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  “I’m coming, Jason, I’m coming,” I said, reaching up from the bed, to wrap my arms around him the way that my legs were already around him, pulling him tight as I felt the contractions on his shaft. “I’m coming.”

  “That’s right, baby, that’s right,” he said, making sure he kept thrusting into me, hard, and pressing into me with his fingers, knowing that if that was what had worked to get me to my current state, that if he continued, he could ensure that I kept orgasming for him.

  My folds squeezed him as hard as his fingers pressed into me, and I felt his dick start to throb, faster and faster, the veins pressing into me as well. The physical lines between Jason and I became blurrier because with each throb, it was like the two of us were like one person. With each throb, I felt him getting closer to a release, and felt myself getting closer to another as well. With each throb, I knew that Jason and I had something that we needed to figure out, that we needed to define, and that the two of us deserved a label, that we deserved something to describe our relationship.

  “Becca, I’m, I’m,” he started, before letting out a moan, and as he kept himself plunged inside of me, his shaft still throbbing as I felt the head of his cock start to quiver, I knew that he was going to have his own release.

  “I know, baby, I know,” I said, before I let out my own moan. The heat of his cum, which started to shoot up and into me, past my cervix, sent a shockwave through my body. It was as if I had been struck by white-hot lightning, our bodies now fused electrically as well as by the glues of our fluids. We were together, we were one, linked as we lay in the now sticky sheets that pooled around us like unending waves from some foreign ocean, an ocean that was thick and mysterious, like love itself.

  “Jason, I, I,” I started, but I couldn’t finish my sentence. I felt myself clench up again, the time for loosening and taking more cock past, the time for needing to hold onto Jason with all parts of my body, inside and out, required lest I float away, off the sheets, carried on the winds of pleasure.

  “I know, Becca, I can feel it,” he said with a moan, as he kept himself inside of me, as he started to thrust faster and faster with what remained of his erection, not about to let any part of my second orgasm go to waste. Jason pulled me close, locking his mouth onto my neck and biting down, harder than usual, and making me moan as I kept myself wrapped on his softening stiffness, until finally, all that was left was a feeling of pure bliss.

  We lay in the dark, holding each other, and drifted to sleep. Jason and I still hadn’t given what we had a name, but we’d given each other pleasures that nobody else could give us. Our dynamic wasn’t able to be replicated, the same way an artisan luxury good couldn’t be. As I closed my eyes for the last time that night, the only word I thought of was his name. Jason.

  Chapter Five:

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO THE HOUSE, the rest of the girls were finishing up breakfast. Kim took me aside, into the hall. “You haven’t been spending as much time with the sisters, now that you’ve been seeing so much of that bartender,” she said, clucking her tongue.

  I wanted to roll my eyes, to tell Kim off, to give her a piece of my mind for once, but I knew she was technically right. I’d been spending more and more time with Jason during my days off, and basically, I was using the sorority like a dorm, as if I was an RA who planned a few mixers and that was it. Mixer season was practically over now that the sorority was spending so much time at Club Grit, but every time I bailed to hang out with Jason, I missed things like late night Starbucks and McDonalds runs, like mooning the frats, like staying up late and watching the sun rise, sitting on the roof with the girls.

  “I’ll make plans, I swear. I’ll hang out with Sam more,” I said, knowing Sam was always up for a good time. She didn’t have a boyfriend or a job to occupy her spare time.

  “Not good enough. You aren’t involved with the freshman as much as you should be. Give her a hand with Emma, take her out with you two, shopping. Ask her about that bouncer while you’re at it. I don’t want her dating a boy like him.” Before I could say something, Kim left, but I thought to myself about what Kim meant by a “boy like him”. What kind of boy was she insinuating the bouncer was? Just because he had tattoos and a rougher style than Kim was used to didn’t mean she had to be a jerk about it.

  Especially seeing as we both knew her own secret.

