Summer
Four days. He’s ignored me for four days, and it’s beyond infuriating. Not that I want him to contact me.
I’m a liar. Of course I want him to contact me. He left me a needy, trembling mess Saturday night, slumped against the fence. Despite the threats. Despite the aggressive way he touched me. Talked to me. He’s a horrible human, but for some reason, it feels like he’s my horrible human. I don’t know why he’d make so many demands, only to leave me completely alone.
The kiss is what destroyed me. His lips are a weapon, and when they touch mine, I become lost. Weak. I think about his kiss. His fingers on my throat. His hard body pressed against mine. My entire body aches just thinking about him.
Monday morning I show up to Honors English an amped up mess, worrying over his reaction.
He doesn’t show up.
I pass him in the hall between classes. Spot him in the dining hall. He doesn’t even look in my direction. His gaze flits over me as if I’m not even there. It’s like this the rest of the day. Every day this week so far. Eventually, I do the same to him. Going about my business. Walking through the halls, into classrooms, around campus with my head held high.
Fuck him and his deal. He’s trying to teach me some sort of lesson, and I don’t get it. He demanded I be willing to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and then he doesn’t even bother with me.
It’s confusing. He’s confusing.
I saw Sylvie on Monday. She spent lunch and the study period with me in the library. Whispering and gossiping. I wanted to ask her about Whit, but I kept my mouth shut. And after Monday, I don’t see Sylvie again. I can only assume she’s sick once again, and now she’s a ghost on this campus. One minute she’s there. The next, gone.
I miss her. She’s my only friend.
Instead of worrying about Whit Lancaster and his endless bullshit, I concentrate on school. I have a paper to write. A few projects to finish. Surprisingly, no one at school is treating me terrible anymore. It’s a relief, yet one I don’t understand. Did Whit call off his dogs? Is that all it takes? One snap of his fingers and they leave me alone?
He wields so much power on this campus, it’s mind-blowing.
Terrifying.
I’m working on my paper on my laptop when a text message comes through from an unidentified number. Frowning, I open it.
Come to my room. 9 p.m. WAL
Excitement sparks in my stomach. Between my legs. I’ve been summoned.
Finally.
I don’t respond to his text. What’s the point? He probably wouldn’t answer me anyway. He expects me to show up, and I will. I will do whatever it takes to get that journal back. There’s too much incriminating evidence in there. Things I don’t want anyone to know. If he were to find out and leak that information? I’d be done for.
Ruined.
I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants, too.
Curfew is at ten on a weeknight, so I have no issues walking out of my room or exiting the dorm in general. What will be hard is getting back into the building. The security isn’t the best, considering how old the buildings are, and they don’t want to destroy the structure, the old-world feel, blah blah blah, but still. There are cameras, but Sylvie & I are not close enough friends to ask her to work her hacking magic for me.
Besides, if I make the request, then she’ll start asking questions. And I don’t want to answer them.
So I’m taking my chances, and praying I won’t get caught.
I’m dressed like I’m going for a jog, much like what I wore the night I found him in the rain. Leggings and Nikes and a hoodie. The only difference is I’m not wearing a bra. No panties. I considered wearing something sexy underneath my clothes, but I don’t have much in that department. Besides, I’m sure he just wants easy access.
I enter the building where his suite is. It used to be the old staffing quarters, but no one lives on campus who works here anymore, besides advisors and security. And they’re housed in another building.
The only ones who live in this building now are Whit and Sylvie, and half the time, she’s not around. The rest of the rooms are used for storage, or stand empty. Unused.
Wasted.
I walk down the darkened hall, unsure which room is his. I keep my footsteps light, not wanting to draw attention to myself in case Sylvie is in her room. She is the last person I want to run into right now.
A door suddenly swings open, allowing light into the hallway and I come to a complete stop, waiting to see if he might appear.
But no one appears. No one speaks either. Yet the door remains open.
I start to move again, slowly. Cautiously. I press my lips together so no one can hear me breathe, drawing closer and closer to that beam of golden light that’s cast upon the floor. I take one step into the light and then he’s there, filling the doorway.
Glaring at me.
“You’re late.” His voice is flat. His gaze heated.
I pat my hoodie’s front pocket, but it’s empty. Like an idiot, I didn’t bring my phone. I have no idea what time it is.
“By what? A minute?” I challenge, feeling feisty.
His lips draw into a line. “By three minutes, if we’re being precise.”
I roll my eyes, my attitude a mask for my nervousness. “Are you disappointed? Want me to leave?”
I start to walk away and he steps out of the room, his hand settling on my shoulder. His touch burns, locking me in place and I glance up at him to find he’s already watching me. “You’re not going anywhere. We have a deal, remember?”
He wraps his fingers around my upper arm and escorts me inside, shutting the door behind us and turning the lock. I glance around the room, releasing a slow, shuddery breath, drinking it all in.
My single room is larger than the rooms where the girls have to share, but this is massive. There’s a king-size bed in the center of the room. Two bedside tables, two dressers. A full-length mirror propped against the wall, opposite the bed. A desk with a giant iMac computer. There’s a sitting area with a flat screen TV and a couch. A bookshelf filled to the brim with actual books. I can see the connecting bathroom, a closet. He has everything he needs here.
“Does it meet your approval?” he asks, his voice snide.
I turn to face him. “It’s really nice,” I say truthfully.
“It’ll do.”
I watch him walk to the bed. He’s clad in light gray Lancaster Prep sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clings to his shoulders and chest, showcasing every muscle he has. He settles on the edge of the mattress facing me, his legs spread wide, his hands braced behind him as he contemplates me, a bored expression on his gorgeous face.
“Strip,” he demands.
I raise a brow. “Getting right to business?”
“No backtalk. You agreed to do whatever I asked of you, whenever.” He pauses. “Now strip.”
My gaze never leaving his, I toe off my shoes, letting my socks slip off with them. “Maybe I wanted you to undress me.”
“You don’t get to choose in this scenario,” he says, his blank gaze unnerving me. “Quit stalling.”
His snappy tone stiffens my spine with anger and I whip the sweatshirt off without hesitation, tossing it onto the floor. His gaze settles on my chest, lingering there for a moment before it returns to mine.