The Force of Gravity(32)

“Damn,” he sighs. “You are so hot.” His gaze is fixed below my waist, and I snatch my glass from the nightstand, sucking down the rest of the drink before slamming it back down. My fingers shake as I unbutton his pants.

His eyes widen. “Room service will be here soon.”

“Who cares?” My lips are on his, and I pull down his zipper.

He hesitates before following my lead and soon falls into the moment. His breathing amplifies as his hands slide up my thighs, and I flinch as his fingers graze me underneath the lace. You’re such a coward, Kaley. I slam my eyes shut and let him touch me. I can do this. I just need to get out of my head. I want to be in this moment. I need to be in this moment.

I am in this moment.

He scoots down the bed, and I lock my thighs around him, our lips never separating. He slides down his boxers, and I feel him yank the delicate lace aside and press himself against me. My body jolts, and I gasp as he grips my hips tight, pressing me against his bare skin.

I pull back and spring off the bed. I hold my head as the room spins.

“I can’t do this,” I breathe, tugging down my dress.

“Kay, wait.” He sits up, and I catch sight of him before he pulls up his pants and stands next to me. “Hey, we can go slower, babe. I’m sorry. You’ve just been killing me in that dress all night.”

A loud knock at the door interrupts, and a man’s voice calls through the door, “Room service!”

Tommy fastens his tuxedo pants and shuffles to the door. My heart feels like it’s going to spasm, and my throat tightens, restricting the air to my lungs. As I watch Tommy retrieve the tray, my vision blurs. The man in the hallway looks over Tommy’s shoulder and smiles at me. I squint at him, but his smile morphs into a distorted smirk, and suddenly there is two of him. My heart stops beating, then pounds irregularly. I rush to the bathroom, the short hallway stretching beneath my bare feet, and flick on the bright light, locking the door behind me.

In the mirror is a girl with wild eyes and a blood-drained face. I squint at the hazy reflection and press my hand to my chest, feeling the sporadic thumps of my heart. What the hell is my problem? The walls close in around me, and I hunch over, steadying myself on the counter before sliding to my knees. Breathe, Kaley. I force my shoulders back to allow more oxygen into my lungs. Am I going to pass out? A tingling sensation runs down my right arm, and I can’t remember which arm signals you’re having a heart attack. . . .



“KAY?” TOMMY’S VOICE sounds like a distant echo. I didn’t hear the bathroom door open, but he’s at my side, lifting me up onto the toilet seat.

“How did you get in here?”

“Through the door,” he says. I can’t see his face, but his tone alerts me.

“I thought I locked it.”

He sighs. “The door wasn’t even all the way shut, Kaley. I knew I shouldn’t have given you that last drink.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

I open my eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t breathe and my arm is going numb.”

“Hey,” he whispers, kneeling in front of me. “It’s okay . . . don’t freak out. I’m sorry, I really am. We’ll go slower. You probably just need to eat.”

“This isn’t right,” I mumble, using his shoulders to push myself onto my feet. I pause to let the room steady before moving past him.

“Kay!” He follows me out to the bedroom. “You can’t seriously be mad at me right now—you were taking the lead there.”

“I’m not mad at you,” I say, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

His toned shoulders slump as he slides his hands in his pockets. He really is handsome—all of him. And I do love him . . . as far as I know what love is. But the pain in his face is my doing, and I feel like a monster.

“You know what?” I say, my voice breaking. “I think I need to go home.” I drop down on the bed and slip into my heels.

“Kaley, don’t be ridiculous.” He steps in front of me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “This is why you shouldn’t drink—you can never handle it.”

I whip my head up and narrow my eyes at him. “It’s not the alcohol,” I spit out, breaking his grip. I grab my bag and head toward the door, ignoring the sway of the room.

“Kaley, wait,” he says with a sigh. I turn around, and he takes a step forward. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. We can just eat and watch a movie or something, go to bed. It’s cool . . . don’t leave.”

