Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance (30 page)

“I had it on good authority that this was
the
party to go to, so I’m glad I held
out for a rager.”

Zack grinned again. “We need to get you a
drink,” he said, grabbing my hand and steering me through the crowd. “Evan made
the punch tonight—he’s got the golden touch with booze.” Zack found a table
covered with cups and handed me one. “Better stay close to me; that stuff’s
stronger than it tastes. Full of moonshine.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes, finally starting
to relax as I had my first few sips. Zack pulled me back to the main area, and
I saw that everyone around us was dancing—really dancing. The music was good,
so I started to move along with it, swaying my hips and sipping my drink.

“That’s the Evie I know!” Zack said,
moving a little closer to me.

Zack and I started dancing together, and
at first I told myself it was just as friends; I’d seen him chatting up the
other girls—I didn’t have any claim on him. As I finished off my drink, I
started to sweat, and I realized that we were getting closer and closer
together. My heart was beating faster, my head was spinning—the drink must have
really been a lot stronger than it seemed while I was drinking it. Zack’s arms
were around me and as the music pounded around us; my hips were right up
against his. I could feel his cock stirring in his pants; I had to admit, I
liked that I could still get a rise out of him even with all the other pretty
girls at the party. Someone handed Zack another drink in passing and we split
it; I didn’t even realize that I’d already gone over my pre-determined limit of
just one or two drinks for the sake of being at a party.

I felt every inch of Zack’s body pressed
up against mine as we danced together; it felt right—good in a way that I
couldn’t define, even while my brain buzzed with alcohol and the heavy bass of
the music. Zack’s face was only inches from mine, and I felt like I was in a
trance of a different kind. His hand slipped up along my back, cupping my neck,
slipping under my hair. “God, I fucking missed you,” Zack murmured, just loud
enough for me to hear, his lips right next to my ear. The next moment, he was
kissing me, his hands beginning to wander over my body, teasing me over my
clothes. He tasted like punch and beer, and the familiar taste of his lips—I
closed my eyes and tried not to let the room’s spinning make me fall over. I
wanted that kiss too much; I barely held myself up as we continued to dance,
grinding against each other, my hands trailing over his shoulders and along his
back. He was bigger than he had been when we’d dated before—his muscles harder,
more developed.

I lost all track of time and stopped even
being aware of where I was; nothing was as important as the kiss, the feeling
of Zack’s body against mine. I arched up against him, standing on the balls of
my feet, wanting to feel even more of him, wanting to feel his cock harden in
his pants. Zack sucked my bottom lip between his lips, nibbling on it with his
teeth, the same way he had used to kiss me before, the way that used to make me
weak in the knees. I shivered even though it was easily a hundred degrees in
the frat house main room, wondering—in the back of my mind—just what I was
doing. “Zack!” the sound of someone’s voice calling out broke through the haze
on my mind—it must have broken through Zack’s brain, too. We pulled apart all
at once, at the same time. I was panting a little, my heart pounding in my
chest, my whole body drenched in sweat.

I swallowed, my lips still tingling, my
whole body crackling from how hot the kiss had been. Zack turned his head in
the direction of whoever had called to him and raised a hand, acknowledging the
shout. The guy walked up—one of the other members of the frat, a grin on his
face as he handed something off to Zack. “I see you’ve found your piece of ass
tonight,” he said—he couldn’t have thought I’d hear him. The guy was unsteady
on his feet, and his eyes were glassy; he was obviously drunk. Or maybe, I
thought, the people who usually partied with the ‘bad boy frat’ were jaded
enough not to care about being called a piece of ass. But something about it
definitely bothered me. It sent a cold jolt through my body and I stepped back
from Zack, remembering everything that was going on around me—and everything I
had had in mind for the party. I had never had any intention of making out with
anyone; my goal had just been to enjoy myself and to watch out for Jess. The
last thing on my mind when I’d agreed to come out was that I’d make out with an
ex-boyfriend. I swallowed again, taking a deep breath.

“It’s really hot in here,” I said to Zack,
struggling to keep a smile on my face. “I need to see if I can find my friend;
I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”

Zack’s look of satisfaction fell from his
face in an instant.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Zack said, reaching
out to grab my hand. “Come on, Evie—if you need to cool off I can get you a
water or something.”

I shook my head and snatched my hand free,
trying not to make too much of a scene. My heart was pounding for a completely
different reason.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll…I’ll check out the
back yard and see if she’s there, maybe get some fresh air.”

I smiled again and darted away from Zack
before he could say anything else, plunging into the crowd. I closed my eyes
for a second, thinking what an idiot I had been. I should have stuck to my
plan. I should have just had a drink or two—ones I had mixed myself, not the
over-powered punch the frat was serving—and kept in sight of Jess, instead of
letting myself get distracted by Zack. The drunken brother’s comment, that I
was Zack’s piece of ass for the night, rattled around in my head. He didn’t
know what he was talking about, I told myself firmly. Even if we hadn’t been
distracted by the guy, I wouldn’t have gone to bed with Zack.

I went outside, but there was no sign of
Jess anywhere—and the people hanging around and in the pool were even drunker
than those inside. It reeked of pot and vomit, and as the alcohol continued to
hit my system I had to hold my breath to keep from puking at the smell. I
plunged back inside and breathed in the sweat-and-alcohol smell, surprised to
be relieved by it. I shook my head at myself; there was no way I’d be able to
find Jess in the crowd that packed the frat house. I pulled my phone out and looked
at it, hoping she had texted me. No such luck. I would have to keep looking.

