“Connor.” Ella’s voice is soft when she talks to him.
He doesn’t look away from me. Doesn’t back up. I drop the knife, ready to fucking hit him in the face, but Ella grabs his wrist and jerks him away from me.
“No,” she says to him, holding his hand. She shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
He glances at me, but she pulls on his hand again. If she doesn’t let go of him, it is definitely not going to be fucking okay.
“It’s okay, Con.” She nods toward me. “He’s a friend.”
Connor’s green eyes widen as he twists around to look at me like I’m the monster here.
“I’m going to talk to him, alright?”
Connor looks back at Ella, and they’re still fucking holding hands.
“I’ll see you next week,” Ella promises. And then her gaze shifts to me, and she stands on her tiptoes and kisses this motherfucker on the cheek.
“Ella.”
She smirks at me over his shoulder. “Coming, Mavy.”
He doesn’t speak on the drive home.
Doesn’t say a word as he carries me upstairs to his room.
I don’t try to explain myself. I have nothing to explain. He won’t tell me why the pretty girl was in his basement, and she didn’t say a damn word to me as she ran up the stairs and out of the house.
I don’t know where she went.
I don’t how long she was there. She was well taken care of, it seemed. A bed. A desk. A bathroom. It was like an apartment down there, and part of me thought she was renting it from him.
Part of me still wants to think that, because nothing else makes sense. But his reaction to her being gone?
I don’t think about it.
And when he cuffs me to his bed, both wrists to the poles of the headboard, I think we’re going to play a game. I think I wished he’d let me shower first, but I guess he’s not feeling so merciful.
His body is on top of mine, knees on the mattress as he straddles me and pulls back, slipping the key into the back pocket of his black, ripped jeans. “You can scream if you want,” he tells me with a wicked smirk on his face, “but no one is going to save you, Ella.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering.
He leans down close to me, his hands framing my body on the mattress. He runs his lips over my mouth, tasting me, but not kissing me.
“You’re not going to leave here until I tell you that you can leave, Ella.” He tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth and I close my eyes. He laughs against my face. “Because tonight, I want to remind you who you belong to.” There’s a promise in his words that makes me feel sick, but I don’t say a word.
I just wait for his punishment.
But instead of doing anything at all to me, he gets off and walks out, closing the door behind him.
I yank against the chains. “Maverick!” I yell after him. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yank harder, the rattling growing louder, and I know he hears me.
He hears me, and he does nothing.
I need to get out of here. The last time I was in cuffs…
The last time I was chained up, left alone, my mother didn’t come back for hours. Nearly a full day.
My heart lodges itself in my throat.
When he was in here, it was okay. But he’s gone, and I don’t know how long he’s going to make me wait.
Panic sets in. I need to explain to him. I need to tell him why he can’t do this. I need to end this war. I don’t care that he won’t tell me what I want: about his brother, the girl in the basement, his job, his friends. I’ll tell him everything.
I’ll give him anything.
As long as he comes back here.
I kissed Connor to get Maverick out of my head. Because I knew he’d leave me soon enough. I knew this movie version of my life would end too soon, and I needed somewhere to fall.
But now I just want him back.
Stupid, stupid girl.
“MAVERICK!” I scream as loud as I can, over and over again, but he doesn’t come back.
I close my eyes.
Let go.
I’m not here. This is not my life. This is a movie. A rom com. He’ll come back in with flowers and champagne and for fuck’s sake, since this is a movie, maybe he’ll even have a fucking ring. I’ll throw it out the window, of course, because I’m not marrying his crazy ass, but it’ll end in rough sex and cuddling.
He’ll forgive me for kissing Connor. Tell me all of his secrets. I’ll tell him mine. We’ll…be something real.
I scream again.
I scream until my voice is hoarse, but I keep my eyes closed.
And I don’t open them. Not for a long, long time.
Hours pass, according to the clock on the nightstand. The sun has sunk down beneath the sky, and it’s completely dark outside the wall of windows across from the bed. Then I hear music downstairs, muffled, but I can tell what it is: casual sabotage, and for some reason, it makes me laugh out loud.
And then I feel tears welling up behind my eyes.
I hate him.
I try to turn a little on my side. Try to find a position that I might sleep in, but I already know it’s going to be impossible. I can’t move like this.
But I see something out of the corner of my eye on the nightstand, in the dim glow of the alarm clock. It’s a blade.
There’s no way I can reach it. I can’t even turn over. I’m sure it wasn’t there any other morning, or I might have tried to use it before now and saved myself all of this trouble.
But would you? a voice in my head asks.
I don’t answer it.
I just close my eyes again, hearing movement downstairs, the music growing louder. I want to disappear. I don’t want to think about what he’s doing right now. Who else might be here. I don’t know why I want to kick him in the dick when I think of his mouth on someone else’s.
Is that what he’s doing? Is he trying to pay me back?
No. He wouldn’t. This is a game.
I kick against the bed, and it doesn’t make me feel better. I do it again and again, nearly lifting myself off the mattress, the chains clanking against the bedframe. No one will be able to hear me, and I could scream again, but I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.
I just want to fucking disappear into this bed.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear it. The door creaking open. I jump, startled, my chains rattling.
My mouth feels dry, and I know, impossibly, I fell asleep. I blink, trying to let my bleary eyes adjust. My arms hurt so bad, being held back like this for what feels like hours. It’s still dark outside, and just as I turn to glance at the alarm clock, I hear another noise.
A giggle. A girl’s giggle.
I freeze, my eyes shooting to the double doors of his bedroom. They creak open the rest of the way, and I hear someone, him, say, “Shh, Chelsea,” and the girl—Chelsea— laughs again.
My ribs suddenly feel tight, my skin stretched uncomfortably against them. My face flushes as I see him. I see him, his hands wrapped around a girl’s bare ass. I watch him in the dark as he kicks the door closed, slides the lock shut with one hand, adjusts his grip on her ass.
She’s wearing a thong. I can only see the waistband of it, around her skinny hips. I see her spine, too, her long brown hair down her back.