Chapter 17: The Marks of Passion
Mia pulled her hoodie over her head, the fabric clinging to her hair. She was starting to get warm despite the cold she'd walked through, and she used the motion to hide the small, private smile that had crept onto her face. Cassie's story was sweet. It was romantic in a way that was entirely different from what she and Jake had done.
Jake's dorm room offered no soft lighting or special preparation. Just a temperamental heater, a bed that complained with every movement, and the relentless wind whipping against the glass. She remembered how he'd pressed her against the tiled wall, how he'd driven into her with such force that the headboard had left a mark on the plaster. Nothing gentle about it. Nothing refined. It was wild and primal and so all-encompassing that she still couldn't distinguish where one of them stopped and the other started.
She found herself touching the hickey on her neck, hidden beneath the collar of her tank top. A rush of heat went through her, entirely unrelated to the temperature.
"So we have sex," Cassie continued, now fully in her storytelling element. "And it was slow, you know? Like, he kept whispering in my ear, telling me how beautiful I was, how good I felt. He took his time with me. He made sure I came first, like, every time. And the whole time, he never rushed, never tried to flip me over and just go for it. He was so present. That's the word. Present."
"So considerate," Alyssa sighed. "My boyfriend just rolls over and falls asleep."
"Mine too," Rachel said, without looking up from her phone.
"Well, Marcus isn't like that," Cassie said, puffing up with pride. "He's all about the emotional connection. He made sure there were no expectations, no pressure. He just wanted to be with me. And then after, we lay there and talked for hours. About everything. About nothing. He traced patterns on my back and told me about his mom's recipes and I told him about my dream to travel to Japan and we just, like, existed together. It was perfect."
Mia draped her hoodie over the hook in her locker and reached for the hem of her long-sleeve thermal shirt. The fabric was snug, and as she pulled it up, it caught on her breasts, exposing the pale skin of her stomach before she worked it over her head. She tossed it into the locker with the other layers.
"Okay, that's beautiful," Joanna said, pressing a hand to her chest. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I'm genuinely jealous."
"Don't be," Cassie said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm sure all of you had your own snow day stories. What about you, Alyssa? You said you and your boyfriend made chili. I bet that wasn't the only thing that happened."
Alyssa grinned, a sly expression crossing her face. "Well, I might have fallen asleep on the couch with him, and when I woke up, he had a blanket over us and our hands were tangled together. And when he noticed I was awake, he just looked at me and said, 'I love you.' Like, out of nowhere. First time he ever said it."
The girls swooned, a chorus of "awws" and "oh my god" filling the locker room.
Mia was only half-listening. She was focused on the task at hand, reaching into her locker to pull out her workout uniform. The top was a fitted waffle top in the school's colors, maroon and gold, and the pants were long sweats, even loose they accentuated her ass. She turned away slightly, her body angled toward the locker as she reached for the zipper on her jeans.
She was aware, in a distant, comfortable way, of the ongoing conversation behind her. Joanna was asking about a party someone was throwing next weekend. Rachel was muttering something about being unavailable because of a pre-med study group. Cassie was laughing at something, her voice loud and infectious.
And then, gradually, the noise began to change.
It was subtle at first. A pause that was a beat too long. A sentence that trailed off in the middle. A question that went unanswered.
Mia pushed her jeans down over her hips, the denim scraping against her skin as she worked them down her thighs, and she felt the sudden weight of the silence pressing against her back.
She had been aware, dimly, of the marks. The scratches on her ribs had unswelled, but they were still angry, raised red lines that raked across her pale skin like claw marks. She'd seen them in the mirror this morning when she was getting dressed, a vivid reminder of the night.
There were more on her shoulders, faint, barely there, but visible. And the hickeys, God, the hickeys. She'd tried to cover them with makeup, but the collar of her tank top didn't quite hide the dark purple mark just below her ear, the one Jake had sucked into her skin while he was fucking her.
She turned around, still holding her jeans against her hips, and found every single pair of eyes in the room fixed on her.
Cassie's mouth was still open, mid-sentence, but the words had died on her lips. Her eyes were wide, tracing the path of the scratches on Mia's ribs and back, then jumping to the hickey on her neck, then to the faint bite mark just visible at the edge of her tank top.
Joanna was frozen, one hand still holding her ponytail, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning, scandalized understanding.
Alyssa's water bottle was halfway to her lips, but she wasn't drinking. She was staring.
Even Rachel had looked up from her phone, and Rachel never looked up from her phone.
The silence stretched, thick and expectant, for what felt like a full minute.
"Well," Cassie said finally, breaking the spell. Her voice was a little hoarse, and she cleared her throat. "Well, well, well. Look who's been busy."
Mia felt her cheeks flush. She pulled the top over her head, but she knew it was too late. The damage was done. The evidence was out there, on display for all of them to see.