Chapter 20
EMMA
JUNIOR YEAR
After a summer full of babysitting, I’m excited to start the new school year, even though I’m going to miss spending time with Becka’s little girl Hallie. She is the sweetest, but has a lot of energy, just like my younger sisters Erin and Evie.
I also got to spend a lot of time with my sister Lizzy and was able to play some improv games with her.
It reinvigorated me, reassuring me that the path I’m on in my educational journey is the right one.
And my father took the news of my change in majors surprisingly well; it doesn’t hurt that I told him the day after he found out that my sister Ella was sexually active.
He was less concerned about my future in that moment.
My class load this year is packed full of theatre classes, and I’m really starting to enjoy this little community on campus.
They’re welcoming and accepting in a way I’ve yet to experience at this school.
The reason I chose theatre and not social work as my field of study was because the majority of the girls in social work aren’t actually interested in going into that field.
I found out after my freshman year that majoring in anything under the health science umbrella was code for looking for a husband.
These women don’t want a job after graduation; the building is next to the business school, and they’re actually looking for their MRS degree.
And the business guys are no better, looking for their perfect version of a Stepford wife while they network and make connections as future CEOs. And anyone that doesn’t fit their mold is labeled a black sheep, like us theatre kids.
I’m not even thinking about marriage at this point, and I have other goals for myself. I want to help people like Lizzy, give them a place where they belong and can thrive.
Growing up with a special needs sister, I’m used to being treated like an outsider.
Kids didn’t want to play with us at the park.
People would stare at us at the grocery store, especially when we forgot Lizzy’s headphones and the noises overwhelmed her.
But the worst was when we took Lizzy to a camp she’d been excited about.
It was just a regular summer camp, and my mom made sure they could accommodate Lizzy’s needs when she signed her up.
They assured her they could. But they couldn’t, or didn’t, I’m not really sure.
When we went up to visit her on family day, I got so mad at how she was being treated. After I overheard a counselor talking badly about her, I got in her face, yelling and shouting, and I let fly a curse word—and not just any curse, the worst freaking one. Lizzy had a huge meltdown because of it.
Initially I thought all the yelling and noise had upset her because of her auditory processing issues.
I asked her a bunch of yes or no questions to try to get to the bottom of it.
When I asked her if it was my cursing that upset her, she nodded her head emphatically.
Ever since then, I’ve gotten creative with the way I curse, choosing not to use the words that upset her, even when she’s not around.
After that experience at the camp, I wanted to find other places that would offer Lizzy similar experiences while also meeting her needs.
We found Camp New Hope, and Lizzy’s been going ever since.
She found a community that supports her, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’ve found mine on campus.
I let a few new friends talk me into going to a frat party, and we agreed to meet in the quad and walk over together. Rylee and Megan have been very sweet, and even though I’m not that enthused about the party, I’m excited to spend time with them.
“The guys in this frat are so hot.” Rylee links her arm in mine during the short walk across campus.
“I heard they throw the best parties,” Megan adds.
“I thought it was a dry campus, being that it’s a Christian school and all?” I ask, confused.
“Frat Row isn’t actually on campus, so that’s how they get around the university rules.
Back in the fifties, a bunch for fraternities bought up houses that backed up to the college.
Eventually they paved footpaths to connect it to campus, but their addresses technically make them off-campus,” Rylee explains.
“I’ve never been to a frat party,” I admit.
“Girl, seriously? You’re a junior. How have you never been to a frat party?”
“I dunno,” I say, suddenly self-conscious. Actually, I do know. I spent most of my freshman year with my nose in a book, and my sophomore year trying to get a certain dom to pay more attention to me, and a certain professor to pay less.
“Well, we got you,” Megan says. “If you start to feel uncomfortable, just scratch your nose and we’ll leave. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say on an exhale. I’ve opened up to them about some of my issues with touch, and Megan suggested we come up with a code to communicate with each other in situations like these. It suddenly reminds me of having a safe word with Daddy Dom.
