6. Clayton
Clayton
Grabbing my backpack, I open it and scan through to make sure I have all of my textbooks and notebooks that I need for the study group.
I don’t need any help with studying, but I’m going to see if anyone else does. The flyers were hanging on the bulletin board in the main foyer of the dorms, and I make sure to check them daily in case there is important information.
Helping people is my thing.
I grab the little piece of paper that was hanging off the flyer with the location.
I have to go across campus, but it’s not a big deal because it’s a beautiful night outside.
Not too warm and with the wind, there is just the right amount of a breeze.
The type that might give you the chill, but it’ll settle, and you get this comfortable feeling of warmth when it passes.
Pulling my bag tighter to my body, I make way toward the dining hall. It’s normal to have study groups there so we can be louder than in the library. Plus, tables are already set up, making it an easy place to be.
The walk over is nice. Quiet and peaceful. Nothing but the sound of crickets and other insects chirping and squeaking.
I love this time of year. When it’s not quite summer, but winter is over. Not that winter matters much in Florida.
Unfortunately, that good mood I have turns sour instantly when I step into the dining hall. The tables are gone, and no one is studying.
Instead, music is blasting, people are dancing, and the face that greets me has my knuckles tightening around my bag straps.
Maxwell Levine.
“Hey, pretty boy,” he drawls. His tone is full of banter and a hint of something else I can’t quite place.
I turn around to walk away, but he grabs onto me. “Ah, ah, not so fast. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m meant to be with a study group. They must have put the wrong location.”
“Nope. It was a trick. I wanted you here and knew you wouldn’t come to a party.”
“Great. I’m here, and now I’m leaving. Goodnight,” I snap, but there’s no weight to my words.
“No,” the word sounds more like a growl than anything else. More animal than human. Patience, had he ever had any? Gone.
“Last time you forced me somewhere, my guts landed on the ground. I’m not falling for another one of your tricks.” I say, reminding myself of the few days ago he’d forced me onto his bike.
Oh, who am I kidding? I could have left. Could have walked away from that bike, and if I really fought, he wouldn’t have been able to stop me.
Maybe something was keeping me from walking away.
Maybe I’m curious.
Maxwell pulls me into the dining hall and lets the door slam behind me. It makes me jolt. Nervousness runs through me, and I’m not sure what for because we aren’t alone. There are at least a hundred people shoved into the room.
He can’t do anything to me here.
The dining hall is dark except for the strobe lights flickering. Bodies close to each other. Boys and girls grinding and dancing on one another. Drinks in hand. Smoke– from a fog machine hidden somewhere in here– lingers around the room, casting shadows in all directions.
Not my crowd. Not my crowd at all. My hands grow clammy, sweat beading at my forehead. This is putting me in a very bad place.
Maxwell pulls me through the crowds. People greet him like he owns the place. Like this very room belongs to him and no one else. He carries himself in a way that I envy, and it makes me even more pissed.
Maybe I don’t hate him for who he is, but for who I can’t be. My brain isn’t wired this way. Not anymore, anyhow. Being in here, watching people drink and smoke and laugh and having a good time makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
I have things to do, a life to plan, and I don’t have time for anything to get in the way of that. Not to mention, parties bring up a bad past for me. One that I’m trying to leave in the dark. A special place locked away in my brain for things I try not to think about.
We come up to a table. A guy with a blonde buzz cut, pale skin, and dark eyes looks up at me.
A subtle smirk crossed his face. To his left, a light-skinned guy is there with a blond girl curled up on his lap.
When he looks at me, his eyes are so blue they look almost see-through in the dim lighting.
It’s eerie and almost a little haunting.
“This is Maverick,” Maxwell says, pointing to the blonde. “This is Dax,” he adds, pointing to the light-skinned one. “And this is Mae," he finishes and points to the girl on Dax's lap.
“Hi.” I squeak, waving my hand and then pushing up my glasses, because I need to do something to not feel so awkward.
A bottle lies on its side in the middle of the table.
Someone comes over with a tray, carrying several small shot glasses, and places them all down on the table. Maxwell sits at an empty seat and motions for the one next to him for me to sit.
I should run, but instead, I pull the chair out and sit down despite the shaking of my hands.
“We’re gonna play a game,” Maxwell announces. “It’s my favorite game.”
I listen to him talk, but I don’t respond. I have a strong feeling I already know the exact game he’s going to say.
“Truth or dare.”
This is fine. It’s definitely not the game I was thinking with the bottle lying on the table. It’s probably just from one of them finishing a drink and knocking it over.
I thought this was going in a completely different direction.
“We play a little differently. There are some rules,” Maverick says. “You can only play truth three times in a row before you have to do a dare. You can only skip a dare twice before you have to do every dare after.” He smirks, not in general, but straight at me.
His eyes burn holes into my skin, and I have a feeling I’m not going to like wherever this is going.
