Jem

LET’S JUST GET one thing out of the way— I don’t like frat parties. Or much about the Greek lifestyle and all its Kappa shit. And if I don’t like something, I stay away. Simple as that. So it probably makes me a hypocrite to be standing here, smack bang in the middle of NYU’s College House.

Except I didn’t come for any reason other than the fact that work had been kicking my ass lately. I had the longest shift (the entire day)—and eight hours of pure sweat at Charley’s was enough to turn even a fucking hermit to the nearest place they could get a drink. Or a smoke. Whatever. I just needed a damn break.

I haven’t been able to get the hospital bill out of my mind, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to give the tracks a visit. When ma found out that I raced for money, she made me promise I’d never do something so dangerous that it was a threat to my life ever again.

But I’m now thinking I need to break that promise, because that’s the only way I’m going to be able to get 20K to settle that medical bill.

I’d been sat the bar with Mason, who was having as bad as a time as me, if not worse. He was still mourning the loss of that tiny blonde. I even had to save him from some girl, who’s currently straddling my lap, and she’s saying something, but I’m not paying attention because to be honest? I’m worried about Mason.

He didn’t talk much about girls, but when he did, it was always I need to get groceries because Ever’s at the apartment, I need to get back early because Ever’s at the apartment, I can’t stay for too long because Ever will be alone.

Her apartment had been trashed a few months ago, so he didn’t want to leave her alone at his place for too long. Clearly, the guy is ball-fucking-deep in love with her. And just his luck—she was here.

With another guy.

Asian, lean build—he’s rounding the pool table across the room as he leans down to meet Ever with her smile, and when she smiles back, I can practically feel Mason crack beside me.

“I need to get out of here,” he says.

“Mase.” I turn to him, but the girl on my lap clearly figures out I’m not completely enamoured by her, so she reaches her hand out to bring my face back to hers, and I’m pissed because I didn’t want any of this. I just want a drink.

Okay, maybe I also wanted to fuck someone.

But not the redhead on my lap. Nope. There’s a difference between hearing and listening, and I’m definitely hearing her right now.

Redhead manages to buy my attention long enough for Mason to disappear in the crowd. Great. I need to get rid of her as quickly and as easily as possible. Without seeming like a dick.

“I have gonorrhoea,” I say, offering her a smile.

And suddenly, she’s not drunk anymore. She’s making this face of pity and disgust mixed together as she’s slinking off me and I’ve never been happier to self-diagnose myself with an STD. When I glance back to the pool table, I swear I’m seeing things.

But I know I’m not that drunk and —it is her. The girl from the elevator.

Indigo. And then I’m walking to her, calling her name. She’s drunk, saying things falling so brashly out of her pretty mouth that I have no other choice but to smile. To be honest? I never talk, but this time I’m really speechless. The girl’s stunning.

Her hair is this chocolate shade of brown and it’s so curly I want to know how it would feel to run my hands through it. She’s wearing this top—damn—and she’s got the prettiest rack that kinda spills out of the top a little­ and—fuck—I’m wondering how those would feel in my hands too.

She trips, and I reach out to her. I try to touch material, but with that tiny lace top there’s more skin than material. She gives me a look where she’s trying to decide whether she should be offended or not, so I pull away and keep a hand on her wrist. I’m apologizing, but her attention isn’t on me anymore.

And I want it back. And I know it’s stupid, and impulsive, and wrong, but I say it anyway.

“Use me.”

She’s defensive. Obviously. But I goad her into it, because I’m an asshole.

“C’mon Indie,” I say, “Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”

I’m buying five minutes of her time, five minutes of her— because it’s all I’m going to get. She clearly cares about this guy, so I make a promise that after tonight, I’ll be out of her life. It’ll be like I never even existed in the first place. And this is going to hurt me more than anyone.

Just five minutes.

I’m half-expecting her to pull up another wall and turn down this idea, because it’s stupid, and any relationship built on jealousy isn’t worth it anyway, but she agrees.

