65

Kassie

Like His Last Meal

At nine o'clock at night, cross-legged on the couch in our dorm, I went through the timelapse of my animation process, trying to focus on exactly where I'd made the mistake and hid the layer. I should've been clicking through Florida apartments, but I couldn't concentrate on them. Each of them—palm trees included—blurred into each other.

The lock on the front door jiggled and Zariah barrelled through it.

"Damn!" She laughed. "I keep forgetting it's fixed!"

I held up a finger to my lips. "Z, shhh."

"You should've come with," Zariah told me, oblivious to me trying to get her to be quiet. "June snuck in drinks at the movies, we poured them in the slushies."

"Z, I need to talk to you—"

My best friend strolled into our bedroom and I wasn't quick enough to stop her.

I lurched up. " Zariah ."

She quickly closed the door again and spun around to look at me. Her eyebrows raised up as far as they could go. "Kass?"

I settled back on the couch. "Don't wake him up."

"Kassandra Ragar." Zariah did a double-take. "There is a slut in your bed."

"And he's asleep. Let him sleep."

"A shirtless football player in our room . Shirtless. On your bed. Sluttily sleeping."

I motioned her over. "I need to talk to you."

Zariah took a long look at me and shrugged, tossing her bag on to one of the barstools next to the kitchen bar. "Fine, fine, fine," she told me, taking her place on the other side of the couch. "What's up?"

"Henry Miller emailed me to apologize ."

"About what?"

Oh, shit. With everything else going on, I either had zero time to tell her, we worked on opposite schedules, or I simply forgot. I stared at my roommate for long seconds, trying to figure out where to start.

"Okay, so, the dinner…"

I told her everything about Henry Miller. All the nasty, horrible details that weren't that bad —not as bad as I'd ever dealt with—but the sheer disappointment has been so overwhelming, it hurt the worst. The weirdest thing was - I told Zariah, dry-eyed. No tears. No sniffling. Not even pauses in between.

" Kass ." Zariah grabbed a couch pillow and held it in her lap, stricken. "Girl, that's horrible. I'm so sorry."

"And…he apologized."

"Can I read it?" she asked. I nodded and passed her over my laptop. Zariah quickly scanned the email and peered at me over my screen. "This is…weird, right? Am I taking too many writing classes or is this weird?"

"It sounds weird as hell to me," I agreed.

"So…what are you going to do with it?"

"Oh, I already sent it to the HR department of Blanched Studios."

" What? " Zariah shifted up on her knees, gaping at me. "Girl, are you serious? You just sent it off? Just like that? That is so crazy, you were just like, time to take out the trash!"

"You say that but you didn't see me after the dinner. I was a mess," I admitted. "Bawling all over the place."

"I can't picture a crying Kassie."

"Ryan saw all of it." My sigh was heavy. "He can confirm it."

"And then he ate you out?" She stuck her tongue out.

"It didn't exactly happen like that."

"Uh-huh…" Zariah motioned for me to continue. " Yeah …?"

I drew my knees up on the couch, unable to hide the embarrassed grin. "Okay, I got to his dorm, and I'm sobbing. Like—makeup is trashed . And I'm waiting for him—and waiting for him—and he comes back after the game and he flips out when he sees me."

"Hot."

"And he throws everybody else out of the apartment, all the photographers, and—" I squeezed my eyes shut. A flush crept up my neck. "And he's holding me and comforting me—"

" Hot ."

"Bear hugging me and then he's kissing me…"

Her mouth fell open. "Oh. My. God."

"I know."

"And then he ate some pussy."

I grabbed her pillow from her and blushed. "And then he ate it like his last meal."

She mock-screamed, mouth wide and grabbing my shoulders. With a sheepish grin, I tugged down Ryan's hoodie and showed off the map of bruises and bite marks from the top of my breasts to my throat. Zariah clapped her hands over her mouth and fell backwards to the couch arm, all dramatics.

"That should be a law," Zariah breathed out. "If you have a terrible dinner, some guy eats you out."

I giggled until I spotted my laptop, flashing the low battery light. I had to venture into the bedroom and not wake up Ryan. I pushed myself up. "I've got to grab my charger, Z. Do you need something?"

"My pajamas," Zariah whispered. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Thanks, Kass."

Before I left though, I needed to tell her something. I hung back over the couch. "You're a completely useless wingman by the way. He's halfway to getting me pregnant."

"I gave him a perfectly reasonable metaphorical situation and he dunked it in the trash." Zariah snorted, whipping out her phone.

"Ryan's not metaphorical," I pointed out. "Metaphors aren't in his natural habitat. Or his diet plan. He doesn't do metaphors."

"Don't worry, girl. He already chewed me out about it."

I grinned and headed off to the bedroom.

Because of the football player's renovations, the door didn't creak open anymore but I was still slow and deliberate with it out of habit. Ryan had been going nonstop for too long. I couldn't remember the last time he'd had actual rest, much less passing out for this long.

And there he was, fast asleep.

My heart slowed in my chest at the sight of him. He really was such a knockout. I should've left him alone but my footsteps were soft on the floor as I approached the bed.

I knew his face like the back of my hand. I'd been drawing it all semester. But in his peaceful sleep, a lot of the intense lines eased away. The ones by his eyes, when he frowned at something, and the ones along his jaw—gone. His body rose and fell softly as he breathed in deep, with his feet hanging off my bed, and his dark curls, disheveled. They'd been getting longer. Gently, I brushed my fingers through them and Ryan stirred.

Shit.

Backing away didn't do anything, His eyes flickered open.

"Ryan, I'm so sorry," I apologized and reached back for my laptop charger.

"What?" he rasped, delirious. His voice was low and throaty, thick with sleep. "Kassie—what time is it?"

I flinched. "Nine?"

" Nine? "