Her words scare me, but I don’t understand what exactly she’s referring to. And every time I try and ask, she changes the subject.
So I remain quiet, and secretly pray that my only friend at this godforsaken school doesn’t die before the end of the year. I don’t even know if she and Spence had sex yet. She’s never mentioned it.
Whit also still hasn’t returned my journal.
Our deal is finished. He’s not interested in me anymore, that is abundantly clear, yet he won’t return it. Of course I don’t ask for it either. He just goes about his business, spending time with his new plaything, or with his friends, and we don’t speak. No more sneaky, heated glances in the halls or in class either. We’re over that.
I’m over him.
That’s what I try and tell myself.
It’s in American Government where I suffer the most. He sometimes sits directly in front of me, switching up his seat, as if he’s taunting me, reminding me that he’s still there. Larger than life and out to haunt me. I remain at the same desk every single day, arriving to class early, hoping he’ll avoid me. His gaze will meet mine for the briefest second, just before he drops a kiss on Caitlyn’s upturned cheek and they go their separate ways. She sits on the opposite side of the room, directly in front, like a good little student.
While Whit comes to the back of the room on the left side, always sitting directly in front of me.
So close I can smell him. Can stare at the soft hair that lies against his nape. I know the silky feel of his hair around my fingers. I know the groans he makes when he comes. The taste of his mouth when he kisses me. The taste of his cock when he slides it between my lips.
Sometimes I wonder. Maybe I just imagined it. Maybe what happened between us was a dream. Or a nightmare. After he left me by the trees in the middle of the forest, I staggered back to my dorm room, a broken, crying mess. No one came looking for me. Not even Sylvie. She was too wrapped up in her own bullshit with Spencer, so I can’t be angry at her.
Besides, being angry at Sylvie means I have no other friends, and I can’t risk losing her.
I just…
I can’t.
The missing journal burns a hole in my brain and I want it back. Every time I open my desk drawer and see it gone, I become infuriated. I wonder how much of it he’s actually read? If he really does know all of my secrets?
Or did he tease me the entire time and never cracked it open once? That makes more sense. He doesn’t care about me. Why would he care about anything about my past?
He doesn’t. He’s an unfeeling, giant dickhead who deserves a miserable life with a woman who’s been chosen for him versus one he could actually fall in love with on his own. I hope he fucking hates her. I hope she can never give him children. I hope someday he thinks of me, and is filled with burning, mad regret.
I hope.
I hope.
I hope.
After speaking with Miss Thompson and letting her know I’m not going anywhere next week, I go to the library and pretend I’m doing homework. I’m really reading a book on my Kindle app, something dark and disturbing yet totally romantic. I can relate to it. The woman is strong. Defiant. The man is a total alpha, billionaire businessman who barks orders at people instead of speaking to them like a rational human.
With the exception of the woman. He treats her like a queen. Like a fragile, precious thing that only he can protect. And while she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she lets him treat her that way. She enjoys it. He makes her feel special. Cared for.
Loved.
I think of Whit. When he said I was fucking stunning. When he made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. How I can’t hide my beauty, no matter how hard I try. I didn’t focus on those words so much then, but I do now, replaying them over and over again in my mind. Did he really mean them? Or was he just trying to charm me into giving in to his every need?
“There you are.”
I glance up to find Sylvie standing by the table, a wan smile curling her pale lips. I tuck my phone away, not wanting to get caught reading a dark romance when I should be doing school work, even if it’s just my friend who’s catching me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice ringing with concern, just with that one word. I see annoyance flicker in her gaze. She hates when people ask her about her condition. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She jerks the chair away from the table and settles in, dropping her backpack onto the table with a loud clatter.
I hear the unmistakable shush from Miss Taylor, and Sylvie rolls her eyes.
“Another doctor’s appointment. I told Mother to bring me back here. I wanted to go to class,” she continues.
“We only have one more day,” I remind her gently. “Nothing’s really happening around here anyway. You could’ve skipped it.”
“I needed to get away from her.” Sylvie glances at her phone, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips as she types a reply to someone and sends it. She plops her phone on the table next to her backpack. “I’m so tired of her. Spending time with my mother is exhausting.”
I know the feeling.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, her voice gentle. “I know we haven’t had much of a chance to talk lately, but I know you went through…a rough time Halloween night, and I’m so sorry that happened.”
I want to ask her what exactly she knows, but then again, I don’t want to know what’s been said about me.
Instead, I smile tightly and nod once. “Thanks.”
“You’re okay?” She glances over her shoulder before scooting her chair closer to mine. “Whit took care of the problem.”
“You mean Bryan?” I ask, my brow arched. “I figured.”
“He doesn’t do that for just anyone, you know. He saves those drastic measures for people who terrorize me usually.” She pauses for only a moment. “Now he’s done that for you twice.”
“I don’t know why,” I say airily, trying to act like none of it matters. “He’s with Caitlyn now. I suppose he’ll protect her instead.”
Sylvie dissolves into giggles, shaking her head. “He could give a shit about Caitlyn. I think he likes having her around because she gives him all of those ego strokes he enjoys.”
“Don’t be naïve, Sylvie. Caitlyn is stroking more than his ego,” I snap like a jealous shrew.
Her giggling come to a full stop as she contemplates me. “She wishes she was stroking other parts of him. He always keeps her at an arm’s distance. I asked him why recently. He said he can’t have sex with her. She’d be too clingy.”
I say nothing, desperately wanting to believe Sylvie, and telling myself I don’t care what Whit does anymore.
He’s none of my business.
Her face lights up as she studies me. “Oh my God, I just had the best idea. You should come home with me for Thanksgiving!”
I watch her in stunned silence, her invitation rolling over and over again in my mind. She’s not paying attention to me, having pulled out a piece of plain white paper and resting her hand on top of it. With a pencil, she begins to trace her hand slowly. I recognize what she’s doing and can’t help but smile.