Chapter 8 – Kat
EIGHT
KAT
As we head back inside the fraternity house, Elijah beelines for Tanner, presumably to tell him that he will be walking me home. Tanner responds, but I’m not close enough to hear him. However, I do notice the way he stares at me as Elijah walks toward me. He looks irritated—I wonder if it’s because Elijah is essentially leaving him to deal with the chaos of the party alone. It’s barely 1:00 AM and it will more than likely keep going for some time unless the cops show up.
When Elijah approaches me, I look away from Tanner and see an infectious grin plastered on his lips.
“Let’s go,” he says, placing his hand against the small of my back and guiding me toward the front door.
“You’re a junior, right?” he asks just as we’re making our way past the “K.” “Why do you stay in the dorms? I mean, you could live off campus.”
“We thought about it—we actually even looked at apartments…but the convenience of being on campus outweighed anything else, really.” Finances were the main re ason living on campus made more sense, but I don’t mention that. Being the son of a governor, I can’t imagine Elijah has had a single financial struggle in his life, so I worry that my qualms might fall on deaf ears.
“That makes sense.” He nods, not prying any further.
We walk in comfortable silence until we finally reach Beall-McDowell, the middle section that houses the mailroom a ghost town save for the student employee sitting behind the counter.
“Hey, Kat!” Rochelle waves as we walk in, barely acknowledging Elijah as he trails by my side.
“Hey, Rochelle! Any chaos yet for welcome weekend?”
“Not yet, it’s definitely better than when I worked in Eastway.”
The Eastway Center is across the street from Beall-McDowell and houses the most freshmen in one place on campus. It is home to four freshman-only dorm buildings and it is where I lived freshman year, as well as where I met Jenna.
It is also pure chaos during welcome weekend.
Freshly minted eighteen-year-olds flexing their freedom for the first time is never pretty, so I feel for Rochelle in that respect.
“Yeah, that sounds awful,” I laugh.
As we pass the polished wooden counter and the generic common area with uncomfortable couches, I let out a sigh of exhaustion. We enter the elevator, and I press the “8” button before leaning against the cool metal wall.
It isn’t until the elevator almost reaches my floor that I realize Elijah didn’t leave once we got to the lobby. If he were any other man, I’d make a remark about it, assuming and all that. However, in this moment I kind of want him to assume. I would thoroughly like for him to come back to my room, despite the fact that we just met and we haven’t so much as been on a date.
“Awfully presumptuous of you to come upstairs, no?” I look up at him with a stern expression that quickly melts into a grin.
“What are you implying, Katarina? I am nothing but a gentleman.” He winks with a smile just before the door opens on my floor. He stands there, clearly taking what I said more to heart than I intended.
I turn around, my feet flush with the low-pile carpet in the hallway as he lingers in the metal enclosure.
“Are you coming?” I laugh.
“Do you want me to?”
I pause before I say, “Yes.”
Then, as we’re standing in front of my bedroom door, I start to feel the effects of the concoction of liquor.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he presses his hand to my back again, goosebumps peppering my arms at the touch.
“Yeah, just finally feeling the Jungle Juice a bit.”
“Are you sure we should…”
“I’m tipsy, not wasted… Come here.” I swipe my card and push the door open in one motion, pulling him into my dorm room by the hem of his shirt. Elijah follows as the door clicks shut behind us.
Within an instant, he is on me like a fly on honey, my back flush with the cold wall as his lips press against mine, the hoppy flavor of the beer on his tongue pushing me further into the abyss.
As he trails kisses down my neck, his tongue swirls and caresses the sensitive spot below my ear that always sends shivers down my spine. I feel lightheaded as he lifts me off the ground, effortlessly carrying my weight and pressing me against the wall. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as our bodies mold together, the heaving in my chest matched only by his own as we both struggle to find stability in a situation that offers anything but.
He shifts my weight off of the wall as he moves me toward my bed. I’ve never been more thankful that Jenna and I have separate bedrooms than I am right now, but then again, she said she wasn’t coming home, so it really shouldn’t matter.
