longer this time. “Come here, babe.”
I giggle through my sniffles when he hoists me higher up on the mattress. “Smooth, Dominic,” I say as he flops against the headboard, rattling it to the wall. “Waking up the whole house much?”
His lips stretch in a sexy grin. He pats his chest, and I obey, crawling up the length of his body.
“Hmm, that’s a good look for you, tigress,” he purrs, and he’s got me laughing now. By the time I’m nestled against him, no remnant of amusement plays over his features. “Tell me why the world’s come to an end.”
Or we could talk about something else.
“Naw, I’m all right—just moody.”
“How’s school going?”
Seriously?
“Dominic,” I start, ready to tell him to butt out, but end up squirming to push myself out of his embrace instead. He doesn’t let go. Dominic catches my ponytail at the base and pulls my head back so I meet his eyes. They’re a calm, undaunted butterscotch right now, and he—the entire situation—flusters me.
“Midterm catching you off guard?”
“That’s the least of my problems,” I mutter. Then, I reconsider. “Bah, I’m lying. It’s a big one.”
Dominic uses my ponytail to realign my head so he can lick my lips. I close my eyes at the customary bolt of energy shooting down to my abdomen.
“I’m scatterbrained,” I specify, licking him back. Becoming more scatterbrained by the second.
“You gotta study, see?”
“But I can’t concentrate. I don’t sleep at night, so I nap during the day instead.” I puff out the confession. Even if the girls are on my case nonstop, conjuring worst-case scenarios in an attempt at helping me, I haven’t acknowledged this out loud before.
“Why don’t you sleep at night, babe?” Dominic’s voice is so intimate against my mouth. Like he cares. He slips a hand in under my robe to caress the tender flesh below my underarm. I suck in a breath, because he almost brushes my breast.
“I… have so many thoughts, and—”
“And?”
“I don’t sleep well with the light on, but if I don’t have it on, then some childhood stuff comes back.”
A slow blink prefaces Dominic’s recognition.
“Bad stuff?”
“Well, yeah. Nothing major. I got grounded a lot because I was wild.”
“You are wild.”
“Whatever!” My budding anger instantly deflates, because he’s right.
“Sorry,” he offers anyway. “And you didn’t enjoy being grounded. Does it haunt you now?”
My eyes have stopped leaking, thank God. “Sort of, I guess. It wasn’t easy for them to ground me. I’d escape no matter what they did, so my dad got a brilliant idea. He shut me into my walk-in closet.”
Dominic draws me out from him to check if I’m serious. Unfortunately, I am. “Don’t get me wrong—my walk-in’s pretty spacious, and I’d never starve or be thirsty or anything, but…”
His eyebrows cinch together. “But what?”
“Well, he sort of… Kept the light off.”
“No windows?”
“Duh, it’s a walk-in.”
Dominic remains silent for a moment. He tucks my head into the nape of his neck like we’re lovers, not mere acquaintances with occasional benefits. “How long each time?”
“Um, it depended on the infraction,” I titter, but he’s not laughing with me. “Dad couldn’t exactly let me roam the house if he wanted me grounded for the weekend.”
“Are you saying that he’d lock you up for a whole weekend? In the dark?”
I feel stupid. Like I shouldn’t have let this happen. “Um… Yeah.”
“No fucking way.”
It’s my turn peek up at him.
“Hey, not like I had to go potty in a bucket or anything. And I got out for dinner.” The more I tell him, the more insane my dad’s system sounds.
“How many years?” he asks.
I roll a shoulder in a shrug against him. “Started when I was thirteen, after Mica and I ran away.”
“So five years?”
I’m done thinking.
“What’s with the third degree, dude? I only mentioned it so you’d understand why I had a hard time sleeping at night. I don’t like the light on, but the dark is too damn dark, all right? That window there?”
I point, mad at the window too. “Doesn’t help one bit. All it does is go straight into the neighbor’s wall. I don’t even know why they have a window here!”
“Ssshh, babe,” he murmurs, stroking my face, but I’m not finished talking about windows.
“How fucking ironic that the only awesome window is in the stupid-ass living room?” As I say it, I realize how not ironic that is. It’s sort of smart.
“Yeah, ironic,” he almost hums, soothing me, but I see a trace of humor in his eyes. My chance to escape the subject.
I turn in his arms and slink around his neck. “I need something else to think about.”
“Yeah?” he whispers, voice soft. The hot air from his nostrils gives me chills.
“Yup.”
He rolls us over. Dominic faces me, and I’m suddenly shy when he scrutinizes my expression. “No massage, then?”
I’m not as outspoken when I’m sober. Squirming, I finally manage, “A little… more, I guess?”
Dominic doesn’t answer but wedges a knee between my legs. With a small boost, he accommodates me against his thigh. He removes the robe from my free arm, the silk caressing my back as it falls to the mattress.
Nudging me closer, he kisses me slowly. This man, who’s so much better than me, runs a hand over my back and cups my butt. Too soon, he has my breath faltering.
When I hook my leg over his hip, he’s hard as granite against me. I gasp when he presses us together. We’re joined, melded seam to seam. Just—we’re not, because there’s denim between us.
My stomach aches with need.
“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs.
I unzip his jeans. Belatedly, I fumble with his belt. “You want to leave?”
“I should.” Dominic’s hands skim over me, maybe on autopilot because of the time they spend on my skin each week. But now, they go further. They hook under the straps at my hips, tugging, inching my thong over my thighs.
“Why should you leave?” I gasp.
He’s right, because I’m not worthy. Just—I’ve been thinking too much tonight, and I don’t want to think anymore.
Guilt hits me like a single, dusty brick, but it doesn’t stop the decision from trickling through me: Carpe diem. I only live once—and I’m enjoying him.
It’s easy to suppress the remorse when Dominic removes my bra, sinks his teeth into my breast, sucking. He growls, pleased, because of me.
I—
Am a brat. Undeserving.
But who am I kidding? I am also weak and calculating; I texted him. Woke him up in the middle of the night for—
“Ah!” I moan when he penetrates me. He fills me completely and squeezes me tight. Skin against skin. Sleek, warm, already dampened with our sweat.
Dominic is on top of me, forcing me into the mattress, and his weight is what I need.
“Fuck, you’re too delicious.” His kisses are frantic, and I recognize his heated response. I already know him.
Yes, he’s climbing with me, taut muscle quaking over me. “I—wasn’t supposed to,” he sighs out, and I shatter around him.