“Fine,” she says.

I push off the pool table, and I’m sick and this is twisted, but I check if it’s really what she wants. “I have to touch you for it to work.”

There’s a stubborn look to her features when she says, “I know.”

I’m pretty certain it’s the alcohol talking, but the darker part of my mind chooses to believe it isn’t. Before I can convince myself just how bad of an idea this is, I place my hands at her sides and tell her to loosen up.

This riles her up like I knew it would. “I know how to dance.”

And now? Now she’s grinding into me, holding my hands at her side. The lights change color, coating her in red and blue every two seconds. And someone—Ace—whistles as he walks past with two red solo cups, one in each hand.

I’m too distracted to spare him a second glance. Indigo’s palms on top of my hands aren’t even that strong of a hold, but it’s like they’re burning into my skin. She tilts her head to the side, exposing a tringle of skin at the back of her neck and my blood’s roaring in my veins, rushing to my groin. Fuck.

This needs to stop before she notices I have a hard on not even thirty seconds after she just moved against me. Yep, this needs to stop. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I swallow, gripping onto her wrists with both hands as I bring them higher and turn her around.

She’s staring up at me with this bright, burning kind of anger in those big, round eyes, but when I don’t give her any reaction, the anger quickly dissolves. Her brows furrow, and her throat bobs, and her eyes glaze over.

“He saw.” She says it quietly, but I still hear, because even with this loud ass music in the background, every single one of my senses are hyper focused on the girl in front of me.

And she doesn’t have to elaborate, because I know what she means. He saw, but he didn’t do anything. Why? It’s a simple answer, actually. He doesn’t fucking care. I sigh, and my hands settle on her sides again, and I hope she doesn’t question why I’m still here, because it’s a simple answer, really.

I want to be.

Indigo doesn’t pull away—maybe she’s still trying to calm the ache in her chest that’ll no doubt be there. I’m guessing she’s been crushing on this guy for a while or something, because she’s taking it pretty bad. And there’s this ugly fucking ache in my own chest that I’ll have to think about later, but I ignore it and ease her closer to me. She doesn’t resist.

Actually, she does the opposite. Slowly, like she expects me to stop her halfway, she links her arms over my shoulder and around my neck. When I don’t pull away, she relaxes her body, burying the side of her face against my chest. She’s hugging me.

Gently, like she doesn’t trust herself to hold herself together. I can feel the heat of her breath through my shirt, the tension rolling off her in waves, and this…sweet watermelon scent comes with her being so close. The ache in my chest grows, but I settle a hand in her soft curls, the other still at her waist.

And we’re just standing here, at the centre of this stupid fucking frat party with its stupid fucking music—but she’s in my arms and I don’t think I’ve felt a peace like this in a long time. Even with my heart going at a hundred an hour.

Then, the warmth between us is harshly extracted when Indigo is pulled away from me, and I draw back to process what just happened. It’s him. The stupid motherfucker she likes. He has his hand on her shoulder and I want to rip it the fuck off.

She looks at him with her lips slightly parted, and the alcohol is wearing out, but it’s still there. “Kade?”

The guy— Kade, ignores her, his green gaze settling on me instead. He’s frowning and I wonder if he knows how his body language is so obviously communicating what he doesn’t say out loud. Right now? He’s looking for a fight.

He’s not too tall, not too built, and he needs to pipe down, because I could unequivocally take his ass. Thirty seconds max. But then I look at the lost, disorientated look on Indigo’s face, and I suppress the urge.

“What the hell are you doing?” He spits. “She’s clearly drunk.”

I ignore him, turning to Indie instead. She must see that I’m waiting for some sort of explanation because she lowers her gaze, her eyes not meeting mine when she mumbles, “He’s my—”

“Boyfriend,” he fills in for her.