The moment my back hits the soft cotton of my duvet, I look up at him. His intense gaze holds mine, sending shivers down my spine and setting my skin ablaze.
I want to know what he’s thinking. Is he aware of who I am? Does he know how important we’ll become to one another?
My mind is racing a mile a minute, but everything melts into bliss as soon as his lips are on mine again—this time with far more intent than before.
Elijah’s tongue darts past my lips, caressing my own tongue. He tastes of beer and bad decisions, but in this moment, I can only think about the sensations coursing through my body and the desire for him to continue exploring me with his touch. While I know that taking things slow would be the smarter approach to yield a different result for us, all I can think about right now is the way his mouth feels as he engulfs me, leaving me a quivering mess at his disposal.
“Kat,” he mumbles, my name a near-gasp as it leaves his lips.
“Hm?” I say, reaching toward him, my hand brushing against a hard bulge in his jeans .
He gasps and quickly tilts downward to look at me, his face flushed with desire. My own body responds to the unmistakable proof of his arousal as I trace my fingers along its shape.
“Fuck,” he breathes. He reaches down and wraps his fingers around my hand. Tightening his grasp, he squeezes himself using my hand before releasing me, the lewd action sending a jolt of arousal to my core.
Elijah pushes me backward onto the bed, his body pressing into mine as he pins my hands above my head in a loose grip. I could free them if I wanted to, but his fingers wrapped around my wrists builds far more anticipation than I would expect.
His grip tightens as he trails a path of kisses down my neck, eliciting a soft moan. The roughness of his jaw tickles and teases my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine. His lips then focus on the spot just below my ear, where his tongue traces circles before nibbling on my earlobe.
“Elijah, please,” I whine, wanting him to touch me, fuck me—really anything at this point—a need building in my core unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
“Please what?” he presses, his voice dripping with playful challenge.
I feel my cheeks heat as I realize he wants me to say it out loud. I meet his gaze and see the mischievous glint in his eyes before mustering up the courage to say the words he’s been waiting for.
“Fuck me,” I whisper only inches from his lips.
He swiftly unzips his jeans, letting them fall to the ground in a heap. His boxer briefs are stretched taut against his body, revealing the outline of his aroused cock straining beneath the fabric.
Reaching down, he delves in the back pocket of his discarded jeans and pulls out a foil package. He throws it onto the bed next to me, the packet landing next to my head.
The scent of clean linen invades my senses as I melt into the comforter, Elijah falling on top of me once again. His lips crash into mine with the intensity of a starved man, and he bites my bottom lip just hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt.
Then he lifts himself up with one hand and uses the other to pull his boxer briefs down. While I don’t see him, I feel him as the hard, velvety skin brushes against my inner thigh.
Something in my expression must reveal my thoughts; he quirks a grin but doesn’t say anything. However, his eyes linger on me for a silent moment as if waiting for the go-ahead to proceed. The second he sees me nod in approval in the darkness, he reaches over and grabs the condom. He pulls it to his mouth, using his teeth to rip the foil with one swift motion.
Elijah pulls the latex condom out of its packaging before reaching down and sheathing himself entirely with ease. The condom is slick as he presses his cock against my entrance, my breath catching in my throat in anticipation.
I feel every inch as he slowly presses inside me, the foreign stretch bathing me in a combination of mild pain and a far more intense, growing wave of pleasure. The moment he is buried to the hilt, he nuzzles his face in my neck.
A joke bristles on the tip of my tongue, but it dies as he starts tepidly moving in and out of me. Pleasing friction catapults me into a euphoric abyss, causing a quiet moan to spill past my lips, which only seems to urge Elijah forward as his pace begins to quicken.
“Oh my god,” I moan loudly, earning a grunt of approval in response, right before he slams into me with far less restraint than before, shifting me further into complete and total oblivion.
The creaking of the old bedframe fills the air, mixing fluidly with the moans and grunts of pleasure as we move toward release—well, as he moves toward release. I’ve never really been able to orgasm with a partner, so I don’t even attempt to get myself there and neither does he.
