Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I couldn't deny it anymore. I had feelings for Adrian Blackwood. The very idea of him leaving, of me never experiencing another moment together with him, made my heart hurt. But it was a different feeling than it had been with Ethan. When I worried about losing Ethan – which I often had especially during the last year we were together – it was with a desperate, frantic terror. It was with the fear of fulfilling all the ways in which he complained about me, the ultimate failure. With Adrian, I feared the loss of his conversation. The loss of the intense, fiery way he looked at me. The loss of his commands, his firm and reassuring tone. The loss of the most exquisite pleasure I had ever experienced. The loss of never knowing if he was happy or satisfied.
I absolutely did not want to allow myself to think, even for one second, that I was falling in love with him. But that thought was indeed there, buried at the back of my mind, prodding me more and more frequently.
"Be a good girl for me," he had said before he left, giving me one last deep kiss to remember him by. I was tingly and dazed and endorphin high even when I returned to campus for work that evening. Customers passed by in a daze. I could not remember the last day that had gone by without worry, or anxiety. The last day I had looked at my hazy reflection in windows and been so satisfied with what I saw.
Now, the only worry that lingered was this: could I bring myself to tell him I wanted more? That I couldn't linger in this casual no-man's land? Did I dare? And what would happen then? I would soon have to send in my application for the Students Abroad program, and he had promised to write my recommendation letter. What would happen when I left to Europe for a semester, possibly for a year? Did I really want to put myself in a position of having to worry if someone was waiting for me?
"Oh you've got it bad , girl," Maya said, shaking her head at me. I had invited her over to split the Ben & Jerry's after work, and I had yet to even say a word about Adrian.
"What do you mean?" I said, feigning as much innocence as I could. It was a pathetic attempt. She gave me slow look, her eyes fluttering as she dramatically rolled them.
"Come ooonnn, Cass," she said. "You're crushing hard on this "casual" guy of yours. I can see it on your face. You're all distant and dreamy." She fluttered her hands. " And I can smell a man all over this couch. Which means he was here for a while ."
What kind of super-human was she? Some kind of romance sniffer dog? I gave it up, and sighed the most dramatic, overblown sigh ever sighed.
"I don't know how this happened Maya," I said. "It really was supposed to just be casual. Like a rebound from Ethan. But he's just so . . . so . . . he brought this ice cream."
She stared wide-eyed, a spoonful clamped in her mouth. "Oh honey," she said, around a mouthful of Chunky Monkey. "You've got him in the palm of your hand."
Did I? That didn't quite seem to coincide with the orders, punishments, and disciplines, and yet it somehow meshed together into a perfect system of care and trust. Maybe I was being the same na?ve girl I had been for the past two years, but I genuinely couldn't imagine Adrian going out of his way to be nice just for the sake of getting what he wanted. He just . . . he wasn't like that.
He was sadistic, merciless, and absolutely perverted, but . . . he wasn't an asshole.
"Tell him how you feel," Maya said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world. "And tell him soon , before everything gets too confusing, before he starts thinking about having other options."
The conundrum bothered me the entire weekend. Every easy, flirtatious text exchange with Adrian over the next several days had me itching to send a long message declaring how I felt. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept hovering uneasily between telling myself I was right to hold back, and screaming at myself for being tragically wrong, and risking losing the opportunity altogether. As Maya had said, I knew Adrian had to have other options. Just seeing the way the students looked at him told me that much.
But maybe it was meant to stay that way.
I was still stressing over my options on Friday. Adrian had been at work nearly the whole day, so I'd had plenty of time to worry without any of his usual distracting texts throughout the day. I had settled in to dinner when I heard a knock at my door. Maya never knocked, but it was late enough that Adrian could have been off work. Hoping for a surprise visit, I abandoned my dinner on the table to open the door with an anticipatory smile.
But it wasn't Adrian at all. It was Ethan.
I almost slammed the door. I should have. But forced politeness and shock took over. I stared at him, disbelieving at first and then, slowly . . . frightened. What did he want?
"Hi," he said, his voice almost mockingly cheerful. "Hope this isn't a bad time." He kept peering past me, into the apartment, as if looking for something.
"Well I was about to have dinner," I said, hating how quiet and uncertain my voice became. "So yeah. It's kind of a bad time."
"Can I come in for a little bit?" he said, although it didn't really sound like a question. I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.
I shook my head. "No. You can't. I really don't want to see you." I was about to close the door, but his foot very firmly stopped it. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself. What the hell was he doing?
