The small group I've been placed in knows nothing about literature, my irritation growing. There are so many blatantly obvious questions and it irritates me to think that these sophomores in college know nothing about the subject.
When we finish, I go out to get some food and I take a break. I look over some notes as I eat and I hear another person enter the shop. It doesn't distract me and I tap my pencil, reading the excerpt.
"Carly?" I hear someone say, my head turning up to look. Harry stands, carrying a journal in his hand and carrying a few books.
"Hey. You wanna sit?" I wonder, his shoulders shrugging. He seems so quiet and I manage to get him to sit, his hesitancy unknown. I wish he'd just talk to me. He seems like a nice guy.
"How did the paper writing go?" I ask, his hands unleashing his books onto the table.
"Easier," he tells me, my lips curving. I glance back down at the assignment and write something, but his words pull me out of the haze. "Thanks. It helped."
I look back up at him and he gives me a small grin, enough to notice two dimples residing against his smooth cheeks.
"Trust me, the less you look at, the less overwhelming everything is," I explain, his lips pursing. "So what are you studying?"
He takes a deep breath, letting his nerves out. "I'm, uh, studying to be a writer. I write," he says, my lips curving.
"That's cool. What do you write about?" I ask, trying to get him to open up. He seems to need that extra push to go out of the introvert stage.
"My...My experiences. But I-I like to write about life; aspects," he explains, my head nodding. What an interesting subject.
"So are you in psychology too?" I wonder, his head shaking.
"I'm just, um, trying to write what I feel," he explains, my smile broadening. What a very personal boy. He knows what he knows and writes on it.
"That's fascinating. So do you wish to be published?" I ask out of curiosity. But his eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, my eyebrows furrowing. Wants to be a writer but doesn't want to be published...seems contradictory and out of the ordinary.
"And why not?" I push, his hand running through his hair.
"I-I can't...people judge. They can't read it. No judgments," he rushes, my hand reaching to his arm. I brush my thumb on his wrist and he widens his eyes.
"Relax. It's okay," I tell him, his breathing calming. He gets worked up quickly and I'm afraid he might have a panic attack on me. Harry sighs and I let go, allowing him a moment to catch up with himself.
I go back to my homework and he leans against the table, his lower lip taken between his teeth. I can tell he's starting to worry less about what I think of him, solely on the fact judging people only hurts yourself.
"I-I have to go," he says, my head tilting to look up at him.
"Okay. I'll see you around," I tell him, his rush slowing down. He takes a deep breath and grabs his books, my eyes following his actions.
"Bye Carly," he tells me, my lips curving. I wave and he walks out, my head turning back to my work. I stay for at least another hour before going back to my dorm, getting ready for the party tonight.
Once I have a black bra on, a sheer top, and a shorts, I walk over to the frat house. My usual go to at the parties is not in sight and I go grab a drink, walking around. A lot of boys say hi to me and I just acknowledge them, then my boy comes along.
"It's 'bout time you got here," Parker says, sliding his hands against my waist.
"You feelin' up to anything?" I ask, moving my head to the side as he pushes me against the wall to kiss my neck.
"More than you know," he groans, my hand reaching down. I grip him over his jeans and he groans, my eyes closing as he sucks my sweet spot.
Parker and I have been doing this for a year, always going to each other. There's no commitment and it has only helped relieve stress.
"My truck's out back," he whispers, my head nodding. He takes my hand and we walk out the back, but I stop him.
"Wait," I say, his eyes looking into mine. I smile, closing my eyes as I listen to the song. "I love this song."
I feel him step behind me and I set my hand over his when he grabs my waist. He lightly moves his hips against mine and I lean my head back.
"Carly, I'm gonna take you," he whispers, my head turning to look at him. He runs me into the back and we get to his truck, both of us looking around before we get into the back.
My shorts are removed and he takes his pants down, but first spreads my legs and leans down. He starts to kiss up my thighs and parts my panties, pressing his mouth against me. I'm soaked for him and he pleasures me, my hands moving into his hair.
"Give me your cock," I groan, his body lifting. He moves his boxers down and he strokes his length before plunging into me. I gasp, grabbing his shirt and begging for more.
"Oh my fuck," I groan, his hand tight on my waist.
"So good, Carls. Shit," he moans, moving his hand down and circling my clit. I'm on my high in minutes, Parker always making me feel good so fast.
He pulls out and kneels up, my hand grabbing his cock. I start to pleasure him and he comes down my throat, my hand pumping a few more times.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he says, kissing my forehead. We barely kiss on the lips, only when we're really feeling it.
"I need a drink," I tell him, his head burying into my neck.
"No. I need round two soon," he whispers, my eyes rolling but I smile. I just lay back on the seat and feel his lips wander against my skin, my eyes closing.
"I need you to ride my dick," he whispers, my body sitting up. He sits and I straddle his lap, moving him into me. My hands tighten in his hair and I ride him, his face buried between my breasts.
"Fuck me," he groans, my hips colliding with his quickly.
I come and he pushes me back, moving his come onto his stomach. While he calms down, I kiss his neck and he squeezes my ass.
"Perfect," he whispers, and I smile. I'm exhausted and my night has only begun.
~~~
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