Nope. Not going to think about him and mess up my mascara. I’ve been doing so well. Frick.
Rylee must sense the change in me, and she stops walking. “Emma, what’s wrong?”
I look up at the sky, blinking rapidly, hoping the cool fall air will stop the tears threatening to spill out of my eyes. “Sorry, something just reminded me of someone and—” I cut myself off from saying more, realizing I haven’t told them anything about Daddy Dom.
“Do you need a minute?” Megan asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glance at her hand. “Sorry, is this okay?” she asks, suddenly pulling it back.
“It’s fine. The touch thing is just with men. I think? Actually, I’m not sure. It could be anyone trying to get in my pants.” I’m rambling, my nerves getting the better of me.
“You’re hot, but you’re not my type, so I’m not trying to get all up in that,” Megan says, waving a hand in front of my crotch.
We burst into laughter.
“Thanks, I needed that,” I say, swiping a finger under my eye.
“Anytime. Comedic relief is my specialty,” Megan says, laughing.
Rylee turns to me, drawing my focus. “We don’t have to go to this party if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” I assure her. “I want to have normal college experiences. Go to parties, have a drink, all that. I don’t want this hang up preventing me from living my life.”
“Maybe it’s like Cinderella!” Megan squeals. “You have to try on a bunch of shoes until you find the one that fits. You just have to let a bunch of guys touch you till you find the one that doesn’t make you want to throat-punch someone.”
“Cinderella didn’t try on a bunch of shoes, just the one. The prince had to go through a bunch of women before he found her. Totally not the same,” Rylee says.
“Close enough,” Megan chirps.
“Also, you do realize that in this scenario you’re suggesting our friend let a bunch of randos touch her?” Rylee adds.
“Metaphorically, not literally.” Megan groans.
“Do we need to go over the definition of those words again?”
Their banter always makes me laugh, and I’m thankful for the distraction. “I want to go, and I’m fine. I’ll scratch my nose if I get uncomfortable, but I’m not trying on any shoes tonight.”
We resume our walk to the frat house, but as soon as we are inside, I get a bad feeling. The vibes are off, but I shove it aside not wanting to ruin the night for my friends. I just made this big speech, and I want to show them that I can do this. I can handle hard situations.
I make my way to the kitchen to grab us drinks, and when I return to the living room, I can’t find my friends among the crowd of people.
They were just here. I continue moving through the house on my search.
They wouldn’t just abandon me, but there are more people here than I thought there’d be, and my anxiety is making it feel like the walls are closing in on me.
The door to the deck is propped open, and I step outside, my hands full with our drinks. I hear voices below, so I walk down the steps to the patio but it’s empty.
“Is this the infamous Emma?” a voice behind me asks.
When I whip around, I’m face-to-face with the guy that knocked me down when I was opening the door to Professor A-hole’s classroom last year.
“How do you know my name?” I ask nervously.
“Oh, you’re famous around here.” He circles me like a shark about to devour its prey.
He comes up behind me, getting close to my ear. I can feel his hot breath on my neck as he speaks, and a chill runs down my spine.
“Wanna go upstairs? I’ll make it really good for you.
I don’t even care if you bleed on my sheets.
” He snakes a hand around my waist, covering my stomach as he pulls me against him.
Bile rises in my gut, and my heart rate increases when I feel his erection press against me.
I need to get out of here. My elbow connects with his gut as I throw the drinks behind me and run.
“Come back here, you little bitch.”
I take off around the corner of the house, running as fast as I can to get away from him. I can hear him shouting behind me, but I ignore it, squeezing my fingers into my palm, balling them into a fist as I pump my arms and legs harder, scaling the slight incline to make it around the house.
“Hey! Whoa, man, chill the fuck out, it’s not what it—” His voice is cut off, and I run faster, taking a shortcut to the path back to student apartments.
