Page 84 of Ashen Souls

He shut his mouth.

“I already have one force treating my body like a battleground.” The words spilled out faster than I could stop them. “I don’t need you treating my head like one. I came here tonight to forget. To stop analyzing every single choice I make.”

The music pounded behind us, oblivious to the fact that everything between us was fracturing.

“And then you walk through that door,” I continued, “and suddenly I’m supposed to be the adult again. I have to be careful. Reasonable. Responsible.”

“That’s not what I…”

“If you need to be the responsible professor who walks away,” I cut in, “then walk away.”

He didn't flinch, but the warmth in his eyes disappeared, leaving only cold, hard flint.

“But I’m staying,” I said. “And I’m done apologizing for wanting one single night that belongs only to me.”

Ethan looked like he might argue, or worse—like he might reach out and grab me again. His jaw locked, the tendons in his neck pulling taut against his collar.

Instead, he just nodded. Once. “I didn’t come here to complicate things.”

“And yet,” I echoed his own words.

I turned my back on him and walked straight into the crowd, letting the crush of hot bodies bury me.

I drank whatever was handed to me. I danced. I let anonymous hands spin me, pull me close, shouting jokes I couldn't hear into my ear. I didn’t care who they were or what they wanted. I just needed the music to be loud enough to rattle the thoughts right out of my skull.

But through the lights, I caught sight of him.

He was still standing by the wall, a pillar of stillness against the chaos. Even across the room, I could feel the weight of his stare. I saw the ugly, possessive flare in his eyes every time a stranger’s hands settled on my hips. He looked feral, stripped of his polished restraint, like he was one second away from crossing the floor, ripping whoever was holding me out of the way, and dragging me out the door.

But he didn’t move. He let his rules win.

And for the first time, I decided I didn’t care.

I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and let the music drown him out.

22

Aloud, ungraceful snore rattled into my ear.

I cracked one eye open. Harper was lying face-down next to me, one arm thrown across my ribs, dead to the world.

“Thank God,” I rasped. My throat felt like sandpaper.

She shifted with a groan, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the morning light.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, taking a mental inventory of the damage without moving my neck. My brain felt swollen, pressing against the inside of my skull. My tongue tasted like stale vodka. And the cold draft hitting my thighs told me I was missing some layers.

I lifted the blanket an inch. My underwear was intact, but the dress was gone.

I risked turning my head to scan the disaster zone of the room. The desk chair was buried under a pile of laundry, but none of it looked like the black dress I’d left in. I just hoped it was crumpled in a corner somewhere, rather than starring in the dorm group chat.

“How the hell did I get here?” I whispered.

The last clear memory I had involved dancing, laughing, and drinking something that had not tasted like alcohol and therefore definitely was. After that, my brain offered me a blank void.

I tried to roll over and immediately regretted it. A wave of nausea pitched in my stomach.

“Never drinking again,” I croaked.