Chapter 5
FIVE
CLARA
OHMIGOD .
The three women standing in front of us, their phones focused on Luke bending me over, buried inside of me, will forever be burned into my brain, etched into the recess of my mind until the day I die.
After tugging my skirt down, I shifted past those bitches, and I ran right out of the bar. I didn’t even tell my roommates I left. Instead, I sent them a text message that I was heading home, but I didn’t tell them why.
Honestly, I didn’t even send for a rideshare. I walked. Thankfully, our apartment isn’t too far away from the bar, so while walking around downtown Cleveland wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had, I had to get out of there as fast as I could.
Thankfully, I made it home safe and sound. But that doesn’t mean I’m mentally well. Bringing my legs up to my chest, I close my eyes and rest my cheek against my knees. I’ve changed out of my sexy dress, tried to shower the ick from being so exposed off my body, and changed into sweats and a hoodie.
I still feel icky.
Nothing we did was wrong in any way. I love Luke. Every time he touches me, I feel whole and at peace. But those women recording me, likely plastering it all over the Internet, it’s a violation I’ve never experienced before.
My phone buzzes next to me. It’s been dancing all over the floor since I sat down to feel sorry for myself, but I don’t have the energy to pick it up and look at it. In fact, I may never look at another phone again.
Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to cry, but I can feel the tears welling up inside of me. God. I hate crying. I also hate feeling bad about myself. It feels like I did something really wrong, but I know I didn’t.
My body jolts as someone slams their hand on the bedroom door behind me. The door vibrates down my back, and I scramble away in fear that it’s going to shatter into a million pieces.
“Open the fucking door,” a deep voice growls.
I know that deep voice. He was deep inside of me not long ago. But as I stand a few feet away from the door, I can’t help the insecurity I feel. I don’t want to answer it. I don’t want him to see me. I don’t want anyone to see me.
“Clara,” he rasps. “Open the door, baby.”
God.
My heart aches at the way he says baby . Tentatively, I take a step forward, then another as I reach for the handle of the door. Before I twist it open, I have to unlock it, and as I do, I close my eyes.
Pinching them tightly, all I can do is breathe. I’m not sure what I expect to happen, but it isn’t for Luke to wrap me in his arms. He dips his chin, his lips resting against my ear before he speaks to me in a whisper.
“It’s going to be okay,” he rasps. The lie rolls off his tongue so easily that I almost believe him.
Luke’s fingers gently glide up and down my back. The motion triggers those tears that had been welling up to roll down my cheeks.
“No, it’s not,” I whisper.
He hums. “It is, Clara. You’ll see, it’ll be okay.”
I don’t believe him because I know that once anyone gets ahold of who he is, that video picture, whatever they took, is going to go viral, and that will expose who I am, then shit is going to hit the fan, and everything is going to change.