Chapter 17: ● S I X T E E N | Alcohol ●

† Q U I N N †

There's a fine line between enjoying life's pleasures and escaping from its pains. Somewhere in that line lies a glass. Alcohol can be like anesthesia, numbing us from life's aches and pains, but it never truly washes them away. You can't drown your sorrows in a drink—they know how to swim. That's why they say, "Drink when you're happy, but never because you're miserable. Because as the buzz fades, those same old pains will still be waiting for you, right where you left them.

Weekends are usually my favorite time of the week. They're the days when I can drink as much as I want and have fun with women who are eager to say yes to my kinks in exchange for sex. But today is different; I feel no desire to leave the dorm. The cold bathroom floor and the vodka bottle beside me are my only companions tonight.

"Quinn? Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Elise knocks on the bathroom door.

"I'm okay, El. You go have fun," I reply from the other side. I hear the front door open and close, signaling that Elise has left the dorm.

I can't quite put my finger on what's happening inside me. A whirlwind of emotions swirls around—emptiness, loneliness, weakness, darkness. I feel like I have no one right now. The thought of hooking up with random women doesn't seem appealing or capable of easing what I'm feeling. All I want is to hear that one voice again, to listen to those words that used to make me smile, words that lifted the heaviness in my chest. The only time I heard them was when I did something to myself.

I sat back down on the floor, leaving only my sports bra and underwear on. In my hand, I held the small metal case, flipping it open to grab a single, thin sheet. I stared at it for a long moment before my gaze shifted to my thighs—my canvas of misery. Scars and cuts, some healing, others fresh, marking every inch like silent witnesses to my desperation and messed up life. I grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a few swigs, letting the burn wash over me as the alcohol numbed whatever inhibitions I had left.

Slowly, I pressed the thin sheet of paper against my skin, holding it there for a moment before slicing across my thigh. I watched as a red line appeared, a fresh cut, with blood slowly seeping out. I froze, staring blankly at it, waiting. But there was nothing. Silence. Frustration bubbled up, and I flipped the paper, making another cut. I paused again, listening for anything that might break through the quiet. Still, nothing.

"Fucking hell!" I shouted, taking another long chug from the vodka bottle. I pulled out another sheet, desperate for something, anything. Another slash. But still, nothing. No release, no sound, I can't hear her voice.

"Why can't I hear it?" I whispered, gripping the crumpled paper in my hand, my frustration turning to desperation as the silence suffocated me.

It was 2 AM when I jolted awake, feeling dizzy and disoriented. I blinked a few times, realizing I was in my bed, my phone's playing music through the speaker. The events of the night were a blur, especially what happened earlier in the bathroom. I looked down and noticed I was still in just my underwear and sports bra—several new cuts on my skin, adding to my canvas.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled to the closet and pulled on a pair of joggers. I stepped out into the living room, which was shrouded in darkness, save for the light spilling from Elise's room. She must have come back from the party.

I made my way to the fridge, opening it with a soft hum. I grabbed a bottle of beer and chugged it down in one go—bottoms up. The cold liquid felt refreshing, but I exhaled deeply, feeling like it wasn't enough. I reached for another bottle, planning to take it back to my room.

Just as I turned to head back, I heard Elise's door creak open and then shut softly.

I turned around and saw a shadowy figure slowly approaching the fridge. I stayed still, watching her move through the dimly lit room. The darkness shrouded her, but I could make out her silhouette as she groggily shuffled toward the fridge.

She opened it, the cool light spilling out, illuminating her face as she reached for a bottle of water. In that moment, the fridge light highlighted her emerald green eyes, which sparkled like gems in the dark.

As she turned to grab a glass, the light helped her see, but suddenly she froze. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the shock wash over her face.

"Fuck! Quinn?!" she gasped, startled by my presence.

† C H L O E †

Alcohol is like a bottle of emotions waiting to spill out. It can uncover feelings hidden deep inside, whether they're joy, sadness, anger, or secret desires. While it doesn't solve your problems, it doesn't let you forget them either. Instead, it blurs the edges of what you wish you could push away. The tricky part about drinking is that it makes you face the feelings you're scared to confront when you're sober.

My heart raced when I first saw a shadowy figure standing there, but the fear faded as I realized who it was.

"Quinn?" I called softly. She stayed quiet, leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing just joggers and a sports bra, holding a bottle in her hand.

"How was the party?" she finally spoke, her tone calm and unreadable.

"It was good! Elise was having a blast. She met a few guys, but nothing serious. We kept an eye on her," I said, a hint of pride in my voice. Quinn just hummed in response. "She got a bit too drunk, though. I didn't realize her tolerance was that low. After just three martinis, she was chatting nonstop. I had to carry her back here because she's too hammered." I chuckled at the memory, but Quinn only hummed again, her gaze still fixed on the bottle in her hand.

As I stood there, I couldn't shake the memory of that night in the library. The way my heart raced, and my mind overflowed with thoughts I couldn't control. Quinn always had that effect on me, especially when she got that dark, seductive look in her eyes. I snapped back to the present, trying to ground myself.

