Chapter Text
The cool winter breeze washes through your hair as your leather boots pad on the sidewalk on your way to Stradlater's room. You knew what kind of 'man' he was: arrogant, passes through girls every week, every day. Yet, you still go to his dorm. Why? You're so god damn sick of your friends making fun of you for never having a date. You know Stradlater would have absolutely anything on his arm, so you know it's a safe bet.
The reek of boys makes you almost scowl: the smell of damp, of old sweat, of stale jizz. God, you're glad you go to an all girls school. The heated inside makes your fingers feel numb in contrast to the snow outside. All around the halls are cases full of awards, paper stuck to brick walls advertising events or clubs, framed photos of alumni, photos of men on horses jumping over hurdles. You spot a few men walking the hallways around you, every time they see you; they stop and stare. Not because you're particularly eye-candy, but more because you're simply a female in their general vicinity. Some of them even look cocky enough to try and approach you.
Thankfully you find the door number you have written on a little crumpled paper sheet. You rap the door with your knuckle, your stomach churning at the thought of him. You think about running. You think about standing him up. But then you imagine your friends with a handsome boy on their arm, and you alone. It gets worse when you hear the squeak of converse come to the door. It opens, but instead of the heartthrob, there's just a roughed-up looking boy. His eye bags are so dark and deep they almost look like black eyes. He was tall, so tall you had to crane your neck to look at him. He was thin as a rake as well, so much so you could see Stradlater right behind him. His hair was cropped tight to his face and jet black, with sprinkles of white all around. Covering it all was a red hunting hat with a long, long peak, worn backwards.
"Stradlater!" He shouts in the back, before letting me in. My eyes dart from place to place as I inspect everything. Stradlater's side, covered in posters of famous athletes and half naked women along with sports ribbons he's won, is decently neat until you notice the dirty razor on the bedside table, the clothes hidden under the bed and in his sheet, and the little nail clippings everywhere - were they even his? The other side of the room, however, was perfectly normal: books stacked on a bedside table, a lighter perched on top of them all, a houndstooth jacket laid on the headboard of the bed, and sitting right atop said bed was the kid who let me in, laying back with a book in his hands.
Stradlater takes your hand suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss, which you dodge and let land on your cheek. "Holden, m'boy!" Stradlater called out. So that's his name. "Y'gotta date t'nite?"
“Nah.." He put his book face down, staring at his shoes awkwardly between glancing at you.
"Come with me and..." he had forgotten your name...of course... "Uh- We'll keep ya good company!" he smirked. A reluctant nod was all it took for us to leave with this new stranger.
The back of Ed Banky's car wasn't pleasant. Stradlater had you pinned against the backseat. He was all tongue, no lip. You didn’t understand why all your friends were engrossed over him being the best kisser out of all the boys at Pencey. He tugged at your shirt fumbling with the buttons. You pulled his hand away thinking it’ll make him stop. He tugged again. You pull his hand away again. He tugged again. “Can you stop, dickhead?” you manage to murmur out.
“What do you mean stop?”
“I don't wanna do that,”
“Don’t be like that, baby, cmon..”
You hated being called that.
“Fucking stop, I’m serious..”
“Baby c'mon don’t be so—“
“She said stop Stradlater c’mon..” you heard a voice mumble. He looked up from you,
“Excuse me?”
It was Holden, you almost forgot he was in the front seat, having to endure hearing you two making out in the back. His eyes were only looking at you through the mirror. “You heard me, don’t be a douche, get off her, I mean it.” Stradlater grumbled under his breath and got off you. When you went back to the dorms, there was weird tension in the air. Every one was pissed at Stradlater, and he was pissed at you both. You still wished them both goodnight and walked out into the hallway, but immediately heard the sound of yelling. Then a punch and a groan, and the sound of furniture falling over. Boys. Of course they’re fighting. After things seemed to die down, you see Holden walking out of the dorm room going to the bathrooms to clean up, you run to him.
“Hey, you!”
He turned around to see you, smiling weakly in contrast to his bloody, black and blue face. “Hey.”