JENNIE
"Do you always thrash in your sleep?" said a low voice.
Jolted awake from a panicked dream, I squinted in the dark. Where was I? In someone's arms, my cheek against her chest.
That patronizing tone sent memories flooding in: leaving Kappa Sig, snowflakes falling on my cheeks, a huge hand holding mine. Money spitting out of the ATM and flashing in front of my eyes. Lips capturing mine, a rolled-up bill sliding between my breasts.
"Lisa," I murmured. She shifted, and I bit my lip at the soft drag of her skin against my arm. My breasts nestled against her chest, my thighs hugged her long leg. And against that leg, my crotch throbbed. Tender, sticky, sore.
"Do you?" she repeated.
"Thrash in my sleep? Not usually. I had a nightmare." Though I was sweating in Lisa's arms, I shivered. "Last night was…well, it was really bad."
Her muscles tensed. "You mean, you and me?" Her voice was careful. I couldn't read the tone.
"No." I almost laughed. "I mean the night before this one, when I was home with no heat or electricity. That's what I was dreaming about."
She relaxed, brushing damp hair off my forehead. "What was so bad?"
"I know it doesn't seem like a big deal. There are so many worse things. But it was freezing, it was pitch black, and no one else was there. I was huddled under my covers, alone, looking at my phone until the battery died and there was no way to recharge it…" I broke off. I was shaking. "I couldn't get out of the dark. I couldn't see anything, I couldn't see myself, I didn't know what was real… I felt like I was no one. I was absolutely nothing."
Silently, she rubbed the back of my head, pulling me close. She was comforting me. Right when I thought this night couldn't get any crazier.
"I was so scared," I confided, because I needed to. I wanted her to know.
"It's not happening anymore. Everything's okay now." Her voice was soothing. I felt myself relax into her embrace. "Are you afraid of the dark, Jennie?"
I looked away. "It's such a little-kid thing," I muttered to the pillow. "It's embarrassing. No one else knows. And I hate being cold and alone."
She stroked my hair. "You're not cold here, right?"
"No."
"And you're not alone."
"No."
"Maybe you like the dark more than you think."
I couldn't see her knowing smile, but I sure as hell heard it. Rolling over with my back to her, I pressed my face into the pillow. Lisa didn't push, but I knew she lay awake behind me as I drifted off to sleep.
An alarm clock jangled the air. My eyes opened just enough to see that it was 8:00 am. I pulled the pillow over my head.
This time, I knew whose room I was in. Whose sheets were twisted around me, half-covering my naked butt. Whose waist, hard and unyielding, my arm had so recently been draped over.
"Wake up, Jennie." Her deep voice cut through the pillow.
"An alarm?" I grumbled, pushing the pillow aside. "At eight am on a Saturday? God, I really do hate you."
"I have things to do." She climbed off the bed and stood in front of the dresser, unhurriedly picking out clothes. I eyed the carved marble of her back.
I should be jumping out of bed, in a rush to leave after what I'd done last night. What she'd done to me.
I stayed under the sheets.
Lisa shrugged on a T-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers. There was something about the way she dressed. It wasn't flashy, and she didn't give off a rich vibe, but her clothes were just a little different than your typical Kappa Sig dude. Subtle differences, like the cut of her dark T-shirt, hugging her torso, the v-neck nuzzling the base of her throat, and her boxers, which looked…tailored.
"What do you like to eat for breakfast?" She leaned her hand against the dresser.
"Oh, right. That." I patted back a yawn. My stomach had been rumbling since I woke up. Skipping dinner last night was catching up to me. "Eggs. Or oatmeal. But really, cold cereal's fine. I know what frat house kitchens are like."
She nodded and left. Her eyes flicked to my half-covered body on the way out.
When the door clicked shut, I rolled out of bed, wincing at the tenderness between my legs, and began investigating. Lisa got a prize for having the cleanest frat house bedroom I'd ever seen. The open closet caught my eye, and I wandered over.
No dirty secrets here. Just a few quietly expensive shirts, sweaters, and pants. A sketch pad by the wall, a box of pencils on the shelf. In back of the shelf, a black-and-white silk scarf was balled-up and crumpled. Shoved out of sight, forgotten. It was obviously a woman's scarf. I was curious, but when I felt around next to the box, I hit the jackpot — a family photo.
I held the picture carefully by the edges. A teenage Lisa in a tux smiled up at me. Four people in formal wear stood in a group around her. Behind them was an outdoor bar and a big tent. Probably a family wedding.
