Hazed (Palm South University)

“I can be one of those, too.”

I snort. “No, you can’t.”

“I was to you.”

His words shock me silent, and I look down at the bar on a shrug. “I wasn’t exactly girlfriend of the year either.”

Neither of us have anything to say after that, and for a while, we just sit there and look around the bar, watching college students dance and party like they’ll be forever young.

I’m smiling at a girl hustling a group of guys at the pool table when Jarrett laughs beside me.

I glance over, and he’s still chuckling to himself, but his eyes are on where his hands are wrapped around his glass.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t nothing me,” I say, nudging his elbow. “What are you giggling like a schoolgirl about?”

He cracks his neck, glancing up and beyond the bar before he smirks again. “Just remembering.”

“Remembering?”

He nods toward the back of the bar before arching a brow at me. “That closet, though…”

I frown at first, wondering if I missed something, but when I follow his gaze to the far side of the bar by the bathrooms, all the blood rushes to my face.

The closet.

Halloween.

I was playing games, and he dragged me in there and fucked me senseless to remind me just how much I belonged to him, even when we couldn’t be together.

“Oh, God,” I murmur, burying my face in my hands again as Jarrett lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You have to admit, that was fun.”

“Oh, fun is one word for it,” I say, smiling when my eyes find his.

And maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the low lighting of the bar and the deep bass of the music thumping through me. But in that moment, looking up at Jarrett, I can remember exactly what that night felt like.

I can remember his hands gripping me with enough force to leave bruises.

I can remember his voice husking in my ear.

I can remember the long length of him sliding inside me, the pitch dark of the closet, the hot panting of our moans mixing together in the most sinful dance.

Kade’s face flashes in my mind, and I clear my throat, shaking my head fiercely and closing my eyes tight against the guilt rolling my stomach.

“Uh, I think I should probably get going,” I say.

“Feeling okay?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“Let me drive you home.”

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head as I stand and wave the bartender over to take my card. “No, no, really, it’s okay.”

“Jess, you shouldn’t drive right now.”

“I can get a cab.”

Jarrett stands then, leveling his warm brown eyes with mine. “Jess, please. I don’t want you getting into a cab by yourself like this. Just let me take you home.”

I swallow, because the fact is, I really don’t want to be in a cab by myself, but I also feel like spending any more time with Jarrett in the state I’m in is far more dangerous than anything a cab driver could do to me.

Still, I nod, conceding.

And after we pay our bills, we’re out the door and in his truck.

I knew I was drunk, but I didn’t realize just how drunk I was until the car ride back to my place.

The streetlights blurred as Jarrett drove us downtown, and I had to rest my head against the cool glass of his truck and close my eyes to keep from vomiting. Neither of us spoke a word the entire ride, and by the time he parks below my building, I’m certain throwing up is inevitable.

Jarrett hops out first, jogging around to open my door and help me out of the truck. He hoists my arm up around his neck and secures his around my waist, taking most of my weight as he guides me inside.

“I got you,” he promises.

It feels like a dream, or a movie, or someone else living my life as Jarrett digs for my key fob in my purse and pushes my floor number on the elevator. I barely remember the ride up or us walking inside, but somehow, my eyelids flutter open and I’m in my bed in my bra and panties with my bathroom trashcan pulled up next to my bedside table.

I groan. “God, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jarrett says from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. When I peek up at him, he’s smiling. “You’ve always been so cute when you’re drunk.”

“It’s going to be real cute when I throw up.”

“I’ll hold your hair back if you need.”

I smile, and then my eyes close again, and I’m not sure how long I lie there, how much time passes before I wake from an almost sleep to Jarrett brushing my hair off my face.

“Hey, can you lean up long enough to take these Advil and drink this glass of water?”

I nod with my eyes still closed, and though it takes all my energy, I manage to swallow the pills and chug almost all the water before I’m settling back down into my pillows.