Maverick's head turns to Dax, and he asks him. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Dax drawls. The blonde in his lap sends googly eyes his way.
“Is it true you want to bang my sister?” Maverick nods his head to the girl. Oh. OH.
She is his sister. Makes sense. I noticed a resemblance, but I thought it was just a coincidence.
“I plead the fifth,” Dax says. His voice is deep. The kind of depth that throws you off because you never expect someone's voice to be so low.
Maverick's face changes from that calm and collected look to anger. Fire roars in his eyes, but he doesn't move. His sister smirks at him and winks.
“Oh, there's gonna be murder tonight,” Maxwell jests, laughing. The sound does something to me. Stirs my belly and makes my ears tingle. Everything I shouldn't feel, but do.
Dax ignores the eyes on him, taking his turn. “Truth or dare, Clayton?”
I froze for a moment. “Truth.” This is a group of boys who do dares for a living. I’m going to use up all my truths before I have to think about touching a dare.
“What is your wildest fantasy?” I contemplate skipping the question to avoid the embarrassment of my answer.
“I don’t have one.”
“Bull, everyone has one.” Maverick chips in.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” I shrug my shoulders. Wild fantasies haven’t crossed my mind because sex isn’t something that I think about much. Not anymore. Not since that night.
“Not once?” Dax adds. “You’ve never wanted to take a trip to Paris or lick some whipped cream off someone’s cock?”
I blink at him, eyes wide, face flushed red with embarrassment.
“Or maybe some role-playing? You are the teacher’s pet or something,” Maverick shrugs.
I rise to my feet, ready to leave this conversation so far behind me, but Maxwell reaches out to pull me back into my seat.
“Enough. Leave him alone. He answered your fucking question,” his voice is sharp towards his friends. When he turns to me and speaks, it’s more gentle. “Your turn, pretty boy.”
I ponder for a moment on who I want to ask, planning in my head a dare and truth that I could easily give to these people that I’m not too familiar with.
“Mae, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she smiles widely at me with pearly white teeth. Now that she’s looking at me, I can see how much she looks like her brother. The perfect female version of him.
“Is it true that you’re going to let your brother’s best friend bang you?”
She giggles, wiggling her ass over Dax. Maverick growls at me. Dax and Maxwell both burst out in laughter.
“What we do behind closed doors is none of Mavvy’s business,” she replies.
We continue back and forth, going in circles with mostly truths. I’m surprised that Maxwell hasn’t chosen to do a dare in the hour that passes, considering his nature. Until now, he picks dare.
“Max, I dare you to make out with Clayton,” Maverick says.
Surely, he isn’t going to kiss me. Maxwell doesn’t swing that way.
His head turns to me, and mine turns to his. A smirk forms along his lips, and more heat rushes to my cheeks. Turning back away, I look at his friends. If I don’t look at him, the rejection won’t be so bad.
It’s not that I want to kiss him, but regardless, rejection hurts.
To my surprise, he grips my chin and turns my head toward him, lips meeting mine, and for a moment, I’m too stunned to do anything.
My eyes are wide open while his are closed. He leans in closer to me, killing any space left between us. His hand rests against my neck, his thumb rubbing over my jaw, and I break.
I sink into the kiss, closing my eyes, and giving everything he is giving to me back.
Instead of mentally beating myself up like I expected, I fell closer into him. Chests touching. Ignoring everyone else sitting besides us. My cock grows hard just from feeling his mouth on mine.
I’m allowing this one thing for me. For us. Because when I leave here tonight, I’m not sure that I can ever look at Maxwell again.
He’s kissing me like a guy is all he wants, but this is just a dare. This is just alcohol thrumming through his veins.
I’m just a kid from Anatomy. A nerd. Nobody.
Clayton Reeves is not the one for Maxwell Levine.
Maxwell
When our lips part, I feel like I can’t catch my breath. It’s running and flying away from me. My chest rising and falling like it is its job. My lips tingle and feel like they’re on fire, my stomach fluttering away to who the fuck knows where.
I know what Maverick was trying to do. He was trying to see if I’d break. If this is what would stop me from fulfilling the original plan, but it won’t.
I told them I would do what it takes, even if Clayton isn’t my type, but if that is the case, why is my heart beating so hard?
Clayton is looking at me like I’m holding the world on my shoulders.
His eyes light up with a sparkle that isn’t usually there.
Anytime we have passed by on campus. Anytime that we have been near each other in class.
That glint of something special? It’s never been there, and it’s never been there, especially towards me.
God, I’m fucked. I’m so royally fucked.
“Well, that was a show,” Dax says, his voice muffled. My heart is racing so hard that I could barely hear his voice over the echoing beat.
“I have to go,” Clayton says, rising abruptly as he shoves his fist against his crotch.
I didn't make him stay this time. I let him go.