Quickly, I inspected the two younger brothers — one brash and cocky, one slender and shy — and the broad, tense-looking dad who could be Lisa's thirty-years-older twin. But I looked the longest at her mom, pretty and slight, one hand protecting her updo from the wind, who smiled for the camera like an afterthought while her pale eyes gazed off to the side.
I guessed Lisa was around sixteen here. Already tall, but lankier, her jaw softer. Her face was open, her brown eyes eager to please. Nothing like the wolf who'd lured me in and gotten off on my humiliation. But at her side, one hand was clenched in a fist.
I heard voices in the hall and quickly replaced the picture on the shelf.
Backing away from the closet, I took in the rest of the room. The desk was disappointingly neat. Other than the rumpled bed, everything was in place. Her walls were like a travel ad for Italy, specifically Rome: posters of the Colosseum, a stone fountain with a worn Latin inscription, a cobbled alleyway. The top half of her bookcase bulged with art books, and the bottom overflowed with more economics textbooks than a sane person would ever read.
I found my panties and bra on the floor and wriggled into them as I inspected the last picture — a small painting opposite her bed.
A naked woman sat on a ledge, her back to the viewer, curled in on herself. A hint of breast peeked out from the side. A curtain of hair hid most of her face as she looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes lifted.
Exposed. Submissive. Defiant.
It's not like we were twins or anything, but that long, wavy dark hair could be mine. The body wasn't too far off, either.
I finger-combed my hair savagely, bending to pull out the tangles. So Lisa had a type. And whatever her kinks were, she looked at this painting every day. I would have preferred a smiling, fake-boobed centerfold that I could roll my eyes over.
The door opened suddenly behind me. "Nice ass."
I froze, flushing. The words were crude. Delivered in that deep, quiet voice, they went from a catcall to a barb. Stuck in my skin, tugging between my legs.
I pivoted to face her in my underwear. She was holding a loaded cookie sheet, doubling as a tray.
""Nice mouth," I retorted. "You talk to your mom with that mouth?"
A strange look came over her face. Then it was gone. She strolled over to the bed, set down the tray in the middle, and made herself comfortable.
"Eat up." She gestured to the cookie sheet.
Cautiously, I settled in next to her. Plumping the pillows behind my back, I pulled the covers up and reached for the tray.
There was oatmeal. Eggs. A bigger plate of eggs for Lisa. There were raisins on the oatmeal. There were two mugs of coffee — oh sweet Jesus, coffee. I grabbed one and slurped.
"You made all this?" I said around a mouthful of oatmeal. Lisa's lips twitched. "Excuse me, I'm hungry."
"I can see that." She started in on her eggs.
"I'm impressed that you found something in the kitchen to use as a tray."
Lisa took a measured sip of coffee. "Mm."
"I've been in that kitchen. It's not the worst, but it's not exactly well-stocked. I was baking cookies for James last spring," I rushed on, "and I did it here so he could have them straight out of the oven. I had to bring everything in. The ingredients, the supplies." I pointed at the cookie sheet. "I think I bought that. You're using my donation to this house."
"Mm," Lisa said again, like she was humoring me.
"You're not much of a morning talker, are you? Even though you set your alarm for the crack of fuck o'clock."
"What was that you were saying about having a mouth, Jennie?"
I flushed hotter, the heat followed by a wave of cold. It was the way she looked at me, the way she deliberately paused her eating, the way she held her fork still, like she was about to drop it and haul me over her knee.
I shook my head quickly and went back to my food. Last night was a one-time thing.
The silence stretched as we ate. I couldn't take it.
"Ssshhhh, kids." I held a finger to my lips. "Mommy and Daddy are having quiet time right now."
"You're a sarcastic bitch." She grinned at me. "I like it."
I drained my coffee. "You're a cold bastard. I don't like it."
"There's the door." She waved in its direction. "You're free to leave. I'm not making you do anything you don't want to. do"
My heart sped up. "I'm eating breakfast right now." Forcing my hand to stay steady, I speared some scrambled eggs.
After that, I let the silence go and practically cleaned my plate and bowl. Everything tasted good. I caught Lisa watching me as I licked oatmeal off the spoon.
"Thanks for breakfast," I murmured. "I didn't really eat much yesterday."
"Poor baby." She rubbed the back of my neck. "That explains why you were so hungry for it last night."
I glared at her. "Would it kill you to act like a decent person for one second?"
She shrugged, a slight smile on her face. "Have you decided? Are you going to be my companion?"
Hell, no. No. I should say no right now and toss my breakfast in her face. "I have twenty-four hours, remember?"