  The rest of the week flew by quickly. I texted Jason a bit but I had to focus on school, with midterms coming up. That Friday afternoon, Sam and Emma and I walked down to Rodeo, just a few blocks from campus (like everything in Beverly Hills worth going to). We headed into the Bebe store before making a stop at a Christian Louboutin pop up boutique. On the way back, we stopped at a macaron and cupcake truck. We all ended up with an assortment of goodies. I ended up with glazed Belgian waffles and a powdered sugar doused cronut, plus, an Orangina. As I licked the different kinds of sugars off my lips, I couldn’t help but think about the mixed drinks that Jason made, with all kinds of sugars and salts on their rims, and as I drank the sour Orangina, I thought of the more classic cocktails he could concoct.

  Emma got a bunch of pastel colored macarons: light violet lavender, baby pink rosebud, sheer yellow yuzu fruit, as well as an orange syrup laden Italian soda made into a French crème soda, with whipped cream shaken in, glowing an opaque orange in just the light of the California sun. Samantha went for red velvet cake mini cupcakes and a pie pop: a literal pie on a lollipop stick, oozing blueberry goodness through the quilting, with a San Pellegrino grapefruit soda

  “Tell me about your date with Skylar!” asked Becca.

  “Long story short, it was not the greatest,” said Emma.

  “Nobody wants a short story. Tell all,” demanded Samantha.

  “Alright, so, he was cute as usual, but we didn’t really click. He talked more about himself than I expected and I guess that away from work, bouncers are just normal guys and I want something...more,” said Emma, but I could tell it was a lie. Something had probably gone wrong. “We took a pic.”

  The pic confirmed my suspicions. It was too posed, too artificial, not awkward enough. “You guys make such a cute couple...but if you’re not feeling it, I guess you’re just not feeling it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “You invited DeAndre tonight, right?” asked Samantha.

  “Wait. Wait. Wait...Kim let her invite DeAndre?” I was shocked. Sam knew as well as I did what DeAndre had done just a few weeks before.

  “Uh, yeah, why?” said Emma.

  “Well, you know DeAndre gets...handsy, right?” I didn’t want to put him on blast but Emma had a right to know what DeAndre was capable of.

  “Yeah, I know, I kinda got handsy back with him on Thursday, at Pub Night.” Emma had no idea how handsy he could get, though.

  “Oh, well, as long as you know,” said Samantha.

  I shot Sam a glare. “I’ve got to go,” I said, pulling out my phone. It was true. I did have something to deal with.

  I texted back Keanne.

  Chapter Six:

  IN THE LIMO, I didn’t want to sit near Emma. She was all over DeAndre and I had my own problem to deal with that night, texting Keanne. He’d been texting me back within minutes but I was still playing it cool, only answering a few hours after I received his texts, so he didn’t think I was as desperate for attention from him as I was. I’d missed him so much over the past school year that I didn’t want him to think that I was needy or clingy or any other word that a guy like him would attach to someone who showed emotion and affection.

  However, it was Keanne that had suggested we meet up sooner rather than later, that I accompany him on a trip to New York City. He said it’d be like old times and that he had something he wanted to discuss with me. Although my heart was pounding at the thought of Keanne asking me to get serious, to be his girlfriend, I didn’t tell anyone at the sorority about it, not even Kim or Sam, because I wanted to see how things in New York went first.

  As usual, we headed st
raight to the VIP, but as soon as the pledges were down on the dance floor and I’d had three shots of tequila, no salt, no lime, I took Kim aside with Sam. “I don’t know what the two of you are thinking, but you have to keep DeAndre away from the girls,” I said seriously.

  “What are you talking about?” said Sam, coyly.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I said. “There have been complaints from people about him getting too physical, pressuring girls into doing things they don’t want to do, and a few weeks ago, there was the attempted rape.”

  “Rape? That’s a strong word,” warned Kim.

  “Well, it’s the right word. What would you call it? He took a drunk pledge into the coat room, tried to undress her and have his way with her, and got caught. That’s somehow not rape now?” I asked rhetorically. “I thought the club president was going to talk to the pledge about pressing charges.”

