Chapter 10
Lyzander Corbit
My phone rings in my pocket as we walk towards the sorority house. Taking it out, I see it’s my dad and I press the green button.
“Hey, Pops. What’s up?”
“Nothing, just checking in. I know it’s late but I just got off the plane and figured I’d see how tonight’s game went.”
“We won! First game of the year. Now I’m on my way with some of the guys from the team to a sorority party,” I tell him, and he laughs.
“Atta boy. Congrats on the win. Before I let you go, I’d really like it if you came home for Thanksgiving,” he says, and I smile.
“I’m coming home, Pops. Don’t worry. Remember, I have a girlfriend and I’m pretty sure she’d be pissed if I didn’t come home,” I say, but he clears his throat as I hear commotion in the background.
“Yeah, sorry, son. I forgot about that girl. Anyways, I gotta run and get my luggage. Talk soon.”
“Have a good night, Pops,” I say and the line goes dead. Putting my phone back in my pocket, Trent hands me the bottle we’ve been pregaming with.
“Anyone wanna smoke on this?” Max shouts, passing the joint to me. Fuck!
“We aren’t supposed to be smoking. What if Coach tests us,” I state, and they laugh like they know something I don’t.
“It’s not real weed. It's synthetic and won’t come up on a drug test. Trust me,” he says, and I nod, taking it from him. Just as I bring it to my lips, Bash nudges me and shakes his head.
“Don’t do it,” he warns, and I laugh.
“Oh, he speaks more than one word. Fuck you!” I snide and take a hit off the prerolled then pass it back to Max. “What’s it called?” I ask, and he stops short to relight it.
“Nyxen.”
“Nice. It’s smooth as fuck. Damnnn, man,” I say. Bash storms off ahead of us, and I keep drinking as we walk. At this rate, I’ll be hammered before I step a foot inside the house. I don’t care though, nothing can sour my mood. We fucking won and that alone is something to celebrate.
“What’s his problem?” Trent asks, nudging me, but his eyes are on the back of Bash’s head.
“Beats me. But he’s walking around like he has a stick up his ass.
” I laugh, and he turns around, flipping me off.
I take another swig from the bottle then pass it off to Trent, who hands me the prerolled.
I bring it to my lips, pulling on it, then run up to Bash and blow smoke in his face.
He side-eyes me and snarls but doesn’t say a word. What the fuck is up with him?
We all finally make it to the sorority house and the party is in full swing.
Solo cups litter the lawn, girls and guys stumble along the path laughing.
I just keep walking and take it all in. This is what college is all about.
The girls and the parties. Rubbing my hands together, we go inside, and Bash immediately takes off.
I roll my eyes and head for the bar. This house is fucking huge—so much bigger then that frat house.
What I didn’t realize was that tonight is a memorial for one of the sorority girls that died not too long ago.
I thought it was a red light party. What the hell?
Grabbing a few red shots from the bar, I throw them back then walk around, getting a feel of the place.
There’s so many people here. Trent told me that Delta Phi Nu throws the best parties but I severely underestimated his information.
Walking down the hall, I follow a few other people who enter the ballroom.
Girls hang around the room in cages, dancing half naked in them.
The room is dimly lit a deep red with canopies of red silk that drape the high ceiling and black curtains over all the windows and doors.
Along the back walls are shelves of different sex toys along with a bunch of canopy beds spaced out in the middle of the room, each one covered in black sheer lace for privacy.
There’s so many activities to choose from, including poker tables. This is fucking insane.
Times like these I wish I wasn’t so fucking afraid to be who I want to be in public because I’d be dragging Bash’s ass in here kicking and screaming. If I want to experience a night in here, it would be with him and him only.
Walking further into the room, I head for the bar and order a drink.
Sipping on my redbull and vodka, I notice Bash across the room, talking to some girl.
I can’t help but stare, wishing I could just walk over to him, take him to one of those beds, and have a night together, but that’s not realistic for us. Not now at least. I’m not sure if ever.
Snarling, I look away and decide this isn’t where I want to be tonight.
If I can’t have him, then there’s no point.
Might as well go find the guys and play some beer pong or something.
I’m supposed to be celebrating but my mind keeps going back to him.
I finish off my drink and leave my glass on the bar.
Walking past the cages, I notice some guy who looks oddly familiar getting a lap dance from some blonde in a red dress.
