5. Mallory
CHAPTER 5
Mallory
I shiver, crossing my arms over my chest as I walk outside, debating whether to turn around and grab a jacket. It’s much cooler up here in the mountains of Stone Ridge, warning me that summer is ending and fall is near.
I keep moving, deciding against the jacket. My pace is brisk as I think about the events of the past few months. I’m glad to be on campus instead of being controlled by my parents.
They spent the past three months dragging me around the country, setting me up with one handsome actor after another in their quest to convince me to give up my dreams of going to college. They insist I should follow in their footsteps and join the Hollywood elite. But there’s nothing that excites me less than that world.
My mom never understood my disinterest in the actors she set me up with. She was appalled that I love men with tattoos and a bad boy vibe.
Sure, I’ve had sex with a few actors, but I didn’t enjoy it. Either my peers were exaggerating about how great it was, or I was with the wrong men. The only thing they cared about was getting themselves off and to hell with me. The number of times I finished myself off with my fingers or a vibrator made me want to stay home, read an erotic novel, and use my toys instead.
A wicked smile curls my lips. Or touch myself to one of the masked man thirst traps I follow on social media. I can’t wait for spooky season when they come out in full force.
There’s one I recently discovered who’s my favorite. He wears a red purge mask, and his lean body is packed with muscle. The tattoos on his chest and arms are enough to make my pussy weep.
A shiver rolls through me as I picture bumping into the guy by the elevator earlier. The tattoos snaking from beneath his shirt made me drool. That man was hot.
I wonder if he’s a college student. Maybe I’ll see him on campus again. The thought sends a delicious shiver through my spine.
I shake my head, blowing out a breath as I head toward the dining hall. It doesn’t matter that tingles exploded through my body like a stick of dynamite when I touched his skin. I can’t be distracted by a pair of aquamarine eyes that stripped me bare. Even if he were single, we can’t be together.
If we started dating, he would eventually want to meet my parents. Once he does, he will be like all the others who pretend to like me to get closer to them.
My father is a director, and my mom played the leading role in a popular eight-season sitcom. Everyone knows them.
Because I refused to conform to my parent’s expectations, they minimized my exposure to the public eye.
Breathing deeply, the chilly air flows into my lungs, reminding me I’m no longer in my parent’s world.
You have one shot at this, Mallory. Don’t screw it up.