  Of course, Sam had to try and weasel DeAndre out of it. “I’m sure he had a lot to drink too, and people do stupid things as freshman. Is it really worth ruining someone’s life over it? He’s just a freshman, and freshman make mistakes. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, unlike the pledges, DeAndre is seven foot two, weighs over two hundred and fifty pounds, and is mostly muscle. The damage he can cause them is more than what they can cause him, so try telling it to our pledge that it’s not a big deal, Sam,” I said sarcastically.

  “That pledge is no longer a member of Omega Mu Gamma,” said Kim, pointing to a black line on her clipboard that rendered a name unreadable.

  “So it’s come to this, Kim? You’re willing to protect a practical stranger over someone you know, even when the stranger is guilty, over the fact that “boys will be boys”?” I wanted to throw up, and not because of the alcohol.

  “No, it’s because with the opening of two new sororities this year, our incoming pledge class was not as competitive, in terms of wealth, as previous classes. A lot of the girls we picked have been exceedingly...mediocre. Middle-class. The few that are wealthy aren’t exactly generous. Their families didn’t get wealthy by being frivolous, and that’s what a sorority is seen as now: frivolous. Look around you, and tell me that’s not what we are,” challenged Kim. “What you don’t get is that we needed money, and that we had to borrow it, from the only people who had more this year, with the closing of another frat on campus. We borrowed from Beta Rho Omega, and in return, they have certain perks.”

  As it became all too clear what she was implying, I felt my stomach drop. “I wasn’t aware rape was a perk,” I said to Kim, and before she could retort, I headed down the stairs, too sick to think about the fact that the woman I’d thought was my best friend was willing to sell the flesh of unwilling others in exchange for saving face.

  I found Jason at his usual spot, and before he could even say hello, I asked him, “Jason, if you knew something, about someone, would you tell someone else about that person?”

  “Slow down, Becca. What?” asked Jason.

  I bit my lower lip as I rephrased it. “Let’s say I knew a secret about someone, a bad secret. That they’d hurt someone. Would it be up to me to tell someone about that secret?”

  “Do you think they’re a danger to that person?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then yes, of course.”

  I pulled out my phone and opened it up to Emma’s name, but before I pressed send on the message, I decided I had to tell her in person. Jason was making someone else a drink as I sat at the bar, peering over the crowd, looking for DeAndre, who would be tall even in this crowd. A tattooed bouncer came up to me. “Please. I don’t know where Emma is, can you help me?” he asked. Oh. It was Skylar, the guy that I’d encouraged Emma to go after a few nights ago.

  “Uh, sorry stalker, but I’m busy here?” I said with a roll of the eyes. I knew he wasn’t a stalker but any enemy of my sorority mate was an enemy of mine. “I’m actually looking for Emma myself.”

  “She left with DeAndre,” he said. I turned back to face him. He was stone cold serious and his face showed it: he knew about what DeAndre had done a few weeks ago, with the pledge, and now, Emma was with DeAndre somewhere, alone? This...this wasn’t okay.

  He pulled out his phone and opened it to the conversation timeline between him and Emma. The first messages I saw were pathetic. Skylar was begging Emma to come back inside:

  We need to talk. I get why you slapped me but please, come down.

  Emma, you can’t go out to see DeAndre.

  Emma, it’s Skylar, if you’re getting this, please answer, we need to talk, and talk-talk, not like the coffee shop.

  Emma, don’t leave.

  Emma, come back inside.

  EMMA. WHERE R U?

  EMMA.

  EMMA. HE DID IT.

  EMMA PLEASE.

  But after those? There was one message, three letters long:

  SOS

  From Emma.

  Shit.

  Emma, queen of the extended text message, the least concise person I knew, was sending just three letters, SOS? This wasn’t a pocket dial. We had to find her.

  “Let me text Kim,” I said, pulling out my iPhone, its brushed champagne metal cool against my hands which were starting to get clammy out of nervousness.

