Paint You Wings

Twenty-one

**One Week Later**

My back crashes against the mattress as the green-eyed-beauty above me starts working his hot kisses down my neck.

I try to push away the thought of Aaron. He came back today. We haven't talked. I've slept with fourteen people in one week.

How low can I get?

His teeth rip the laces from my corset and I feel air rush into my lungs. His lips are back on mine as his left hand works his way up my exposed thigh. He reaches the rim of my skirt and pushes it up.

Breaking the kiss, he undresses and hovers over me. As he pushes my underwear to the side, my body fills with anticipation.

And then he thrusts inside of me, and I can't seem to remember my name.

But all I see is Aaron's face.

***

I wake up just as light leaks through the broken blinds. I look behind me to see a man with sandy brown hair. His face isn't as gorgeous as my drunken state thought it was, but his body is. Muscles rip through his arms and abs strongly define his exposed torso.

He stretches and I panic. Getting off the bed as lightly as I can, I find my clothes and get dressed quickly. Then I remember how he ripped my corset.

"Fuck," I whisper.

Feeling helpless, I pick up a shirt from the floor and replace it with my corset. I throw the white v-neck over my head and gather the contents of my handbag.

I know he's awake when I click the door shut, but I don't turn back. I walk swiftly to the door, heels and bag in hand.

The fresh air greets me. I breathe it in and compose myself. Although I have a pounding headache, I start my walk down the road. Embarrassingly, this guy lives in a neighborhood. A few families with younger kids are outside playing, and everyone I pass on the street gives me a judgmental look.

I sigh when I get to the bus stop at the end of the road. As I sit on the bench, someone with a strong smelling cologne approaches me.

"Rough night?" He laughs.

I look up to see a man with blonde hair and brown eyes. He's wearing a Florida t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

I shrug and stare off into the direction the bus will come from. "Something like that,"

I see him nod out of the corner of my eye before joining me on the bench.

"I know who you are," He whispers into my ear.

My eyebrows knit together in confusion and I look at him. His face is highly familiar, but I can't seem to remember where I've seen it.

"What?"

"Annabelle Smith, right?"

I bite my lip and nod. "Who're you?"

"I'm a friend of your dads."

I roll my eyes and groan loudly. Aaron must've talked to him. "Did he tell you to find me?" Then a thought occurs. "How did you find me?"

"He didn't tell me to find you. I live here. Saw you walking by and thought I'd see what's up."

As I open my mouth to spill my guts to a total stranger, the bus turns the corner signaling me to shut up.

"That's my bus. I've gotta go." The bus pulls up the bench and I walk up the steps as the door opens.

I pay the driver and take a seat in the middle. As I pull out my headphones and phone, it buzzes.

I stare at the screen in shock. My mouth goes dry and I read the text from Aaron: Can we meet up?