I pushed through the cafeteria doors, and the noise hit me like a wave—voices, laughter, the clatter of trays, the hum of a hundred conversations all tangled together. My tray was empty in my hands, my body still buzzing from the hallway, from all those hands, from the way everyone here just seemed to want to be close to me.
I took a step. Then another. The smell of food drifted past, and I realized I was hungry. Really hungry. I hadn't eaten since—
A hand grabbed my wrist.
Not gentle. Firm. Pulling.
"Elena! There you are!"
I stumbled sideways, my tray tilting, and before I could catch my balance I was surrounded. Bodies pressed against me from every direction—warm, solid, insistent. A girl I didn't recognize was suddenly right in front of me, her face bright, her smile wide, her palm flat against my chest.
"I've been looking all over for you," she said, and her fingers curled into the neckline of my top, tugging it down. "You're the new transfer, right? Everyone's been talking about you."
"They have?" I asked, my voice coming out breathless. My heart swelled. People were talking about me. They wanted to meet me.
"Of course they have." Her hand slid deeper, her knuckles brushing my breast through my bralette. "You're so pretty. We all noticed you the second you walked in."
Behind me, another hand slid up my skirt. Fingers found the waistband of my thong and hooked it, pulling the fabric tight between my legs. I gasped, my tray slipping from my fingers. It hit the floor with a clatter that was swallowed by the noise of the cafeteria.
"Don't worry about that," someone said, their mouth hot against my ear. I felt breath, then lips, then teeth grazing my earlobe. "We'll get you something to eat after. First—we missed you."
Missed me. They missed me. I'd only been here one day, and they already missed me.
My eyes stung. My heart felt so full it might burst.
"That's so nice," I managed, my voice wobbling. "I—I missed you too. I mean, I didn't know I missed you, but now I do, and—"
"Shh." The girl in front of me pressed a finger to my lips. Her other hand was still down my top, her palm cupping my breast now, her thumb rubbing back and forth across my nipple through the thin cotton of my bralette. "You don't have to explain. We know."
Another hand found my ass. Squeezed. Hard. I yelped, but it came out more like a moan, and someone laughed—a low, appreciative sound.
"She's so responsive," a boy's voice said from behind me. "Look at her. She loves this."
"She does," the girl agreed, her eyes on mine. "Don't you, Elena? You love when we're friendly with you."
I nodded, my lips parting under her finger. "Yes. I—I love it. I love how friendly everyone is here."
She smiled, and it was beautiful. Genuine. Her finger traced down from my lips to my chin, then lower, dragging across my throat, between my collarbones, coming to rest at the top button of my top.
"Then let us be friendlier."
She popped the button open. Then the next one. Then the next.
I heard my own breathing, loud in my ears. The fabric parted, and the cafeteria air hit my skin, cool against the heat of my chest. I was still wearing my bralette underneath, but it was thin—so thin—and my nipples were already hard, already pressing against the cotton like they were reaching out.
"Oh," the girl breathed. "Look at her."
Hands found me from everywhere. A palm on my stomach. Fingers tracing my ribs. A mouth pressing a kiss to my shoulder. Someone's hand slid under the hem of my skirt from the front this time, fingers brushing the inside of my thigh, moving higher.
"I was in the hallway earlier," I said, my voice thin, my body trembling. "Some students—they touched me too. It was really nice."
"We heard," the girl said. She tugged my bralette down, exposing my breasts to the open air. "Mina told us. She said you were so sweet about it. So grateful."
"I am grateful. I'm really, really grateful."
"We know." She leaned in and took my left nipple into her mouth.
I cried out—a sharp, surprised sound that turned into a moan as her tongue circled the sensitive tip. Her mouth was warm, wet, insistent. Sucking. Pulling. Drawing the breath out of my lungs. Behind me, someone else's mouth found my right shoulder, then my neck, then my ear.
"You taste so good," the girl murmured against my skin, her lips still brushing my nipple. "We're going to keep you."
Keep me. Like I belonged here. Like I was theirs.
"Please," I whispered. "Please keep me."
Someone laughed again—that same low, appreciative sound. "She's perfect."
The hand between my legs found what it was looking for. Fingers pressed against the damp fabric of my thong, finding the wetness that had been building since I walked through those doors, since the hallway, since the cafeteria line yesterday, since I first arrived at this school and discovered how friendly everyone was.
"She's soaked," the owner of the hand announced. "And I barely touched her."
"I told you," the girl said, pulling her mouth off my nipple with a wet pop. "She loves us."
"I do," I said, my voice breaking. "I love all of you."
The fingers pressed harder against my thong, rubbing through the fabric, finding the exact spot that made my hips buck forward. I grabbed at whoever was closest—the girl's shoulders, I think—and held on as my knees went weak.
"Easy," someone said. "We've got you."
Arms wrapped around my waist. Hands supported my back. I was held up by a dozen points of contact, surrounded on all sides, pressed into a crowd of warm bodies that wanted me, that needed me, that had missed me.
"How many of you touched her yesterday?" a voice asked—a boy's voice, casual, curious.
A show of hands, I guessed. I heard murmurs. "I did." "Me." "I grabbed her ass in the line." "I got her in the hallway." "She sat next to me in third period—I had my hand up her skirt the whole time."