  “No, she’s not going to tell us where they are,” said Skylar desperately.

  “If we play it cool and I pretend I just want to meet up with DeAndre, she’ll tell me where they are.” I was right: in seconds, Kim had texted me. “They’re in the limo.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much,” said Skylar, rushing through the dance floor while picking up a walkie talkie from his belt. Soon, three or four other bouncers were following after him, as was the mysterious man sitting in the VIP who started to descend to meet them. I turned back to my drink.

  “What was that about?” asked Jason, coming back from serving other people, his eyebrow raised.

  “It’s a long story. Let’s get out of here later,” I said. I needed Jason. I needed Jason’s touch, I needed him to make this problem disappear, and I needed to leave Club Grit and get away from the girls of Omega House. Omega had become a place that I wasn’t proud to call home and I didn’t want to think about what was happening outside, but it was impossible not to. I heard yelling and screaming as the DJ stopped and people rushed to the exit.

  Jason had been following behind me, but as soon as he saw me trip, he pulled a whistle out from under his bartending vest and blew it, hard. The crowd cleared as he helped me up to my feet, and I wrapped an arm around him as I restabilized myself and we walked slowly out and towards where I knew the limo would be and where I could only hope to God had remained.

  Skylar was arguing with Kim, who was blocking the limo door and playing off the fact that she knew Skylar wouldn’t manhandle a woman. What she didn’t bet on is the fact that I’d womanhandle her. Jason let go of me as soon as I could walk on my own and once I could, I got a running start and grabbed Kim from the side, taking her down to the ground with me like she was one of the cousins I’d played tackle football with back at home.

  Before Kim could even muster out a single, “What the fuck?”, Skylar had the door open and was dragging out DeAndre, who, as I’d suspected, had his pants down to his ankles.

  “Are you fucking happy, Kim?” I screamed. “This isn’t a fucking game, Kim, these are real people’s lives that you’re messing with and I’m not going to let it happen anymore.” As Skylar helped a crying Emma out of the limo, an Emma more shaken than I’d ever seen her before, Jason had to pick me up and get me off of Kim. Even though I hadn’t done anything to her more than what was physically necessary to get her away from the door, I felt like taking her head in my two hands and forcing her to see the damage she’d caused, forcing her to take responsibility for the pain she’d inflicted on a person, but I knew that the sight wouldn’t change her, and that it wouldn’t help Emma.

  Jason took me back inside to the bar, the patrons i
nside Club Grit already dancing to the music again, as if what had happened outside didn’t matter to them at all, their minds and movements unshaken. After he poured me a glass of cold water, Skylar came up to the bar with Emma. I knew she didn’t see me, but I wanted to reach out, to let her know that I’d tried to help, but I didn’t. She had enough on her mind and she didn’t need to know about the small part I’d played, because what mattered was the part I hadn’t played: I hadn’t stopped her from socializing with DeAndre, who had a history, who had a past, and who I could have saved her from.

  Jason passed them two vouchers, and then, silently, just looked at me, let out a sigh, and gave me a sad smile, as if to let me know that as fucked up as it was, he was glad it wasn’t me in the limo, he was glad that I was okay, and that he knew I must have done whatever I could to have stopped what happened.

  I couldn’t keep looking at him though, because I knew in my heart that I hadn’t.

  Chapter Seven:

  THE NEXT MORNING, I took the cab back to the sorority house and passed the girls eating in the dining room, heading straight up to my single room and locking the door behind me. It was still early, but I’d spent the night tossing and turning in bed with Jason. We hadn’t had sex and he didn’t have to ask to know why the thought was revolting that night. As soon as we’d gone back to his place, we’d just gone to bed, but he hadn’t let go of me at all through the night. He’d been my rock through the turbulent tides of my discontent.

  We’d also gone to bed early for another reason. Today was moving day, and he and I were the only ones that knew it so far. He was just a text message away, and would come with a rented car whenever I needed him, to pick up my stuff so I could stay at his place for a while, while I figured out what to do.