Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(2)

“Lean back,” I coo, nudging him back against the wall. Get as far away from me as possible.

“What if I don’t want to?” He slurs as his gaze roams my body.

“Those are the rules.”

“Show me your tits then,” he demands.

Fine. I abandon all seductive de-clothing and pull off my shirt and bikini bra. In the club I wear pasties over my nipples, but those are in the trash already. He’s getting his money’s worth. A guy hasn’t seen all of my boobs since, well, Parker.

I look around the alley. We’re alone. Good. I think.

He licks his lips. “Yeah, baby, nice. Now get those shorts off.”

Anxiety spikes higher as blood rushes through my veins. “I said topless only.”

“For three hundred? And I can’t kiss you? I might as well watch porn.” He reaches for me again, and I rear back, laughing nervously.

“But a porn video can’t say your name. Do you want this or not . . . Scott?” I bat my eyelashes as I make my voice sound breathless.

His eyes narrow. “All right. Get on with it.”

My jaw clenches. He’s rude and disrespectful. He makes my skin crawl.

“Let me dance. I promise, you’ll be happy.” I do a twirl and run my hands through my long brown hair as I shimmy my hips, doing a routine from Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”.

She croons about being touched for the very first time while I’m just praying Vomit Boy keeps his hands to himself. Singing the song in my head, I stare at a point over his shoulder and move my body from muscle memory. I end with a big, fake smile.

He jumps at me. His hands wrap around my waist as he whips me around so that I’m the one up against the wall.

“Your dance sucked, babe. You lacked enthusiasm.” His hands move to my throat. “I expected more.”

Fear slams into my skull. My heart beats like a snare drum. “Easy now. Play nice.” I tug at his fingers and they loosen. A little.

“Suck my cock and I will.”

“Not happening.” I place my hands on his chest and push, but the guy’s built like a linebacker, thick but compact. I may as well be shoving a tractor.

He leans in to nuzzle at my hair, pressing closer. His hand gropes my body, and I flinch. My gaze darts down the alleyway to the street as college girls hurry by and frat-hop without a care in the world.

I wish I could be one of them.

I was one of them.

I try to jerk away as he puts pressure on my shoulders, nudging me down. The brick of the wall scratches my back as his fingers dig into my skin.

“No . . .” I protest, but he cuts me off.

“Yeah, baby . . .” His hand moves between us as he pulls down his zipper. I fight the rising bile in my throat and beat at him.

I never should have agreed to this.

Even if I am at the end of my rope.

Disappointment in myself, mixed with anger for him, bubbles up inside me like lava.

I angle my head up and hold his bleary eyes as I grit my words out. “You asshole! I don’t have sex with clients.”

He reaches into the confines of his pants. I smell his rankness, loosely veiled by too much body spray.

I try to jab him in the nuts, when . . .

“That you, Scott?” a male voice calls from the street.

He lets go so fast that I fall to the side and land on the asphalt.

He’s spared the pain in his crotch, but I get it screaming up both of my elbows. My backside is covered with bits of crumbled concrete. Blood blooms on my knees.

These damn shoes. With hands that tremble, I undo the gold stilettos from my feet. Scratches line the shiny plastic coating and one of the heels has broken off.

Cheap. Useless. A metaphor for my life.

I toss them in front of me as I crawl towards a dumpster.

“Yeah, it’s me. Hold the fuck on. Be there in a minute,” Scott mumbles to his friend, then looks back at me. “Hey! Where are you going? We’re having fun, baby.”

I stare at him. At his flushed face and vomit-covered shirt.

How did I get here?

When I was a kid, I dreamed of college. Of being my own person.

But this? This is a joke.

Taylor’s voice sounds in my head: You are your own universe, Julia. You’re made up of black holes and glittering galaxies. You are beautiful. Vast. Limitless.

He tells me this when I get low. I’m pretty low now.

Clenching my hands, I rise up.

“Give me my money,” I say as I snatch my bra and strap it on.

“What? Come on. Let’s try this again, yeah?” He puts on his friendly face, and I start at the way he switches from jerk to nice guy.

“No,” I mutter.

The voice comes again. “Scott! Get your ass out of the alley. Your girlfriend just showed at the frat house.”

He blinks hard. “Fuck.” He tucks his dick in his pants and zips, then gives me a smirk. “Catch you later, baby.”

He wanders towards the street as I wipe the asphalt from my skin.

You need his money, keeps running through my head. Yeah, but am I willing to get close to him again?

Moving fast, I tug on my flowy t-shirt.

Just ask him for what I’m owed. Plus, his girlfriend is here; he won’t be forcing me to my knees in front of her.

“Scott,” I call out. “You got what we agreed to, so—”