The tightness in my chest won’t let up, and I stand up straighter. As much as I want to take him up on his offer, I have a sneaking suspicion he’ll continue to paw at me all night long. I know he’s sincere, but I don’t know how much he can take with me lying in bed next to him all night. My mind flashes to the skimpy pajamas I packed, and I shake my head. I know I need to go home.

“I’m sorry,” I say, turning away.

I yank open the door and stagger down the hall. I glance back, wondering if he’ll follow me—I don’t want him to, but it feels wrong leaving him like this . . . and yet it feels wrong if I stay. When I round the corner, Avery and her squad of skanks spill out of the elevator.

Fantastic.

Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Where are you going, girl?”

“Nowhere,” I mutter.

“We’re having a party in room 304 if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.” I give her a quick nod and step into the elevator—I can’t tell if she’s too drunk to notice me leaving with my bag, or if she’s just a complete idiot.

The elevator doors slide closed, and I’m left alone, my spineless reflection staring back at me. My lungs struggle for air, and I can’t wait to get outside. My hands shake as I clutch my bag, and I suddenly long for my mother.

Leaning back into the corner, I breathe out a shaky sigh. I don’t know if Tommy will forgive me this time. What am I going to say to him tomorrow? What is there to say? How am I going to face Emily and Derek after they find out I left?

And what am I going to say to my dad when I come home early tonight? I have to think of a reason why I’m no longer staying the night at Emily’s without him being suspicious. There’s no way I can make curfew, but maybe he’ll still be at the poker game. They usually run pretty late. Technically, I do feel sick, maybe I can play up that angle . . . but what if he smells the alcohol? When I reach the lobby, I hurry over to the concierge’s desk.

“I need a cab,” I tell the young man.

He hesitates, running his gaze over my dress. “Uh, actually, there are some cabs outside waiting. Would you like me to walk you out?”

“No, thank you,” I reply.

I hurry across the lobby, slowing only when the floor sways. The glass doors slide open, and a gust of wind meets my face. It’s intense, but at least I can breathe again. I wave at a cab, and the driver steps out and takes my bag, opening the rear door for me. I’m thankful my dad gave me extra cash tonight, but I’m pretty far from home and hope I have enough.

“Would you like your bag with you or in the trunk, miss?” asks the driver as I slide into the backseat. His Jamaican accent catches me off guard.

“With me is fine,” I say. A burst of thunder erupts, causing me to jump.

He chuckles, handing me my bag. “Yeah, it’s a little stormy out tonight.” He shuts my door just as the rain begins to fall. Tears sting my eyes as I squint through the droplets on the cab window, peering back at the hotel. How could I do this to Tommy? My chest tightens, and I crack open the window. The open-air calms me, helping my head clear a little.

“Where to, miss?” asks the driver after closing his door.

Another crack of thunder rumbles as pellets of rain strike the cab. I check the time on my phone—already half an hour past my curfew. No matter what excuse I give my dad, I’m going to be in trouble. I cringe at the thought of coming home to his angry face and pray that he stays out late.

“Miss?” says the driver.

“Sorry,” I say. I give him the address and slump down in the seat, shuffling in my bag for my mints. I know I must reek of booze.

We hop on the freeway, and I relax in my seat. So this is how my prom night turned out. I wonder if I’ll be able to laugh about it one day . . . not any time soon, that’s for sure.

“No date tonight?” asks the driver, breaking the silence.

“Uh . . .” It’s a bold question, but for some reason his accent and kind eyes make it feel nonthreatening. “He’s still at the hotel.”

“Ah, I see. Looks like he doesn’t know how to treat a lady,” he says, chuckling.

“Something like that,” I say, although it’s not exactly true. Tommy’s intentions aren’t wrong, but they just aren’t right for me. I lean forward and rest my head against the seat in front of me. How could I have done this to him?

I turn and lean against the door, pressing my cheek against the cool glass. We ride the rest of the way in silence, my thoughts straying in every possible direction as guilt permeates through me. I long for this disastrous night to be over with. The cab slows down, removing me from my tormented thoughts, and I open my eyes. When we come to a complete stop, I pay the man his fee, plus a tip—the very last of my cash supply.