At this, her head snaps up. “What?” Now she’s looking at me. “Ex,” she clarifies, “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” he brushes her off, and his eyes are on me. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to watch as some loser tries to take advantage of you.”

Oh? I roll my bottom lip under my teeth as I try a restrained smile to stop myself from retaliating, but this asshole is chewing up all the patience I have. And he’s still touching her.

“Come on.” His hand trails down the bare skin of her arm as he tried to thread his fingers with hers. “I’ll take you home.”

Indie rips away, edging closer to me. And I don’t know why the fuck I’m still here, still witnessing what’s clearly some pretty couple drama, because I don’t really give a shit, but I stay rooted to the spot.

“No,” she says. “I’m staying.”

His eyes flare. “Indigo.”

She doesn’t move.

And then he’s reaching out for her again, but I stride from my spot at the pool table to just in front of her, my hands tucked in the pockets of my jacket, so I’m not tempted to use them. I stare him down, which is pretty easy since I have about five inches on him. “You heard what she said.”

Something in his jaw twitches, but he doesn’t back down. “Look,” he says, “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t want this. You don’t want her. So just let me take her home and we can let this whole thing slide.”

“Look,” I say, “Cody.”

“Kade.”

“Right,” I say, “Card. She said she doesn’t want to leave with you. So she won’t.”

He’s back to clenching that stupid jaw of his, but he must see that I’m not joking, because he backs off this time. His gaze draws over my shoulder to where I know Indie is still standing, and I decide I’ve had enough of him.

“Oh, and Card?” I say. He doesn’t know how fucking stupid he looks when he responds to the wrong name, flicking his eyes back to me. I grin. “You’re right. You don’t know me. So let’s not pretend that you have the slightest fuckin’ clue about what I want.”

He skips a breath, I know he does, because it takes him two seconds too long to scowl. “It’s Kade.”

And then he’s gone. Fina-fucking-ally. I turn back to Indie, who’s giving off entirely different energy to when I first found her tonight. It’s like she’s…deflated. Drained. I hate it. That, even if it was unknowingly, I encouraged her to make her dumbass ex jealous. Why did she even date that tool in the first place?

I’m cussing myself when I near her. “Hey,” I start “Are you—”

But I’m cut off when a small Asian girl reaches Indie first. Indie snaps out of wherever she was, brows furrowing as she looks at her friend. “Mae? You’re done?”

The black-haired girl who’s obviously her friend, rolls her eyes. “He passed out halfway. Kinda what I get for settling for a freshman. What did I miss?” Then, she notices me, and her eyes widen a little, and she’s staring between Indie and I, and then again, and then she must realize something because she says, “Oh. Oh.”

Indie swallows as she offers me a passing glance, and she’s about to speak when Ace appears out of nowhere, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “You still here, J? There’s a game of Spin in the room one over. Free vodka shot if you participate.”

He notices Indie and her friend, and he smiles. “Ace.”

She smiles back. “Indigo.”

Her friend says, “Mae.”

And they’re all looking at me, but I’m too late to respond because Ace goes, “Jem. He doesn’t talk much but he’s nicer than he looks, I promise.”

“Really?” Mae quips.

“Yeah,” Ace smiles, “Ask Indigo.” Then he winks. A flush creeps onto Indie’s face, and the sides of my mouth lift at the sight.

Ace turns his attention back to the girls. “So you two down?”

Mae shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better do,”

Indie looks like she just wants to forget, and this is the perfect opportunity. “Yeah.”

“I’m in,” I say.

The circle is huge— like a good thirty people and there’s a cheap bottle of whiskey at the centre. Music’s still roaring in the background, but the lights are dimmer here.

I notice the redhead from earlier across the circle, and when she notices me, she whispers something in the ear of the girl sitting next to her, and then they’re both looking. I offer them a curt grin, just because I can, and they look away so fast they have to be breaking some record.

