Chapter 152: History Repeats Itself (BC)
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*Present day*
It seemed like every spring dug into my spine as Patrick settled heavier across my hips. He had quickly stripped away my hoodie and jeans, leaving me in just the plain gray boxer-briefs I’d thrown on that morning.
I wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore; my arms just lay limp at my sides, fingers curled against the faded comforter, because deep down I knew struggling would only make them laugh louder.
Patrick’s grin was wide and slick as he hovered above me, his teeth unnaturally white in the dim orange light seeping through the half-closed blinds. He lifted a hand and wiped the tears from my cheek with his thumb, and though the move seemed almost gentle, it was underlined by the sight of his bitten nails and the cheap vodka stench on his breath.
"Don’t cry, Noah," he said, voice dripping with mockery. "You’re so fucking pretty when you cry. Makes me even harder." His thumb slid lower, smearing my tears across my bottom lip. "Relax, baby. I’m actually really good at this. Both guys and girls usually beg me to keep going once I get started."
Disgusting.
From somewhere behind him, maybe near the door or leaning against the dresser, Liam let out a low, ugly chuckle.
Jace snorted, "Yeah, right," and the two of them burst into laughter that scraped across my skin like broken glass.
Patrick kept his gaze locked on mine. "You know this is your fault, right?" he murmured, shifting so that the rough denim of his jeans brushed against my bare thighs. "Walking around school in those tight shirts, biting your lip when you think nobody’s watching. You’ve been teasing us all year, little fag. If you weren’t so damn hot as fuck all of a sudden since the start of the semester, we wouldn’t even be here."