Going off to college, I’d received the talk from my parents. Not the one about sex, that’d come years before, but rather the one about parties, and drinking, and all of that. My parents and RJ had all reminded me to always get my own drink at a party, to never leave a drink unattended. They’d all been worried that I’d be slipped some date rape drug. I hadn’t done much in the way of partying, but I’d always been careful the few times I had gone out. I’d fully intended to continue being careful while living in LA. And I’d thought I had been careful. I hadn’t gotten drinks from a stranger. I’d gotten a bottle of water and two shots. Two shots straight from the bartender. What had happened? I hadn’t realized I was hyperventilating until I felt Cross put his hand on my elbow and lead me back to the couch. He sat next to me, his voice low and soothing, telling me to take slow, deep breaths. His hand slid up and down my spine, but there was nothing sexual about his touch, only comfort.
What do You think about The Billionaires Sub (2015)?