I settle on the hardwood floor with my legs stretched out in front of me before a preppy sorority girl comes over with a tot cup. There’s this annoying gold glitter covering the floor, and when I palm its surface unknowingly, it sticks to my skin like glue.

I’m inwardly cursing when I see Indie’s sitting too, and she hesitates with the cup in her hand before she gives herself a mental pep talk before she throws it back. Her eyes crinkle as she grimaces, and even with that repulsed expression she’s … cute.

I take the shot, and I see why she made the face. Whatever it is, it’s stronger than Smirnoff.

The preppy sorority girl who looks like that blonde chick from Mean Girls stands in the centre saying, “If you don’t kiss the person on the other side of the bottle you take off a piece of clothing as a penalty.” People are in a lively uproar now, and she has to shout for them to calm down. “Also, shoes, watches, jewellery don’t count. Have fun!”

Indie’s swallowing but she stays, so I stay. The game starts, and the bottle never lands on anyone I know or care about. Ace gets it twice, the first time it’s a guy. They both take their shirts off, and the second’s a girl and—damn, if she could have sex with Moreno at the centre, right here, in front of everyone, she would.

Ace separates from her with a guilty smile. He swipes his mouth with the back of his thumb as he gives me a “what can you do” look. I huff a laugh, even if his face looks so damn punchable in that moment.

There’s a few more rounds of the bottle before it lands on Indigo’s little friend—Mae. And it’s a girl at the other side of the bottle. When she moves to the centre, people are cheering, and Indie’s eyes are wide as she looks to her friend. I expect her to pull her top over her head, but she she rises to her feet and moves to the centre. The cheering intensifies.

And then they’re kissing.

I look over to Indie, who has her mouth dropped as she watches.

Mae returns to Indie’s side and they’re both laughing, but I’m only really paying attention to one of them, really.

There’s two more rounds before the bottle lands on Ace again, and everyone’s flipping out over the fact that it’s landed on this fucker again. But my heart flies out of my chest when I see who’s sitting at the other end of the bottle.

Indigo.

Mae’s laughing and there’s a shadowy, barely-there smile on Indie’s face. She looks down as she realizes she’s only wearing jeans and that top. No bra. Any idiot can see that if she takes off anything more, she’ll be practically nude. And Ace is already shirtless.

Shit.

And then she’s standing, and Ace is standing too. And they’re walking to the centre…leaning in—

I shoot to my feet, striding toward them before I can think about it. I reach down, my arm coming around her midriff as I throw her behind my back. She shrieks behind me, but I’m not letting go anytime soon. Some people are boo-ing and others are cheering, but I don’t really give a shit about them.

If she wore a jacket, I’m sure she would’ve stripped it instead of kissing Ace, but whether she wanted it or not, there was no way in hell I was going to watch one of my best friends stick his tongue down her throat. I’m not drunk enough for that.

I know I promised myself only five minutes with the girl, and no more, that after tonight Iʼd stay away from her — but her crush turning out to be her ex changes things a little. And the promise I made to ma? To not ever go street racing again?

It might not be the only one I plan on breaking.

Ace’s green eyes are bright as he looks over at me. “Brooooo.”

“Don’t bro me,” I say, “She’s too drunk. For this. For you. I’m taking her home.”

I wonder if I wouldʼve done the same thing if it wasnʼt Ace at the other end of the bottle. And then I stop wondering because Indie tries to kick me in the crotch. It doesnʼt work, because sheʼs so buzzed, obviously, but it still sets me off track.

She struggles against me, but then her hands slump as she finally gives up, and I can tell that the vodka shot in her system has kicked in, because her movements are lackluster and much weaker than theyʼre meant to be.

“You should’ve just told me she was off limits!” Moreno calls behind me.

I ignore him, and just carry on walking. But I can’t ignore the voice inside my head that yells back—

She is. 

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a/n:

hol up i actually kinda like this chapter

iʼm ready for you by bryson tiller is 10000% a jem song.

until the next one,

stay gold,
yuen