She looked at the heavy silver watch on her wrist. Again, not flashy, but tasteful. "Sixteen and a half. We talked about it at 1:00 this morning. It's 8:30 now."
"Okay, okay. Don't remind me how early it is." I set the spoon down. Somehow, all the food had vanished. The coffee, too. Lisa was still looking at me, her gaze unwavering. "What?"
"You were perfect last night." She pressed her thumb against my lower lip. I resisted the urge to bite it, an urge that whooshed through my body. No way would I give Lisa the satisfaction of another round, breakfast or no breakfast.
"Look at you with the compliments. First time I've ever been perfect at anything." I laughed, but it caught in my throat.
"Yeah?" She cocked her head. Nothing about her softened, but she looked curious.
"I've just always been a runner-up." I pushed the tray away and leaned against the pillows. "Second place in gymnastics meets, second-best at city ice-skating competitions, assistant cheerleading captain. Alternate this, substitute that…homecoming princess but never the queen."
She pressed her lips together to keep in a laugh. "That's a problem for you? Most people would be happy with that. And high school's over."
"It's an example. And— look, I'll just show you a picture. Then you'll get it."
I padded to the desk to get my purse, as if showing Lisa my own family would compensate for my snooping earlier. She raised her eyebrows, but waited, the sheet half-draped over her torso. In the cool morning light, she was stone. A statue. I couldn't help staring.
When I glanced up, her eyes were moving casually over my half-naked body, taking in the round handfuls of breast, the abs I didn't work on anymore, the hips that she'd grabbed and pinched during the night. My knees wobbled. My hand brushed a wad of bills when I got my phone.
I thumbed through albums until I found a family shot from last Easter. Climbing back into bed, I pushed the screen in front of her face. "What do you notice about this?"
My parents stood to one side of me. Jisoo stood on the other side, like a statue of the perfect woman, sucking up all the attention in the photo with her trillion-watt smile, her doe eyes, her dark glossy hair cascading over one shoulder, her graceful height and apricot skin and sculpted shoulders. Confident as hell, but so frickin' nice that you couldn't hate her.
My sister would always have greater accomplishments, tighter abs, and better morals than me.
Lisa's eyes moved calmly over the picture. "You're at church." She sounded amused.
"What else?"
"Everyone in your family looks alike, including your parents."
I could say the same about her family. Those brown blue eyes, that light brown hair.
"And?"
"And you look like you're posing while you think about being fucked."
I snorted. I wasn't going to take the bait. "I'm talking about my sister. Don't tell me you don't have an opinion about her."
"She looks nice."
"And by nice, you mean spectacularly gorgeous, confident, and sexy, because you die inside when you give someone a compliment, right? She's so beautiful, it's insane. She gives people whiplash from checking her out. I mean, I'd do her."
My phone dropped from Lisa's hand, landing on the blanket by the cookie sheet.
"Hey," I began, and didn't get any farther, because that hand was suddenly in my hair, twisting sharply, turning me to face the opposite wall.
The full-length mirror showed my shocked expression, Lisa behind me, her head close to mine.
"Look at yourself." She emphasized the order with a tug on my hair.
Mascara smudged my eyelids from sobbing while she fucked me. My lipstick was gone, my lips bare and swollen. I'd lost an earring. Wild hair, dark and wavy, begged to spring free of Lisa's grip.
My bra strap fell over one shoulder. Her free hand slipped inside white lace to cup my breast. My lips parted, and I saw myself arch toward her with no shame, not even a second's hesitation. The mirror didn't lie.
"You don't look nice." She pinched my nipple. Fuck it, I moaned — loudly. When she let my hair go, her hand slid swiftly into my panties. My face contorted — greedy, hungry, possessed. God, I looked like that when Lisa touched me?
Her voice was soft. "As I said, your sister looked nice. But you're not a nice girl, are you, Jennie?" She stroked my slick lips. I let out another moan.
"I'm a very nice girl," I muttered.
When a finger sank into me, the mirror showed my snarl. The mirror said otherwise.
"I think I've made it clear that I'm not into nice." Pulling me in, she kissed me. Hard. My mouth opened, and teeth scraped my lower lip. Her finger moved inside my pussy; her pinches on my nipple made me squirm. Dammit, I leaned into the sensations, wanting to be fingered deeper, pinched harder.
As suddenly as she began, she pulled her hand out of my underwear. When she broke the kiss, I was gasping.
"All done?" She nodded at the cookie sheet with its empty dishes. I nodded back, too stunned to reply. "I'll drive you home."