"Cass, I'm worried about you," he said, and I almost could have believed he was actually concerned from the wide-eyed look on his face. Almost, if I hadn't known that Ethan Carter genuinely did not feel empathy towards other humans.
"Move your fucking foot," I hissed. "I said I don't want to see you."
His hand now joined his foot, pressing against the door with an unmoveable show of strength. What was I supposed to do? Scream? Call for help? My voice felt choked up within me with my own uncertainty.
"Come on, Casszi," he said, shoving the door so that I had to step back. He let himself in, still looking around skeptically. "Don't be afraid to ask for help."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I began to think that this was the point at which I needed to call the police. But my phone was on the couch and Ethan had me cornered against the wall next to the door. I desperately hoped someone would walk by, anyone , and see what was happening.
But no one was coming. We were alone. I was alone.
Ethan's face was a mockery of concern, a carefully constructed mask over anger that I had learned to tiptoe around for years. Charles, suddenly seeing his opportunity as he wandered by, made a break for the door. I tried to stop him, but Ethan shoved me back and Charlie slipped out the door, running down the hall.
"Charles!" I called after him desperately, and Ethan slammed the door shut.
"Would you forget about that fucking cat for one minute?" He snapped. "I saw you with our professor , Cass. Mr. Blackwood? Yeah, I saw him . . ." He paused, as if searching for the words that would dig the deepest. "I saw him molesting you in the parking lot."
Molesting me? I would have laughed if I hadn't been so frightened. The very idea was so absolutely ridiculous, so ludicrously wrong, I couldn't imagine why he had chosen to phrase it that way. But as he towered over me, the cruel spark in his eye told me he knew he was wrong. That was the point.
"Do you think school officials won't take a rape report seriously?" he said, his voice low. He tried to touch my face and I slapped his hand away, making his anger flare. "Your perverted little professor will lose his job immediately Cass. As he should. He's a danger, taking advantage of female students-"
"You're full of shit!" I yelled, trying to shove him away. Instead he grabbed my arms painfully, pinning me back against the wall. Again I wanted to scream, but the sounds were stifled within me, intimidated into silence.
"Don't worry, Cass," he hissed, his breath hot on my face. I couldn't look at him. I was staring at the floor, waiting, hoping desperately he would leave. Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone please. "I'll make sure that perverted asshole gets what's coming to him."
"Leave him the fuck alone," I pleaded, anger and fear making me sick. I couldn't be weak. Don't be weak Cass ! But he was stronger. I couldn't move. I couldn't fight him. I couldn't do anything .
"Why should I?" he laughed. "Remember, I still care about you, Cass. I don't want to see you get your reputation ruined."
He was relishing how scared I was. The power he had over me. "Why do you care what I do?" I said, trying not to let angry tears run down my cheeks. "Why does it fucking matter to you? You chose to leave me, Ethan. So why can't you just leave me alone? You don't care about me, don't pretend like you do! Just leave me and Adrian alone!"
"You and Adrian?" he mocked. This time he forced his hand on my face, stroking along my cheek in a rough, possessive way. "I just don't want you jumping into something before you're ready. I know the breakup was hard on you. I know, if you had the choice, you'd still want me back."
I tried to turn my face away, tried to shrink from his touch as much as I could. "You're crazy," I said, staring at the far wall, refusing to meet his eyes. "You're fucking crazy, Ethan."
He jerked my face towards him, his fingers pinching hard into my cheeks. I strained against it, but it was pointless. I stared up into his eyes, vibrantly blue and horrifically cruel.
"You can't just forget about me, Cass," he snarled. I knew what was coming, and I knew I couldn't avoid it. Even anticipating it, it didn't make it an easier when his mouth crushed down on mine. The taste of his saliva was bitterly familiar. I immediately wanted to vomit. The second he let me go, I shoved him hard in the chest and stumbled away. My face was hot with tears.
"Get the fuck out," I said, jabbing my finger at the door. "Get the fuck out before I call the cops."
He left, slamming the door behind him. I rushed to it immediately, throwing the deadbolt and crumpling up into a heap on the floor, my face buried in my hands. There was an overwhelming tightness in my chest that didn't allow me to breath, let alone manage to cry beyond the silent tears streaming down my face.
I had to call someone. I had to get up. I had to find Charles. But I couldn't bring myself to open the door. I was scared to go out, scared he would still be there. Was I supposed to call the police? I stumbled over to my phone, blurry through my tear-filled eyes, and saw a text from Adrian.
Sorry I got off so late. How's your day?
