Off Limits
I exhale and slip into my room, closing the door behind me.
The dress comes off in a puddle of silk on the floor. I stand in front of the mirror in my bra and underwear, and I barely recognize myself. My hair is a mess. My lips are swollen. There's a mark on my collarbone—a bruise, dark and small, the shape of his mouth.
I touch it. My fingers come away warm.
I pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants, the baggiest ones I own, and I'm about to open the door when I hear it—Caleb's voice, low and easy, answering something Callum said. Laughter. The clink of bottles.