I burst inside my front door, slamming it behind me and leaning up against it. I’m out of breath and panting as I pull out my phone. The adrenaline coursing through me makes it difficult to type, and I force myself to take several deep breaths to still my shaking hands.
Megan
Where are you?
Rylee
Where did you go?
Are you okay?
Megan
OMG someone just said they saw you take off running. What happened?
Can you guys come to my apartment? I had to get out of there.
Ten minutes later, Megan and Rylee are on my couch and I’m filling them in on what happened at the party.
Rylee sits next to me, concern etched in the lines of her face. “Megan and I left you alone for two minutes while you got drinks. It’s not like we abandoned you, this is crazy. We always stick together. I feel like shit about it.”
“There were way too many people in that house,” Megan says.
“It’s not your fault.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “This is just my luck anyway. But now I know frat parties aren’t for me.”
“Yeah, you definitely weren’t going to find your Prince Charming at that one, Cinderella,” Megan quips.
Rylee places a hand on mine, drawing my focus back to her. “So after that guy came up on you and you took off, what happened?”
“I came back here. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“Well, I hope he gets what’s coming to him,” Megan says.
——————
John
It’s late, and I should have gone home hours ago, but grading papers is a welcome distraction.
None of this year’s students are as promising as a certain blonde that I still can’t seem to rid from my thoughts.
As I scroll through essays on my computer, my frustration grows.
It’s getting harder to find anyone not using AI to write their work for them.
Doesn’t anyone think for themselves anymore?
A noise from the quad distracts me, and my head swings in that direction where I see a small group of female students congregating right outside my window.
They look like they’re dressed to attend a party, and I wonder which frat house they’re headed to when I spot Emma.
Blood rushes to every part of my body, my ears, my face, and my dick.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I try to process the flood of emotions hitting me.
Anger, longing, and sorrow overwhelm me as I push away from my desk.
Where the fuck is my sub going dressed like that?
Except she’s not mine. I was the one who ended things, pushed her away. I need to let her go. It was what was best for both of us. I have to be in control of this situation. I’m not in a place to get involved with anyone, even if I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.
I should just stay focused on my work, but when I heard her laugh and saw her in that tight little dress from my office window, I knew I was fucked. There’s no way I’m going to concentrate when she’s dressed like that. My siren is calling to me, and she doesn’t even know it.
Minutes later, I’m out of my office and following them across campus. My earlier suspicions confirmed when I watch them walk into the frat house.
It’s killing me not knowing what’s going on inside of that house. What is she doing here anyway? And since when are frat parties her scene?
Following along the tree line at the edge of the property, I cling to the shadows like a creep.
Even though it’s not nearly cold enough yet, I grabbed a hoodie on my way out of my office, and I tighten it around my face, praying no one sees or recognizes me.
What the fuck am I doing? So I’m not only willing to break rules for her, but I’m also willing to break the law too?
Just when my common sense returns and I’m ready to leave, I hear voices on the patio and see her, watching as some asshole comes up behind her and she elbows him, throwing her cups in the process.
When he chases her, I lose my shit, taking off after him and catching him near the side of the house. I pull him into the woods, grabbing him from behind so he can’t see my face while he prattles on. I lock my arms around his neck, holding him in place and cutting off his words.
“What did you do to her?” I growl close to his ear, my teeth grinding in anger.
“Nothing, man, we were just having a little fun. She was into it.” He desperately claws at my arms.
“I can assure you she was not, you pathetic fuck.”
I let go of his neck with one hand and punch him in the side.
He doubles over in pain and falls to the ground.
I kick the spot I just punched, and he curls into himself.
Stepping back so he doesn’t see my face, I take off in the direction she left, keeping to the woods so I don’t draw attention.
When I see her enter her apartment, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I really am living up to her old nickname for me. Slinking through the darkness like a vigilante to slay her demons. What the fuck is wrong with me?