Chapter 12

Abby:

The trek all the way down the stairs of the student services building feels like it takes a million years, even though we’re practically running down them in our haste to get to somewhere we can be alone—and not on camera. Once at the bottom, we don’t bother going through the main corridor of the Student Services building. Instead, Paul leads me out of the emergency exit that spits is out right into the quad between Student Services and Arthur Hall.

It feels like freedom. Until I realize we still need to get halfway across campus to Willow Suites where my dorm room is. I tuck my hand into Paul’s and drag him with me as I set off, a girl on a mission. A sex mission. It’s barely 7:30, and students still mill about in places. Otherwise, I would be sorely tempted to stop in every dark alcove and under the cover of every shadowy tree along the way to get another taste of Paul. Hell, even with the other students around, I’m still tempted. Even though we don’t officially stop to maul each other, we still do quite a bit of touching, grazing, fondling, and every few minutes, Paul leans down to pepper my cheeks, my lips, my neck with the gentlest pecks, only serving to make me want more of his kisses. I can’t remember the last time I was this keyed up about getting a guy into bed. Okay, yes, I can. It was the last time Paul and I were together. Because for all the pain he brought me, the man definitely knows how to bring it in the bedroom. He was a musician and my body his instrument, and together, we made the most beautiful music.

Finally, Willow Suites is in site, the decade-old building with bold blue arched awnings and modern metal accents. I’ve never been happier to see this butt-ugly building. A petite blonde I recognize from my floor, but whose name I don’t know, is exiting through the lobby doors when we reach them, and Paul reaches out to take the door from her, then steps back to let her through. After she passes, he motions for me to go through and then smacks my ass playfully as I go by.

I laugh and sway my hips in an exaggerated invitation for him to do it again. We cross the lobby to the stairs, but I stop in front of them and turn back to Paul. “Should we?” I nod in the direction of the elevator. I only live on the third floor, but elevators no longer seem like utilitarian conveyances from one floor to the next to me. Now, they are privacy cabins where I might be able to sneak a few minutes of passion-fueled embraces.

Paul looks past me, and I can tell the exact minute he realizes what I’m suggesting because his eyes light up with interest and his mouth cracks into a wide grin. “I think so.” And with that, we head for the elevator. Paul gets there one step before me and presses the call button quickly. The elevator must already have been on the ground floor because the doors open immediately. The carriage is blessedly empty.

We step in together, both going straight to the back and turning to face the doors as they close. The second we’re alone, Paul is in front of me, over me, around me. His mouth lands on my hungrily, and his body presses me backward into the wall in the most delicious way.

I lean into him, letting him hold me against him when his arm snakes around behind me. His kisses are greedy and adoring, and I’m melting into them as if being with Paul is what my body exists for.

And then the elevator dings as the doors slide open.

We break apart and turn toward the open doors. Neither one of us hit any buttons when we got on, not to go up, not to stay still. And now the elevator doesn’t know what to do. I reach for the button that will close the doors, just as a female voice calls out, “Hold the elevator.”

For a fraction of a second, I consider pretending I didn’t hear the call and closing the doors anyway. But I see my neighbor, Stephanie, hurrying toward us with an armload of thick, heavy-looking textbooks. I’m horny, not a horrible person. So, I shift my trajectory and instead hold down the button to keep the doors open.

Stephanie hurries onto the elevator, panting from exertion. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” I answer with a smile. I slice a glance at Paul to see if he’s annoyed that I interrupted our little make out sesh to help out a friend, but his expression is friendly.

“Which floor?” he asks Stephanie.

“Three,” I answer for her. “She’s in the room right next to mine.”

He nods and presses the three, and the carriage lurches into motion, albeit much more gracefully than the persnickety old elevator in the parking garage.

Paul holds out his hands and asks, “Can I help you with those?”

I follow his gaze to find Stephanie struggling under the weight of her books, and now I feel like an ass for not offering to help her myself. Leave it to Paul to be the knight in shining armor for a perfect stranger while her friend and neighbor just stands there oblivious to her struggles.

“That would be so great, thank you!” Stephanie hands off her stack to Paul, who is considerably less burdened by their weight than she was. “I carried them all the way from the library. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to go there without my backpack. Live and learn, right?”

The elevator dings our arrival on the third floor and the doors open. Paul nods for Stephanie and me to lead the way. Stephanie’s room is right next to mine, and one door closer to the elevator, so we stop outside her door first. She opens it and grabs a shoe from just inside her room to prop the door open, then reaches back to retrieve her books from Paul. “Thanks again!”

“No problem.” He hands them off, then turns toward me. Over his shoulder, Stephanie mouths to me, He’s cute! Before ducking inside her room and kicking the shoe out of the way so her door swings shut.

Yes, he is cute, and he’s all mine. And now, we’re just ten feet from real privacy, where I’ll be able to do all the things that I’ve been wanting to do with him all evening. I lean up onto my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips. I only meant it to be a short graze of my mouth on his, but he wastes no time wrapping both arms around me and pulling me tight to him. And that’s how we travel the distance between Stephanie’s door and mine: wrapped in each other’s arms, his tongue in my mouth mimicking the very movements I want other parts of his body to be doing.

When we get to my door, he presses me against it for leverage as he palms my ass and moves his kisses down to my neck. As much as I’m enjoying kissing him here like this, I’m almost certain that if I don’t get him into my room and into my bed in the next thirty seconds, I’ll implode. I reach for the doorknob, praying the room is unlocked so I don’t have to dig out my key.

But, if it’s unlocked, that means Krystal is here, and I will have to ask her to leave. The doorknob turns easily, and I immediately start mentally running through what I will say to Krystal to convince her to leave. I don’t come up with anything good in the time it takes me to push the door open. So, I pull my mouth away from Paul’s and call over my shoulder, “I’m getting laid. Make yourself some popcorn or get out.”

I expect to hear a laugh behind me, but instead all that meets my ears is a sniffle. And then another. Someone is crying. Fuck.

I reluctantly tear myself away from Paul and turn around to gauge the situation. It’s not Krystal crying, and she’s not alone in our room. Krystal’s lifelong best friend, Miranda, is curled in a sad little ball on Krys’s bed, hugging one of Krystal’s eight hundred or so stuffed animals. Her eyes are red rimmed and swollen, and the stain of wet tears streaks her face.

I freeze in place, and Paul comes to a complete standstill behind me as well.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Mostly because I actually care. Miranda is my friend too. But a little part of me is dying inside as I quickly lose any hope of fucking Paul tonight.