I finally found Jess in one of the smaller
public areas of the frat house, sitting on a couch with an African American
frat member whose toga was sloppily wrapped around him. I wondered if that was
the guy that Jess had come to the party to meet up with or if she had given up
on the guy she’d been interested in and had taken the attention of this new guy
as a good second option. She looked pretty pleased with herself either way. I
hurried into the room, hoping that Zack wouldn’t come into it—that he had
already moved on to greener pastures, as much as the thought of him ending up
in bed with another girl after making out with me hurt, just a little.

“Jess,” I said, sitting down in the empty
spot next to her. “It’s time to go, girl.”

Jess turned to look at me, at least a
little drunk by the glassiness of her eyes, and grinned.

“Oh come on, the party’s just getting
good,” she said, reaching down and holding the guy’s hand. “Have one more drink
and then we’ll go.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew in her
current state of mind, Jess would be impossible to convince. I let the frat guy
she was with get one of the pledges to grab me another dose of punch. I wanted
to leave; the longer I stayed, the better the chances would be that Zack would
find me again, and that was—at that moment at least—the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I drank the punch as quickly as I could while Jess continued to
talk to the guy she was with, laughing at his jokes and cuddling up to him. I
finished off the punch and showed Jess the empty cup.

“I had another drink; I finished it, now
can we please go?”

I knew we’d only been there a couple of
hours—I’d checked the time when I looked to see if Jess had texted me. But I
wanted out of there. The night had been an unmitigated disaster, as far as I
was concerned. Jess finally relented and leaned in to give her companion a
long, sloppy kiss before she traipsed out of the room with me in tow. The last
cup of punch was going straight to my head and I dreaded the next morning, but
we managed to make our way out of the frat house without falling, and soon
enough, we were on the sidewalk headed back to the dorms, switching out our
heels for our flats so we wouldn’t sprain an ankle in the dark.

CHAPTER
TWO
 

The next morning, I woke up feeling as if
I had poison in my stomach. I buried my face against my pillow, groaning; my
head was pounding, every joint in my body felt like it was packed with broken
glass, and I was sure that if I moved too quickly, I’d throw up everywhere. I
managed to get out of my bed, crawling on my hands and knees to my desk. I
grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the bottom drawer—it was warm, but it would
help—and I rummaged in one of the other drawers until I found the bottle of
aspirin I kept for regular headaches. I pulled the shades over my window and
crawled back into bed, sipping Gatorade while I waited for the aspirin to kick
in. It had been ages since I’d had a hangover, and this one felt like it was
worse than the last one I’d ever gotten. That punch had been lethal.

My headache started to wear off, but I
still felt aches all over, and my stomach told me in no uncertain terms that if
I put anything else into it before the Gatorade was fully in my system, it
would punish me. I took a deep breath and told myself that a shower would make
it at least a little better. I managed to grab my towel and robe and staggered
out of my room; the walls swooped and twisted around me, the floor seemed to be
tilted. Somehow, I got into the bathroom and threw my things onto the
countertop before I lurched into the shower and sat down on the bench Jess had
bought the second week into term. I turned the water on; it was ice-cold and I
yelped in shock as it hit my hot skin. Definitely not a great way to improve
things.

It began to heat up and I sat underneath
the flow, letting it soak me from head to toe. I wondered as my brain started
to regain normal functioning if I had remembered to take my makeup off when
Jess and I had gotten in; it didn’t seem that important. I stayed on the bench
while I scrubbed, washing from head to toe. I still didn’t feel fully human,
but by the time I finally turned the water off, I thought I could at least
manage to stay upright, and maybe even eat something. I dried myself off and
wrapped the robe around myself and padded into the common area, keeping the
towel over my head as I sank down onto the couch and grabbed a box of cheese
crackers that was on the coffee table—anything in the common area was free
game. They were a little stale, but they tasted good; I thought longingly of a
nice, big cup of coffee.

Jess bounded out of her room with a smile
on her face, throwing herself on the couch next to me. “You should not even be
this chipper,” I said. My head still ached—not as much as before, but a dull
throbbing at my temples and behind my eyes that the aspirin didn’t seem to
touch.

“Ah, hungover are we?” I frowned at Jess
and she laughed. “You should have gotten the cure from me before you went to
bed.”

I rolled my eyes in spite of the fact that
it sent a cold jolt of pain through my skull.

“What’s the cure?”

Jess leaned against me. She was in
pajamas, and she had somehow managed to take a shower either right when we’d
gotten back, or earlier in the morning than I had.

“Oh, you drink a whole bottle of water and
eat a big bowl of ramen before you go to bed. Works every time.”

I shuddered. “I can’t even imagine how
that would even do anything about the fact that I feel like someone tried to
poison me.”

Jess rumpled my hair with the towel.
“We’ll go down to the dining hall and get some pancakes in you and you’ll be
good as new.”

On the weekends, the dining hall did
brunch through the early afternoon, with pancakes and make-your-own waffles.
I’d gone a few times even though I hadn’t been out late the night before, just
to keep Jess company and because there were some lunch items I liked.

“These crackers are doing me just fine for
right now. But you’re kind of a bitch for insisting I have that last drink—just
so you know.”

Jess laughed. “You didn’t have to; you
could have totally faked that shit. I was pretty drunk myself.”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t worth fighting over
then. It is now, though.”

Jess got up and went into her room, coming
back with a can of coffee—barely chilled. She put it in my hands and I cracked
it; it wasn’t as good as a hot coffee, but it would do the job.

“So tell me about that guy you were
talking to last night,” she said, her bright blue eyes dancing.

I shrugged, feeling my face burn. “Eh.
He’s not important.”

Jess raised her eyebrows. “Oh come on, you
wouldn’t have talked to him if he wasn’t important. I saw him make a beeline to
you. You know each other, don’t you?”

I shrugged again, not wanting to admit how
turned on—and then how turned off—I had been the night before, all because of
Zack.