Toxic

11. you finally came

DAX

AGE 17

NOT LONG AFTER I part ways with Cleo, Seven Minutes in Heaven is nothing but a feverish memory, and the reat of Brookes' party starts to feel like purgatory. The house is trashed at this point. Discarded red cups and condoms litter the floors. Heavy bass keeps thrashing against the walls. Traces of alcohol and weed cloud the air. One of the soccer players is snorting a line off of some girl's tits. Everyone's high off their asses and having the time of their lives.

But not me.

I'm about to lose my goddamn mind when Brookes tells me, "You're not allowed to leave until I pass out, okay?"

He doesn't know that I'm not planning to leave his house at all. After he passes out, I'll be upstairs.

Buried inside his little sister.

"Knowing you," I grumble impatiently, "that could take days."

"I know, right?" he says with a smirk. "Ready to fuck shit up?"

"Hell, yeah," I reply even though all I can think about is Cleo—hot, wet, and ready for me—while I'm stuck here with these shitfaced idiots. I keep replaying those blessed seven minutes in my head, wishing we could've fucked around in that closet for seven hours instead. Heat spreads across my skin as my imagination turns into filth. Something jumps between my legs. It's my dick.

Not now, dumbass.

For once, I don't want to be the asshole. I'm going to be a team player. It's Brookes' eighteenth birthday, after all. He's my only friend at Fairmont, and I want him to have a good fucking time tonight. I guess that includes sticking around until he's had his fill of pussy and booze.

Besides, it's not like I can run off without drawing attention to Cleo and me. Brookes is clueless but not that clueless. As far as he knows, we have an unspoken understanding that his baby sister is off-limits. I have to keep shit on the down low if I want to take things to the next level with Cleo. Seven minutes with her wasn't enough. One night with her won't be, either. I'm playing the long game here.

Over the next few hours, Cleo and I steer clear of each other. I know she doesn't want to stir up any more rumors, so I stay close to Brookes, doing whatever Birthday Boy wants to keep him happy. We play beer pong with some of his other friends. Then a bit of King's Cup. It's followed by a few rounds of strip poker. By 2 am, everyone's wasted and mostly naked.

Except for me.

"What the hell, Dax!" Samantha Lewis whines. She lost everything except for her bra and underwear. "You won again?"

I think Samantha is from one of my morning classes. Can't remember which one. But she's been staring at my crotch ever since the first round, probably hoping I'd lose all my chips so she can get an eyeful of my dick and balls.

Fuck off, bitch.

I call her out, "Hey. Eyes up here."

Cleo owns this set of dick and balls.

Blushing slightly, Samantha scoffs as though I didn't just catch her imagining what it might feel like to gag on my cock, "You wish."

Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention back to Brookes as he mutters, "Remind me to never play cards with you again."

"I just got lucky," I lie without batting an eye.

"Bitch, please. It's got nothing to do with luck," Brookes retorts. "You're a goddamn menace."

He's not wrong, I guess. One of my old foster parents was a raging alcoholic, but he also happened to be a pro gambler. The bastard taught me a few tricks on the days when he was semi-sober, and I used those tricks to hustle everyone at the table just now. I'm so fucking ready for this party to be over, so I did my best to speed things along. I'm constantly aware of the fact that every passing minute chips into my time with Cleo.

Without another thought, I shove my pile of winnings at him. "Here. What's mine is yours. Happy birthday, man."

"I don't need your pity," he grumbles.

"Then quit bitching and moaning already."

Brookes flips me off with a grin. "Fuck you and fuck this shit. I'm out."

His shorts and boxers are long gone. Wearing only a shirt, Brookes saunters away from the poker table with his ass cheeks hanging out. This time, I don't follow him. A few minutes later, I see him pull off his top and hurl himself into the pool. Great. Now he's skinny dipping with some cheerleaders.

I have no interest in joining them.

Growing more annoyed, I watch the girls take turns humping my best friend's dick underwater, and my patience runs thin. It's taking every shred of self-control to keep my feet planted on the ground when all I want to do is ditch Brookes for Cleo. If it was up to my dick, we would dip right now, but Cleo warned me not to get caught, and Brookes is still conscious enough to realize if I go missing. I can't fuck things up by ducking out too early. The moment I see a green light, though, you can bet your ass that I'm heading straight to Cleo's room.

Another hour goes by.

Then another.

Around 4 am, Brookes disappears into his room with one of the cheerleaders. His friends start heading out and going home. The ones that are sober enough to drive, anyway. Now only the stragglers are left. They're mostly passed out on spare beds and couches.

Fucking finally.

Without wasting another second, I practically run up the stairs. I take a right at the landing and slip down the hallway. Anticipation trails my every step. I stop in front of Cleo's room. Clenching my jaw, I enter and lock the door behind me. The room is dark, but I can make out her silhouette in the shadows, and I've been in here enough times to know the layout like the back of my hand. She's in bed.

I've been waiting all night to touch her.

Suddenly, I can't stand being away from Cleo for another second. With desperate strides, I hurry across the room and climb into her bed. The mattress sinks beneath my weight. My arm slides around her waist. Without a word, I pull her to my chest, spooning her body with mine. Cleo turns toward me and burrows her face into my neck.

Her breath warms my skin when she whispers you finally came.

I've never felt peace at any of the hellholes I've lived in, but—here—I'm finally home. Cleo knows that I grew up with nothing. She's well aware of the fact that I was tossed around like garbage from stranger to stranger ever since I was twelve. She understands exactly how fucked up I am, and, yet, none of my red flags seem to scare her away. If anything, she clings to me because of them.

"I was going insane downstairs," I whisper back, "knowing you were up here."

"I was afraid that you might not come."

Full of uncertainty, her gaze searches for mine. Cleo bites into her lower lip, and, for some reason, I find it attractive as hell. I wonder how it might feel if she sinks her teeth into my flesh, both of us drawing blood from each other as I fuck the virginity out of her.

I mean every fucking word that spills from my heart when I say, "I would've done anything to get to you tonight."

"Really?"

I nod, basking in the warmth of her body pressed against mine. "I never want to leave."

Cleo makes me feel like I matter. Like I'm wanted. Needed. Like nothing is impossible as long as she's by my side. She's the kind of girl who would drown for me, and I'd gladly drown for her. Right then, in the darkness of her room, I hold on to her with everything I've got.

Because I feel like I might die if she ever slips from my arms.