Ritual - Palm South University

“I know we’ve been taking it slow,” she whispers, and I see her throat constrict as she swallows. “But I feel how lost you are right now, Clinton. And I want you to find yourself in me.”

My eyes trail her slight curves visible even in the loose fabric of my t-shirt, and when my gaze settles on the wet heat between her legs, I will myself to feel something — anything. Because that’s my M.O. If I have something to run from, I find solace in fucking, and working out, and drinking myself into oblivion.

But the desire I yearn to feel for Becca is subdued, suffocated by the vision of another girl I’d been inside of — one I’d “lost myself” in when I was running from something.

Erin Xander.

Still, I can’t walk out on Becca — not with her vulnerability on full display like this. So, I shove my own fears and anxieties out, ignoring the anger and the desire for answers I’ll never get to questions I should never, ever ask.

In the end, it was Erin’s body, and it was her choice.

I find as much resolve from that fact as I can, and in two strides, I’m standing over Becca, sliding my hands up her shins, over her knees, along the warm, smooth skin of her inner thighs. And for the first time since we started dating, I slide my palm over her clit, my fingers dipping between her wet lips.

She shivers, hands fisting in my shirt and holding onto me for dear life as her eyes flutter shut. She lets her head fall back when I press my fingers inside her, slowly, tentatively, and I will myself to be present. I will my dick to stand at attention, will my brain to focus on the beautiful woman giving herself to me.

But everything feels dead.

Lifeless.

Empty.

“I want tonight to be about you,” I say with a groan, escaping her hands just before they dip below the band of my sweatpants. She pouts for only a moment before I’m on my knees, tugging her ass to the edge of the bed. “Let me discover you.”

At that, her eyes heat with desire again, and she smirks, letting me have my way with her.

And I do.

I take my time, testing out what makes her writhe. Is it when I flick my tongue over her clit, or when I roll it hot and flat along her seam? Is it when my fingers just barely enter her, or when they curl deep inside? Does she like it when I bite her and grip her hard and give her bruises, or does she want me slow and soft and romantic, does she want care and concern?

I find the answers to every single one of my questions, but I do so with a sort of distant, numb version of myself — as if I have a clone, and I’m in a room miles away controlling him.

I asked Becca to take it slow because I’d been hurt before. Because I felt so much for her. Because I knew she was special, and I didn’t want to fuck it all up by moving fast.

I’d waited so long to touch her this way.

And yet, I feel nothing.

Becca’s nails dig into my flesh. Her body writhes in my sheets. Her cries are heard through the entire Omega Chi house before she grabs one of my pillows and bites down hard to subdue them.

She comes with her hands in my hair and my name on her lips.

And still, I am numb.THE EXCITEMENT THAT COURSES through my veins on the first day of a new semester is a neon flashing sign for how big of a nerd I am.

Fortunately, I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding my geeked-out joy, though if anyone looked close enough, I’m sure they’d see it.

I’m sure they’d see my hands shaking a little as I unpack my new notebook and fresh pack of Le Pens, ordering them in color on my desk, ready to mark up the syllabus once the professor hands it out. They’d see my smile — not overly obnoxious or visibly excited, but permanent in its place. They’d see that my new, short hair is perfectly styled and that I had this outfit laid out a week in advance. They’d see the foot hanging where my legs are crossed under my desk, swinging slightly, and the cool, calm collectiveness I’m faking as I open my laptop — just in case I need to take notes there, too.

It’s junior year, and I’m not messing around.

I’m finally out of all of the general education classes, and firmly in the core curriculum that will get me my bio med degree. This isn’t even the prerequisites we’re talking about. I’m done with biology I and II, with organic chemistry, with my first labs. I’m officially in the classes that really matter, the ones where I don’t just like getting As, but where I will need them if I have any prayer of getting into the medical schools on my dream list.