"Something wrong?" I asked, hoping to distract myself from the way her presence stirred me.

"Nothing," she replied, "just glad you all enjoyed the party." Though the room was dim, the light from the kitchen illuminated her face, and I caught the faint curve of a smile on her lips.

My heart sped up. Those lips. Why did they have such a hold over me? This is absurd. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to steady myself. It had to be the alcohol playing tricks on me, right?

My heart pounded, and I felt a mix of nerves and something else stirring inside me that I couldn't quite explain. But somehow, staring at her lips gave me this sudden surge of confidence, and before I knew it, I was moving toward her. "It would've been fun if you joined us earlier," I said, feeling the words spill out with a strange boldness.

"I don't think so, Chloe," she replied, her voice calm but serious. I couldn't help but wonder—was she mad?

"Are you mad at me?" The question left my lips before I could stop it.

"No, why?" she asked, watching me closely. I didn't know what to say. I just stood there, silent, facing her, feeling the weight of the unspoken words hanging between us.

"Dennis asked me to have sex last night." I couldn't believe I had just blurted that out.

She didn't react much, just hummed. "I guess he's not boring you anymore," she said, her eyes never leaving mine. That steady gaze made my heart skip, and I shifted my focus from her eyes to her lips. Instantly, I felt a warmth creeping up my cheeks.

"I don't think I'll ever know," I admitted, my voice quieter now, almost shaky. I licked my lips, feeling drawn to hers as if something invisible was pulling me in.

"Why?" she asked, still calm, her eyes locked onto mine, and that simple question felt heavy with meaning.

"I don't think my ex-boyfriend would want me back," I said softly, stepping closer to her, merely inches between us now. She didn't respond, just kept staring at me, and I found myself trapped in her gaze, like everything else in the room faded away.

In a blur, her hand found my waist, and before I could process it, I was the one backed up against the kitchen counter, trapped between her arms. Her presence felt overwhelming, intoxicating in a way I couldn't deny. "You left the library with him so easily last night, Chloe. Did he hurt you?" Her voice was low, dripping with something dangerous, and I could feel the heat of her breath just inches from my face. Her eyes locked onto mine, intense and unwavering.

I could feel my knees weakening beneath me, my cheeks flushed with heat, and an undeniable tingling sensation slowly building between my thighs. "No, he didn't hurt me," I managed to say, though my voice wavered. "I just... my mind was somewhere else when we kissed, and I couldn't ignore it." My breaths grew shallow, my chest rising and falling with every word. She hummed in response, her thumb grazing my waist in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was maddening.

Her stare was suffocating in the best possible way, melting me from the inside out. Our faces were mere inches apart, the tension between us almost unbearable. "What's so important that it distracted you in the middle of an almost hook up, gorgeous?" she whispered, her lips drawing closer to mine, so close they were barely brushing.

Without thinking, my hands instinctively moved to her waist, holding on as if I'd crumble otherwise. My body trembled with anticipation, thighs pressed tightly together, trying to hold back the overwhelming flood of desire coursing through me. It felt like I was on the edge of something dangerous, something thrilling—and I didn't know how much longer I could hold on.

"I... I... was..." My mind was a battlefield, words desperately clawing their way to the surface, but I was fighting to hold them back. Oh God, I thought, as the alcohol clouded my focus, making everything feel more intense, more dangerous.

My hands moved on their own, fingers grazing across her toned abs, sliding over her chest, until they found their way to her shoulders. The moment I touched her, I heard a soft groan escape her lips, sending shivers down my spine. My gaze drifted helplessly to her mouth, and I could feel my pulse quickening, every beat echoing in my ears as my breathing grew shallow and erratic.

"Quinn..." That was all I managed to say, the only word that escaped my lips as the rest of me surrendered to the pull of the moment, the tension between us thickening, almost suffocating. I was too far gone to turn back now.

"Chloe..." she whispered my name with a breathy intensity that sent my pulse racing even faster. I could feel her hand move slowly, teasing its way up my inner thigh, each gentle stroke igniting sparks across my skin. My breath hitched as my body reacted instinctively, arching against her, pressing into the warmth and strength of her form. Her fingers stopped just inches from where I needed her touch most, hovering over my lingerie, driving me to the edge.

"Tell me... what... can't... you... ignore?" Her voice was low, almost a growl, and it felt like sweet torture. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and my hands gripped her shoulders tightly, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming tension.

"Your... your lips... your lips bother me, Quinn," I finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a breathless confession. The satisfaction in her eyes and the low groan that followed made it clear she liked my answer.

Her other hand cradled my neck, gently guiding my chin upward, forcing me to look into her eyes. Then, without warning, she leaned in, her teeth grazing my lower lip before giving it a teasing bite. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and before I could stop it, a soft moan escaped my lips, betraying the depth of my desire. I couldn't hold back anymore, not when her touch and presence consumed every part of me.

As my lower lip slipped from her teasing bite, she tilted my head gently to the side, her thumb tracing over the healed cuts she had left on my neck. "This is long overdue, gorgeous. I still haven't paid my end of the deal," she whispered, her eyes fixated on my skin, dark and full of intent.