It’s rushed, it’s frenzied, but it’s also all-consuming and feels terrifyingly like the stars are aligning.
Elijah and me.
Me and Elijah.
As it was always meant to be.
Light blares through my dorm room window, the aggression of the early morning sun shooting daggers through my temples. My mouth is dry and all I can think about is getting over to my mini fridge to find a bottle of water. I jerk up in bed, only to realize that there is a strong, muscular arm draped over my midsection.
It takes me no more than a couple of seconds to come back down to reality and realize that it’s Elijah.
My Elijah.
As if he could feel me stirring, Elijah’s eyes flutter open. A hazy grin plasters across his lips almost instantly.
“Hey, you,” he says as his lips pull into a full smile, his eyes meeting my own.
“Good morning.” I smile down at him. The sight of him shirtless in my bed does nothing to help the dryness in my mouth. “I need to grab a bottle of water,” I say, tapping his arm.
“Okay,” he mumbles, squeezing me around my middle before pulling his arm away, giving me the room I need to get out of bed.
My room is an atrocious mess, clothing haphazardly thrown around and only about half of it from the night before. I’ve never been a big fan of cleaning; my messiness always drove my mom nuts when I was at home.
“Do you want one?” I ask as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, the frosty coating on the plastic biting into my palm.
“Yeah, sure,” he says.
I walk toward him, almost tripping on my rug, which is bunched around the bed. When I hand Elijah the water bottle, he doesn’t hesitate to grab it from me, chugging over half of it down in a matter of seconds.
I take three large gulps of my own before setting it on the corner of my desk.
“Do you have any big plans today?” I ask, awkwardly shuffling my feet.
“Nah.” He doesn’t elaborate, but I try not to be difficult.
Silence descends as I try to think of what to say, seeming to stretch on forever.
Elijah either thinks of something to say or finally realizes the silence is uncomfortable, and finally asks, “Do you?”
“Not really,” I laugh. “I doubt I will see Jenna until later tonight. I’m sure her and Marcus are going to do something.”
“Yeah, what’s going on there?”
I pause for a moment before speaking with a laugh. “I actually don’t know—they just met. But I don’t know, I could see it being something.”
“You get all of that from a couple of days of them fucking?” he laughs.
I roll my eyes. “Well, no, but it could be. I mean, anything could be. Statistically, a lot of people find their person in college.”
“True, but a lot of people also get chlamydia in college. Doesn’t mean we assume everybody has chlamydia.”
I know why he is saying this—at least, I think I do. I wish I didn’t, but what would be the point of going back in time if he was suddenly a different person?
The good with the bad.
The pessimist—but the one I’m supposed to end up with.
Anything different would be me trying to change him, and I don’t want to do that.
“So…would you like to?” I ask nervously.
“Like to what?”
“Would you like to do something later? I mean, since we’re both free.”
Why am I so nervous? I’m just asking someone to hang out, not proposing marriage.
Silence befalls us again and I think for a split second that he very well might turn me down. My stomach knots, causing me to reach for my water and gulping down half the bottle without hesitation.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks .
I wipe the moisture off my lips, a bit flustered. “Oh, uh…” I swallow. “We could go do something or we could just hang out…I’m cool with whatever.”
“Do you want to come over to the house?” he asks nonchalantly.
I struggle to maintain a calm facade, but my insides are in turmoil. I don’t want to seem too eager, but I can feel my voice betraying me with exaggerated enthusiasm as I reply, “Sounds good!”
I desperately want him to like me and I’m terrified that my efforts will backfire because I’m trying too hard.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk as he nods, but my stomach sinks as he stands and begins to pull on his pants.
“I’ll text you later, okay?”
I nod, knowing that if I open my mouth, I’m going to make an absolute idiot out of myself.
He kisses the top of my head far more casually than I feel right now before disappearing out my bedroom door.
Despite everything going exactly perfectly, I can’t help but wonder if I am still going to find a way to fuck it up.