I slunk out of bed to hunt down my clothes. "Now you offer."
Our feet crunched through new-fallen snow. The smoky scent of my sweater and leggings added to my walk of shame. I could smell the money from last night. Feel it on my skin.
"Just drop me off in town, okay? I need to get my electricity turned back on."
She smiled, and when her eyes caught mine, I could hear her taunting whispers.
"Whatever you want," she said.
She led me to a blue Ford at the edge of the parking lot. It was well-maintained — freaking spotless — but old.
I eyed the rusting metal at the bottom of the passenger side. "This is your car?"
She unlocked the door manually and opened it for me. "What did you expect?"
"The Batmobile. A pit of evil. Something on the level of your nice watch."
She shrugged, one large hand resting on the door as I climbed in. Sunlight sparkled off the snow-capped roofs of the cars.
"Where'd you get the money to do this companion thing?" I lowered my voice, glancing around Lisa. Fortunately, this early on a Saturday morning, the parking lot was empty.
"I saved up."
"You must really want it. It's a lot of money over the semester."
She closed the door without answering.
Inside the car, Lisa switched on the heat, and, when we turned onto the main campus road, the radio. It was tuned to our college station.
"Helloooo, State U!" some guy hollered. "I'll be providing you with tunes for the next two hours on this bright and snowy Saturday morning. Let's start with some steel drums—"
Lisa twisted the dial to off. She seemed perfectly happy, or what passed for happy with Lisa, to drive without talking.
I stretched, still sore, and cleared my throat. "What kind of music do you like?"
She gave me a significant look out of the corner of her eye. "The sound of silence."
We went around a traffic circle. Some bikers, brave or just crazy, were cycling through the snow.
"Why'd you treat me the way you did?" I pushed. My arms and legs felt like rubber.
"I watched you in the quad." Her straightforward tone made me shiver. "On the phone you were all, Everything's fine, isn't it funny that this shit is happening, I'm just telling you for your entertainment because everything! Is! Fine! Then you were bawling your eyes out. You keep a lot inside, don't you? I just gave you a reason to let it all out."
For once, I was speechless.
"That's so nice of you, Lisa," I finally said. "I'm glad this is all about me."
"How'd you run out of money?"
It was none of her business, but I answered anyway.
"I was having fun last semester." I tried to be airy, but my face burned. "I'd buy everyone a round of drinks…order pizzas if it was someone's birthday…treat my friends…you know, if you're drinking, it's easier to let the money slip away. Never mind, you don't know. Since apparently you don't touch alcohol."
She focused on the road. Her shoulders seemed to stiffen.
"You do know?" My voice softened, and I cursed myself for sounding like I cared. I hurried to fill the silence. "Anyway, the usual stuff. My best friend borrows from me a lot. What am I going to say, no? I bought my boyfriend — my ex — presents. I like being generous."
"So your friends treat you like a bank, and you buy everyone pizza so they'll like you."
I slapped my purse onto my lap and glared straight ahead at the bright white snow. "You probably track every cent. Keep a fucking spreadsheet. Tossing that money around last night was like — the dirtiest porn for you. Your car tells me everything I need to know."
She shrugged. "You don't like my car, you can walk."
"We're done talking, Lisa."
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, amused.
Buildings rose around us as we drove into the center of town. When I pointed to a street corner, Lisa pulled up to the curb.
I retied my scarf and grabbed my purse, ready to make my exit, but I couldn't leave without having the last word.
"Well, thanks for the ride. Now I know what it's like to come all night long." God, in my attempt to avoid the wave of total awkwardness, I crashed right into it.
Lisa's brows drew together. Then she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel, her broad shoulders shaking with laughter.
"Dick," I snapped. "Why are you laughing at me?"
"Jennie," she said, in the condescending tone that made me long to slap her. "You were asleep most of the night."
"I — oh." My mouth was open. I closed it.
"When I say all night long, I mean all. Night. Long."
"That's — insane." I itched inside my coat, suddenly burning up. I could feel her leaning over me, holding me down, coaxing and teasing and forcing me to climax over and over again. "There's such a thing as too much."
Lisa cocked her head and regarded me.
"Have you done that with a girl?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Were you paying her too?"
She blinked. "No."
"Was she paying you?"
She grinned. "You're cute."
Jesus. Before the sweetness could get out of hand, she took a pen from the cupholder and lifted my left wrist. I started as she scrawled ten digits on the inside of my palm.
"You have 'til one am to call. If I don't hear from you, the deal's off."
I nodded quickly, opened the door, and got the hell out of her car.