I broke down in deep, hard sobs, somehow managing to press the call button. It rang twice, and then Adrian's voice came over the line.
"Hey beautiful," he said. "I've been thinking about you all day. I thought of this really-"
"Adrian," my voice cracked as I spoke. I sniffled. "Adrian, can you . . . can you please come over?"
I could sense his urgency immediately. "Of course. What's wrong?"
"I . . ." I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Why had I opened the door? Why hadn't I called for help? "I lost Charles. He got out. Please. I just . . . I need help."
"Give me ten minutes, Cass," he said. I could hear him moving things around, and the jangle of keys. "I'll be right there."
I was huddled on the couch when I heard the knock at my door. My heart immediately started pounding. Opening my phone, I called Adrian and was relieved to hear the ring on the other side of the door.
"I'm here," he said as he picked up. Sighing in relief, I unlocked the door to see him standing there, Charles already in his arms. "He was wandering by the elevators. Came right up to me."
I barely managed to gather Charlie in my arms before I started crying again. I buried my face in his thick white fur and sobbed, my shoulders shaking. I felt Adrian put his arms around me, gently leading me back into the house and shutting the door.
"Hey, hey, Cass, my god, it's okay," he said. Charles wiggled free and ran immediately to his food bowl, no worse the wear for his little adventure. My hands were shaking, the tightness in my chest making it impossible to breath. Adrian sat me back on the couch, pulled my head up and held it in his hands as I trembled and wheezed, trying to convince my body to allow me the slightest breath of air.
"Start breathing, Cass," he said gently. His fingers stroked back through my hair and massaged over my neck. With firm, careful control he pushed me back, so that I was lying against the armrest of the couch. He took my wrists in his hands and pulled them down gently to my sides. With one hand pressed against my forehead, he instructed me, "Move your legs up and open them so your hips relax. There you go. Feet together. Pull them up to release the hip muscles. Now breath please. Breath."
I did as he said. The position felt ridiculous at first, until the tension and panic began to dissipate. My lungs at last allowed me to draw a deep, trembling breath. I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth of his hand on me. The hand that was not pressed against my forehead was rubbing my arms, smooth comforting movements that coincided with my breathing.
"What did you do?" I said, still not wanting to open my eyes.
"Recline Bound Angle," he said. "It's a position in yoga. It can help ease panic and anxiety."
"It does," I muttered. "It helps." I opened my eyes, gazing at him thankfully, so quickly feeling safe again. I sat myself up, and moved over so that I could press myself against his shoulder. He responded by putting his arms around me, kissing my forehead.
"Were you that scared for Charles?" he said. "Or did something else happen?" By his tone, I knew he could already tell that it was the latter. I gave a trembling sigh, and just shook my head. I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to tell him.
"Cass," his hand stroked beneath my chin, tipping my head back to look up at him. The concern in his eyes made me want to bury myself against him even more. "What happened? Talk to me?"
"Ethan came over," I squeezed out the words, then immediately pressed myself down on his lap, burying my face there so I didn't have to look at him. I felt him tense immediately, and I felt sick. "He wouldn't leave. I told him to leave, Adrian."
"Did he hurt you?" His voice was harsh, barely controlled. I had never heard him take that tone.
"He said he would tell the school board that he had seen you molest me," I choked. "He said he would get you fired. I really did try to just make him leave-"
"I believe you, baby, but please: did he hurt you ?" His voice was desperate, frustrated. Frightened. I pressed my face down harder, as if to muffle what I was about to say.
"He kissed me," I said, hating the way the words sounded. I wanted to curl up into the smallest possible ball. I wanted to hide. "I really did try to stop him Adrian, he just . . . I'm sorry . . ."
He rolled me over, forcing my face out of hiding, so that I lay on my back with my head in his lap. "Don't you dare apologize to me," he said, his hands shaking as they grasped my face. "Absolutely do not apologize. Did you call the cops?"
"N-no," I said slowly.
"Do you want to call them?"
I could just imagine the line of questioning. Did you know the intruder? Yes. My ex. Did he physically harm you? He forced a kiss on me. Did he threaten violence against you ? No. There were no marks or bruises anywhere on my body. Even the red marks from the grip of his hands on my arms were quickly fading.
"No," I said softly, ashamed of my answer. I didn't want to have to tell more people, be subject to the questions and the skepticism. Besides, what good would it do?
"I understand, baby," he said. "I understand. Don't cry, baby girl. It's okay."
He held me and rubbed my back late into the night. I must have made him promise he wouldn't leave me alone half a dozen times before I finally fell asleep.