Marek makes me believe it’s possible to explore the uncharted parts of my soul. Repercussions don’t exist in Marek’s world, only freedoms.
I pull myself up on all fours, giving Marek’s arm a break. Staring at him over my shoulder, I let go and drop the wall and be the girl I want to be under his watch. He smiles because he knows what I’ve just done. Willingly handing myself over to Marek means something. He could rip the heart from my chest, and despite knowing that, I spread my legs wider.
“They have you all wrong, don’t they, doll?” His thumb runs over my seam, using my arousal to run soft circles on my clit. “You aren’t porcelain. You aren’t innocent.”
A zipper lowering echoes through the empty hallway, foil rips, and with one push, I’m full. The display case is the perfect height for Marek’s position. I shift my hips back in rhythm with him. He groans, and his face contorts with pure satisfaction. My walls clench, leading him to a finish. This isn’t about me, and we both know the truth in that.
Marek may have dragged me into this hallway to prove a point, but my lack of resistance isn’t pointless.
With a grunt, Marek’s movements slow. He’s finished. There’s a tightness at my hips and the deafening sound of ripping fabric. He pulls out of me, using my panties to clean me. My skirt is smoothed down as if it has never been up.
I sit up on the glass, cross my legs, and spin to face a sated Marek. A condom is thrown into the trash can, and my panties disappear into his pocket.
“A souvenir.” He bites his lip.
“Like you need one.” I hop down from the case and stand chest-to-chest with the boy who has a little devilish gleam in his eyes. “Are you like a sex addict or something?”
His lips drop to my cheek and graze over the bone. “Just because you enjoy something on a physical and psychological level doesn’t make you an addict.”
“That is, in fact, the definition of an addiction, Marek.” I hold back a laugh.
Our easy banter is a surprise. We’re all intense and broody one minute, and the next feels like we are friends.
He leans forward again, kissing my neck. “Well, then consider me a junkie.”
“There’s a certain kind of power in sex, Marek, and now I know where your weak spot is.” I consciously regulate my breaths to hide the effect he has on me.
“Think what you want, Palmer. When it comes to sex, you may think I’m weak, but you’re the lamb, and I’m the lion.” He twirls a loose tendril of hair around his finger, then steps away from me. “Let’s not forget that.”
I grab his arm, stopping him from leaving. “I’m no lamb.”
“Let’s hope not, but in case you are, you’d be smart to remember this bit of advice.” He skirts right by me, never giving me the kiss I’m desperate for. “Don’t ever let your lips get that close to Breaker’s again, do you hear me?” he calls out, slipping back into the classroom.
Touché, Marek Hawthorne. Touché.
I am stupid for believing I had the upper hand in this hallway, bare and exposed, using the one thing I’d thought could blind him. But damn, if I’m not wrong. Even when I’d spread my legs for him, he was the one controlling my movements.
A dark shadow hits the corner of my peripheral, and I turn to find the hallway empty. Startled, I quicken my steps to catch up to Marek. After what happened to Delaney at the club, I’ve been a little on edge. Now, seeing Julia has me back in that place I was a year ago but more aware than ever that things aren’t what they seem to be here on campus.
Reed always told me if my instinct screams something is wrong, then it is. Fight or flight is engrained into who we are. Her dorm room was an indication of the level of fight she possessed. If I was like her in that aspect, I’d follow the shadow that seems to be lingering around every corner. I guess I’m more of a flight kind of girl.
“Palmer!” Byron’s voice breaks through the deep fog in my brain.
“What?” I snap my head up to find the entire class watching me.
“You going to take your seat, or just stand in the middle of the classroom for the rest of the hour?” His remark earns him a few snickers, but his face grows serious. As I pass, he stops me. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” I pull my arm away from him.
“You look like a lamb before slaughter, Palmer.” He leans forward, nearly putting his lips to my ear. “This day . . . I understand, is all.”
With strong, determined posture, I roll my shoulders back and take my seat nestled between Breaker and Marek. Class continues like nothing has happened. Marek and Breaker’s papers are full of notes, while mine lays empty. My stare stays glued to Byron. He comes across as educated and eager to teach this class, but there’s something hidden inside of him, deep in his eyes, no one would dare to notice. When we aren’t willing to look deeper than the shallow brown pools, the truth stays hidden.
Byron turns from the chalkboard, locking his gaze on me. I fidget, knowing he’s addressing the class without dropping his attention from me. I break my eyes from Byron for a second and see the flat line of Marek’s lips. His spine is straight and almost as tight as the lines on his forehead. He worries his bottom lip, watching Byron taking me in, sinking further into his seat when he’s caught.
“Neglect kills injuries, revenge increases them,” Byron says to the class. “Does anyone know who said this?”
Everyone is silent, looking around for someone to chime in.
“Benjamin Franklin,” I call out.
“And do you know what he meant by those words, Miss Weston?” Byron stalks towards our row of desks.
“I assume he meant that if you don’t address those who have wronged you, then nothing will be proven to your enemies. If you’re willing to seek revenge, then it’s only a matter of time until blood will be shed.”
“You’re a smart girl.” Byron turns away but sneaks a look over his shoulder. His eyes cut to each of us. “Now, the question I have for all of you is, do we believe his words?”
Breaker’s gaze is cutting through me, straight to Marek, while Dixon’s is homed in on his brother. Marek’s, well, his is where it always seems to be these days. On me.
The bell rings, prompting everyone to gather their things and head to their next class. Byron takes his rightful place at the desk at the front. Dixon jumps over the row of desks to whisper something in his ear. Byron’s back tightens.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Breaker asks, tossing a strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“Why are you looking at me? I don’t have any plans. It’s Monday, which typically means Delaney and I will be in front of one of our televisions watching shitty reality shows.”
“You have plans now,” Marek announces, dropping a not-so-subtle kiss on my cheek. “We’ll be there to pick you up at eight. We could all use the distraction.”
“Curfew on the weekdays is nine. What could we possibly do for an hour?” I question.
“One, we don’t have a curfew.” Breaker laughs, convincingly. “Two, bring Delaney along. Something tells me she misses me.” He winks and walks away backwards, keeping a cute smile on his face until he disappears from the room.