Laughter. Friendly laughter.
"And she still came back for more," the girl said. She kissed my forehead. "You're so good, Elena. So trusting."
I smiled, dizzy with happiness. "You're all so nice to me."
"We are," she agreed. Her hand slid down my stomach, past my navel, into my skirt. She pushed my thong aside—no hesitation, no asking—and her fingers found my wetness directly. Slick. Hot. Ready. "We're the nicest people you'll ever meet."
She pushed a finger inside me.
I gasped, my back arching, my head falling back against someone's shoulder. The cafeteria ceiling was a blur of fluorescent lights and acoustic tiles. I could hear people talking around us, laughing, eating, living their normal lives while I stood here with my top hanging open and a girl's finger inside me and a dozen hands on my body.
"She's tight," the girl observed. She pushed deeper. "And so wet. Look at this."
Someone else's hand reached between my legs, touched the wetness the girl had spread, and brought their fingers to their mouth. "Sweet," they said. "Really sweet."
A second finger joined the first. I moaned, loud enough that I was sure people at nearby tables could hear. But no one looked up. No one stared. They just kept eating, kept talking, like this was normal. Like this was just what happened in the cafeteria at this school.
Maybe it was.
"You're going to come for us, aren't you?" the girl asked. Her fingers curled inside me, finding that spot—that perfect spot—and pressing. "You're going to come with all of us watching, and then we're going to get you some lunch, and you're going to sit with us, and you're going to be so happy."
"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, yes, yes—"
"Say it. Say you belong to us."
"I belong to you. I belong to all of you."
"Say the whole school."
"The whole—the whole school—" I was panting now, my hips moving against her hand, chasing the pressure. "I belong to the whole school. I'm yours. I'm everyone's."
"That's right." Her thumb pressed against my clit, and her fingers curled inside me, and everything went white.
I came hard, my body convulsing, my mouth open in a silent scream. The hands holding me tightened, keeping me upright as my legs gave out completely. I felt myself clenching around her fingers, felt the wetness flood out of me, felt her keep pressing, keep rubbing, until I was sobbing with it.
"Good girl," she said, and slowly, slowly, she pulled her fingers out. I felt the emptiness like a loss. "That's our good girl."
I hung in their arms, gasping, trembling, my body limp and spent. My top was still open. My skirt was bunched around my hips. My thong was soaked and twisted to the side. I was a mess, and I had never felt more wanted in my entire life.
"Now," the girl said, her voice bright, practical, "let's get you some food. You must be starving."
"She can sit with us," someone said from behind me. "I saved her a spot."
"No, she's sitting with us."
"She was with us first."
"We saw her first."
"Hey." The girl holding me—the one who'd had her fingers inside me—raised her voice. "She's sitting with me. No arguments."
A chorus of groans, but no one argued. She helped me stand up straight, buttoned my top with quick, efficient movements, smoothed down my skirt. Her fingers lingered on my hip, possessive.
"What's your name?" I asked her, my voice hoarse.
She smiled. "You can call me Val."
"Val." I tested the name on my tongue. "Thank you, Val. For being so friendly."
"Anytime, Elena." She took my hand and led me through the crowd. Bodies parted for her, hands reaching out to touch me as I passed—a stroke of my hair, a squeeze of my ass, a finger tracing my collarbone. I let them. I wanted them to. Every touch was a reminder that I was wanted here, that I belonged.
We reached a table near the center of the cafeteria. It was full of students—boys and girls, all of them watching me with hungry eyes. Val guided me to a seat at the center, and I sank into it, my legs still weak.
"Someone get her a tray," Val said, sliding in beside me. Her hand landed on my thigh under the table. "She's had a long morning."
"I can get it," I said, starting to rise.
Val's hand pressed down, keeping me in place. "You stay. Let us take care of you."
A boy got up, headed toward the food line. Other students leaned in, introducing themselves, telling me their names, asking me questions. How did I like the school so far? Was my dorm comfortable? Did I need anything?
I answered them all, my smile so wide my cheeks hurt. I told them the school was amazing. I told them everyone was so friendly. I told them I'd never felt so welcome anywhere in my life.
Under the table, Val's hand crept higher. Her fingers found the wet spot on my thong and pressed, just barely, just enough to make me gasp.
"Elena," she said, her voice low, just for me. "You're going to the party on Friday, right?"
"Yes," I breathed. "Mina invited me. She has my number."
"Good." Val's fingers traced the edge of my thong. "There are going to be a lot of people there. A lot of people who want to be friendly with you."
"That's good," I said. "I like friendly people."
Val smiled, and there was something in her eyes—something dark, something hungry—that I couldn't quite read. But I trusted her. She was being friendly. Everyone here was friendly.
The boy returned with a tray loaded with food. He set it in front of me with a flourish. "Eat up. You need your strength."
I looked at the tray, then at the faces around me—all of them watching, all of them smiling, all of them waiting.
"Thank you," I said, my voice cracking. "Thank you all so much."
I picked up my fork and took a bite. It was the best food I'd ever tasted.
This school. These people. This life.
It was everything I'd ever wanted.