Where the hell do I know him from? Then it dawns on me.
He’s the quarterback at St. Vincent’s—Oliver Michaels.
A real tool if you ask me, but I keep going, and as I walk out, I hear Bash calling my name.
I smirk but ignore him as I walk down the dimly lit hallway.
“Zan, wait up,” he shouts, but I still continue to ignore him until he shoves me and I stumble a bit. I spin on him and he gets in my face, but I take a step back. “We need to talk,” he states, and I laugh.
“Tonight is not the night for this shit. Go have fun,” I say, dismissing him, but he grabs me and pushes me against the wall then looks up and down the hall before slamming his lips against mine. I freeze for a second then push him off. “Are you fucking nuts?” I growl, and he shrugs.
“Maybe.” He grins, looking around again then pressing into me. I shove him off again and narrow my eyes at him.
“We can’t fucking do this here!” I spit, and he huffs.
“Why? You afraid of getting caught?” he challenges, and I take a deep breath.
He doesn’t understand how bad I want him tonight.
How desperately I want to celebrate with him.
Despite my shitty behavior, I always want everything with him.
Suddenly, the door opens behind me and he jumps back as a few girls come out and walk the rest of the way down the hall.
I look into the room they came out of and see it’s a bathroom, then look back at Bash, who is already shoving me into it.
I move backwards, trying not to fall as all the liquor I’ve drank tonight is finally flowing through my system and the room spins a bit.
He steps in, shutting the door behind him and hitting the lock.
We stand there for a moment, both heaving as we stare at one another.
All the words that need to be said can wait, but right now, all I see and feel is the carnal urge to please each other, so I take a step towards him as he walks over to me.
He cups my face as I grip his hips. “I want you, Zan. I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, and I lick my lips.
“What do you want, Buttercup? Use your words and tell me,” I command as he presses his soft lips against mine. We both groan as our tongues fight for dominance. I dig my fingertips into his ribs then slide them over his abs to his jeans and pop the button. He pulls away, looking into my eyes.
“I want you to make me cum hard and fast, but…” He trails off, and I raise a brow.
“But…” I say, and he takes a deep breath when my hand slides into his boxers, gripping his hard cock, pumping it.
“Later, when we get back to our room, I want to feel you stretch me. Do you think you can do that?” he pants. Fuck, my cock is so fucking hard hearing those words.
“Mmm. Yes, Buttercup. I can do that for you,” I groan as his hands dig into my chest.
“Fuck, I miss the way you feel. Just thinking about you inside me makes me want to cum already,” he whimpers as I run the tip of my tongue along his throat, flicking it against his Adam's apple.
“You wouldn’t have had to miss anything if you didn’t leave me,” I growl, swiping my thumb over his leaking tip.
“W-what? I didn’t leave. I came back,” he pants, and I laugh.
“Liar, you left me with that bullshit note. What did it say, oh ‘I’m sorry’ and nothing more,” I spit, and he shoves me away.
“Ya know. You’re such a fucking asshole.
You can never just be in the fucking moment with me.
You always fucking ruin it,” he snaps, buttoning his jeans and leaving the bathroom.
Nope. Not fucking happening. I adjust my cock, trying to hide how fucking hard I am.
Shit. I need a fucking moment. Fuck. After a few minutes, my nerves settle down and I walk out in search of him.
I check the ballroom then the main house. I spot Trent and walk over to him.
“You seen, Vos?” I ask, and he nods to the front door.
“Yeah, he left. Said he didn’t feel good. What a wimp.” He laughs, and I chuckle.
“Alright. I just need to make sure he gets back okay. See you later, man,” I tell him, and he fists bumps me then I leave out the front door, hoping I can catch up to him.
Getting onto the street, I don’t see him anywhere.
What the fuck? Did he run back to the school, like Jesus Christ?
I start jogging towards the school and still see no sign of him.
Pulling the doors open, I take the stairs two at a time to our floor.
Swinging the door open, the room is pitch black.
I turn on the light and the room is empty.
What the fuck? Where the hell did he go?
Sighing, I plop down on my bed and wait, because one way or another he has to come back here, so I’ll just wait for him.
There’s nothing else I can fucking do. I thought maybe by reminding him of what he did he would give me a real answer as to why he left the way he did, but instead, he left me again without being any closer to getting what I need the most. Fuck!