Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
T oday is the day Arkin starts college, and special measures have been put in place to accommodate him, but I have no idea what any of it means, nor do I care.
We’re seated around the breakfast table.
Between staying out late and being attacked by the freak across the table, I’ve had an hour’s sleep, two tops, and I’m exhausted.
Whenever I’m reminded that he’ll hang around at my college, I want to punch something… Preferably something hard, like a brick wall.
I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid him since he got here, which is easy to do at college. But now he’ll be there too… every day, and then at home… in my bedroom.
No, I’m not fucking doing this. I need some space.
“What’s up with you?” Neriah whispers so our parents won’t overhear. She has a new shade of purple lipstick, which she wears proudly.“You look like shit.”
I couldn’t be bothered shaving before my shower. Just dragging my tired arse out of bed was a struggle. Before I could even open the bathroom door, it flew open and Arkin stepped out, freshly showered, with a towel perilously clinging to his hips.
My sister nudges me. “Earth to Zach.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, shoving the unsettling memory far down in the gutter, where I’ll hopefully forget about it.
Showering a man’s cum off my skin was not something I ever thought I’d do, even less so a second time. Nevertheless, tired as I was, my dick pointed to the ceiling, so I had to treat myself to a cold shower to get the fucker down.
I hate my dick.
Across the table, Arkin is typing on his phone. Dad tells him, “No phones at breakfast,” but he ignores him, which is a first.
When he sets it down, mine vibrates beside my cereal bowl and I distractedly pick it up, shoveling another spoonful of Weetabix into my mouth.
Surprised, I almost spit it back out.
Arkin: I took what I wanted, alright.
My eyes shoot up, but he’s listening to my mum talk to him about his new tutors and not looking at me.
“She took what she wanted, alright. After we hung up, she fucked me again ? —”
Those were the words I said to Arkin last night when I returned home.
I crush the phone in my hand as I narrow my eyes on him.
Last night, I felt riddled with guilt, but not anymore.
I type out a response.
Me: Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it.
He reads it and smirks.
Why the hell is he smirking for?
Arkin: Keep telling yourself that. We both know you came harder than you ever have.
I must be sort of shell-shocked because I stare at it for long moments.
A second message pops up before I can type out a response.
Arkin: Admit it. Your girlfriend has never made you come that hard.
Arkin: In fact, I think you’re hard right now.
My cock twitches in response, and I release a quivering breath. Yeah, right. I’d sooner streak naked down the street than admit that I’m rocking a hard-on at the breakfast table.
Me: You fucking wish. Now fuck off!
He just chuckles silently and puts his phone down. I’m inwardly seething as my cock strains against my zipper. It’s uncomfortable, and I need to readjust myself. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction, so I suffer through it while finishing my cereal. Still, I don’t stop glaring at him and he keeps smirking with that secretive smile of his, which makes me want to wipe it off his stupid face. Why does he get under my skin like this, and why am I this irrationally angry around him yet also turned on?
The drive to college is awkward and tense. I’m still seething and stealing glances at Arkin in the backseat. Neriah is oblivious. Shoes on the dash and a banana flavored lollipop in her mouth, which she twirls while reading Snuff by Terry Pratchett.
What bugs me the most about seeing Arkin in my car is how big he is. I thought the same thing last time, too, when he was in the front passenger seat. It pisses me off that I can’t look in the rearview without his fucking shoulders taking up most of the space.
He’s like a damn tank who could easily be mistaken for a rugby player. And for some infuriating reason, I can’t stop looking; I’m two seconds away from ripping off the rearview mirror.
He’s staring out of the passenger window, watching the world go by. And then, as if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his head and looks at me.
Neriah flips a page, the paper rustling softly in the silence as a dimple deepens on Arkin’s cheek.
Forcing my attention back on the road so we don’t crash, I grind my molars. We’re almost there, and then I can get away from him… Just five more minutes until I don’t have to be in a confining space with him again for the rest of the day, forced to suffer through these confusing emotions.
When we arrive, my friends are already waiting for me.
After parking in my usual spot and unfastening my seatbelt, I escape the car before my sister has time to even shove her book back into her bag.
While Harrison and I do our ridiculous handshake, I pretend I’m not hyper-aware of the doors shutting behind me.
As usual, Neriah walks off without a bye, and Harrison and Ryan say hi to Arkin more enthusiastically than I’d like.
I mean, I don’t care what my mum says. Ryan and Harrison are my friends, not Arkin’s. He’ll have to find his own.
I walk off toward the building, feeling out of sorts and kind of weird, like I have spiders crawling all over me or something. Harrison and Ryan are loud and rowdy—nothing new there—but I can’t focus on anything they say because I’m aware of Arkin tagging along like a fucking lost puppy. Who said he could walk with us? What does he think is going on here? That he belongs to our friendship group or something?
Fuck that.
As we enter through the large doors, I nudge my head to our left, where Janice, the receptionist, blows a big, pink bubble with her gum that explodes and covers her nose. She’s cool. Just turned twenty-one. The headteacher is her uncle, and that’s how she got this job.
“The receptionist will get you your paperwork. Now fuck off.”
Ryan’s eyes bug out while Harrison covers his chuckle with a cough.
Arkin stares at me unblinkingly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He glances at Janice and jiggles his knee.
He’s nervous. The realization makes something coil in my chest that I don’t want to name.
“What’s wrong, princess? Are you scared?” I taunt, low and sharp.
Ryan sniggers before shoving me lightly to tell me I’m out of line. But I keep my grin in place like I’m not thinking about the way Arkin readjusts his bag for the second time. Like I don’t see how the cocky mask he wears at home is slipping. Now, he looks small. And I hate that I notice.
Amy joins us while I’m smirking at him, snuggling up to me and kissing me on the jaw.
He flicks his gaze to her, my friends, then me… I can tell he senses the dynamic shift. I’m the popular striker here at St. Conwyer College. And I hold a lot of power.
I tip my chin toward reception. “What are you waiting for? Fuck off.”
“Zach!” Amy scolds, but the laughter in her voice is unmistakable. She slides her hand up my chest and bites her lip to hold her smile back.
I hug her closer with my arm around her shoulder and grin at Arkin. “You don’t belong with us.”
His throat jumps on a swallow, and then he steps back to adjust his backpack for a third time before he shuffles up to Janice and jiggles his knee again like he’s nervous.
“You’re mean,” Amy says, slapping my chest playfully, but I can’t return her smile because now my stomach is in knots, and I’m struck with the sudden urge to run up to him and apologize. What am I doing? I’m not this cruel guy.
“That was cold,” Harrison says with an uncertain chuckle as they walk away.
I peer over my shoulder. Janice hands Arkin his paperwork and pops her gum again, unbothered. Like this moment means nothing. Like this whole thing isn’t getting under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch. And fuck do I want to scratch—I want to scratch until my skin splits open.
My heart almost jumps to my fucking throat when he glances over his shoulder and looks right at me. For a second, we watch each other.
It only lasts for a moment or two, but my pulse stutters before I shove it down, reminding myself that I don’t care.
I shouldn’t care.
Still, I don’t look away. Neither does he. Whatever this thing is between us. Whatever this thing is that tightens my chest when he’s around needs to stop.
Fuck it.
I should walk away. I have to walk away. But I’m locked in place until he turns back and nods at something Janice says.
Amy leads me away, talking my ear off as we round the corner, but I barely hear her because she sounds underwater.
Distant.
Muted.
And I’m drowning.