Private Lessons

Chapter 1

FOUR YEARS LATER

Pov: Hope

The blood runs through my veins and I close my eyes, shuddering, pulling the blankets. In my head, her soft skin slides under me. Her breasts press and tremble against mine, soft and warm. My thigh pushes between her legs, my fingers tighten around her wrists, my lips press against her throat, burning. My legs tighten and tremble, a drop of sweat drips down the back of my neck. I squeeze the sheets of the bed, my body tightens like a spring, waiting for the impact that is getting closer and closer, and...

And nothing.

My breathing slows. I let myself fall on my mattress, take my hand out from my panties and look at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. A low machine gun line hits through the walls of my room. It's Friday night and my roommates are getting ready for the party their having.

A tear falls from one side of my nose and soaks my sheet.

When I recover, I go to the party, the room is full of lights, of acidic, distorted and changing colors, all these colors fall on people's faces like the waves of the ocean. The bodies jump and get tangled in the dark. Someone has broken luminous rods and they are shining on people's arms like electric jewelry.

"Hope!" I turn around and see a guy with a crooked smile and a hockey jacket, he's leaning over the kitchen table. I've never seen him before." I have some lemonade. Do you want a drink?

He scanned the room. Everyone seems to be having fun. I see two of my roommates collapsing on the couch, kissing deeply. I don't even remember the last time I kissed someone. What is the point of kissing? Kissing only leads to sex. I prefer to save myself from disappointment.

"Yes, thank you." I usually don't drink, but I'm too sad to be at a sober party.

"There it is, baby. Vodka lemonade." I take a deep drink, it burns my mouth so hard that I almost drowned. His breath is hot in my ear. The drinks are cheap. Better just take it, so your mouth doesn't burn." He hits his glass against mine and throws it back, swallowing it in a drink.

I hate alcohol. The only way I can get all the liquid from my glass is by doing the same thing as him, so I do the same, he threw it back. I took what was in the glass.

"You're a good girl." He smiles, wrapping his arm around my waist. I try to get him away from me, but he just squeezes. Aw, come on, baby, relax.

"I'm not interested in you." I turn around to push him. Let me go.

"Clarke, who the hell invited you?" A voice comes out behind me. And what the hell are you doing with Andrea?" Every muscle in my body relaxes while my best friend, Josie, makes her way through the crowd, taking me out of his arms. She looks at Clarke over my shoulder. She is mine.

Jesus. Good. "Raise your hands." "Can I at least look?" he says in a mocking tone.

"No." She kisses my cheek, caressing me. It smells like perfume and whiskey. My heart is beating. Get out of my house, damn it." Clarke sneaks into the crowd, while I look at Josie.

"My name is not Andrea," I find myself telling her, once again. It's Hope. Hopey. Nobody calls me Andrea.

"Why?" Have you never been called that, Andrea?" She makes me turn around so I can look better, her gaze goes down my dress. Wow. Shit. You look beautiful, baby.

She does too. Her brown hair is freshly washed, falling beyond her shoulders, and she wears a black blouse with straps that show the subtle muscles of her arms. I took another drink to avoid staring at the soft and white swelling of her breasts over the neckline of her shirt. She is so beautiful that I feel dizzy just thinking about her.