My breath caught, uneven. "Those cuts... they were meant so you wouldn't hurt your roommate, Quinn," I managed to say, though my voice was shaky, betraying the building tension inside me.

She hummed softly, her hand still gripping my inner thigh, fingers pressing just enough to send waves of heat through me. "There was no reason for me to hurt El, Chloe. I never touched her," she murmured, her grip on my thigh tightening slightly but staying maddeningly in place.

A soft moan escaped my lips at her touch. "I–I know. She told me," I breathed out, each word feeling heavier than the last.

Quinn's face inched closer, her lips brushing mine with the lightest touch, teasing, just out of reach and I could feel her breath mixing with mine. "Then you know how stupid and such a waste these cuts were, don't you, Chloe?" she whispered against my lips. Her words hung in the air, thick and intoxicating. "Are you finally claiming my end of the deal?" Her voice was low, dripping with lust, and her eyes burned with an intensity that had me drowning in her gaze.

"Quinn..." It was all I could manage, the sound barely more than a breath. Her words, her touch—they were driving me to the edge, pulling me in deeper than I'd ever been before.

"What do you want, Chloe? Say it," she demanded, her eyes locked on mine, burning with an urgency that matched the fire in my own chest. My body was screaming, my mind on the brink of giving in completely. I felt like I was losing myself in her, consumed by her presence, unable to fight the overwhelming need anymore.

"You... you, Quinn." My voice trembled along with my body, my lips barely able to form the words. I tried to close the gap between us, desperate to feel her lips against mine, but her firm grip on my neck held me in place, keeping control.

She chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Say it, Chloe. What do you want from me?" Her hand on my thigh began to loosen, as if teasingly retreating, making my heart race with frustration.

"Damn it, Quinn. Touch me! Touch me already, please," I finally broke, surrendering completely, my breath heavy and pleading.

In a swift motion, her hand moved from my neck to the back of my nape, pulling me into her with a fierce urgency, crashing our lips together. Oh God! Her lips—soft yet commanding, sending waves of sensation through my entire body. We kissed hungrily, a raw exchange of desire, and I couldn't help but moan into her mouth. Every part of me was consumed with the need to taste her, to feel her even closer.

As our mouths devoured each other, her other hand slid back up my thigh, sending a spark of anticipation through me. My breath hitched as I felt her fingers finally press against the fabric covering my pussy. She groaned softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, as her fingers traced between my folds, teasing me through my lingerie.

My back arched, pressing into her touch, overwhelmed by the heat building inside me. And when her fingers found my clit, gently rubbing and playing with it, I couldn't help the loud moan that escaped my lips. My mouth opened wider, giving her the opportunity she didn't waste. Her tongue slipped inside, stroking mine, teasing, and coaxing me into a dance I knew she would win.

Our tongues battled for dominance, but she was in control—her every movement sent me spiraling further into a state of want, of need. I was at her mercy, and every part of me was eager to submit.

I was drowning in sensation—Quinn's lips on mine and her relentless fingers rubbing my clit. I could feel the climax building, pushing me closer to the edge with every stroke. Shit! Her hand hadn't even slipped beneath my lingerie, yet I was already teetering on the verge of release. She'd been driving me wild, teasing me with words and touches that pushed me further and further over the edge. I couldn't let go yet; it was too fast. I needed to hold it back.

But she could feel the tension on me—my body betraying me, trembling, tensing, as my nails dug into her shoulders, desperate to hold on. She knew. And then—fuck—instead of slowing down, her fingers moved faster, harder, sending me spiraling further. She wanted me to lose control, to break beneath her touch.

"No, Quinn! Not yet. Please." I begged, my voice trembling, but she didn't stop. Her eyes locked onto mine with a determined intensity—ignoring my plea, and she kept going, her fingers tracing maddening circles over my clit. My knees buckled, my legs shaking uncontrollably, and I could feel my eyes rolling back as I bit my lower lip. "Quinn, I–I'm gonna come if you don't stop!" My voice was shaky, pleading, but she seemed deaf to my cries, her smirk deepening as she saw how close I was, as if she relished the control she had over me.

Desperate, I grabbed her, pulling her closer, our lips crashing together again. My hand snaked around her neck, nails digging into her skin as the other tugged at her hair. A loud moan escaped me, muffled by her mouth as the wave of climax hit, crashing through me like fire. My entire body trembled, weakening, and Quinn's hands steadied me, one on my back, the other holding my ass, keeping me upright as I rode out the storm.

"Fuck," I whispered softly, frustration lacing my voice. That was too fast. My mind was still reeling from how quickly she'd undone me. I hadn't expected it to happen so soon, so intensely.

Quinn gently lifted my chin, her gaze meeting mine, her lips slightly parted, the hint of a satisfied smirk playing on them. Her tongue traced the inside of her cheek as if she was savoring a secret.

"Who said we were done, gorgeous?" she murmured, as if she could read my mind, knowing exactly what I was thinking. And that smirk told me she was far from finished.