16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
A dam
We’re at Jessica’s school, the one I used to hate. I can’t help but laugh at the irony of it. Now I leave work early and rush here, of all places. Of course, I’m not coming for the school or even for the students.
I’m here for her .
Jessica.
The woman who loves me, and I love her back.
The spring musical is coming up in one week, but the drama teacher, Mrs. Fletcher, tripped down a flight of stairs and busted her hip. Jessica, being the angel she is, offered to take over as director. This year the musical is Wicked , and that’s why my condo is now filled with songs about “defying gravity” as Jessica panic crams the lyrics, memorizing them. Rehearsals every night last from the end of school until 9:00, sometimes 10:00 p.m. This means that Jessica spends over fifteen hours a day here on campus.
At first I stayed home, but that’s a lot of hours away from my girl. Too many hours. If I want to see her—which I do—it dawned on me that I need to come to her . It took twenty minutes to drive here and exactly five minutes before she put me to work.
“West,” Jessica had called, raising her voice to be heard over the obnoxious squeaking of the cadet band as they warmed up. “Could you help the set design team? They need to move some heavy pieces of furniture.”
“Fine,” I’d grumbled, not excited to be the servant of some pimply-faced sixteen-year-old. “Moving furniture” quickly turned out to be rearranging a two-dimensional version of the Emerald City, complete with a Yellow Brick Road. In my teenage years, when I was desperate for money, I’d worked every job imaginable, including construction, so on my third trip to rehearsal, when the Yellow Brick Road crumbled for the fifth time and pieces of mortar landed on Jessica’s still-healing feet, I’d finally had it. I’d plucked a hammer out of a kid’s hand and had barked orders, sending the rest of the kids scrambling.
“You,” I’d pointed, “nose-ring girl, get me a measuring tape, and you, redhead with the bad attitude, we need a level. This wall is crooked. That’s why it keeps falling over.”
The redhead, who I later learned was named Steven, stuck his lower lip out pouting, but he did as I asked. Next thing I know, I’m spending lunch hour in the hospital drawing blueprints for a pulley system that will magically, and safely, hoist the main actress into the air so she can fly on her broomstick. A few days later, forty-eight high schoolers burst into awed applause when it actually works, and the Wicked Witch soars high above their heads.
“Good job, Adam,” said Jessica, slipping her hand into mine. It wasn’t until hours later, when I was buried inside her, that I realized I hadn’t flinched when she’d said my name. I hadn’t broken apart, fallen to pieces. For the first time, that name didn’t cut—it stitched something back together.
“Thank you,” I’d whispered to the heavens as she shattered beneath me, shuddering and moaning. “Thank you for sending her to me.” Later, when she drifted off in my arms, in my bed, where she now sleeps every night, I stared at her for over an hour, filled with wonder that someone as miraculous as her was destined for someone as flawed as me.
Now, it’s past 10:30 p.m. The students have left. Jessica and I are cleaning up, stacking chairs on top of one another until they make a wobbling tower as tall as my chest.
“They like you,” Jessica says after we’re done.
“Who?”
That bright laugh of hers. “The kids.”
I do a double take, to make sure she’s serious. “Really?”
“Yes, really. They look up to you. I can tell. Oh!” Her eyes light up the way they do when she’s excited about something. “I know! You should come talk to them!”
I wave at the now-empty stage. “I’ve been talking to them. Every night for the past week. It’s excruciating.”
She laughs again. “No, I mean come to my classroom. Tell them about how you came from humble beginnings, just like them, but you made it. Now you’re educated and successful. You could be an inspiration to them. Show how they can build a better life.”
I snort. “I’m not an inspiration to anyone .”
She frowns at that, deep creases at the corners of her mouth. “West,” she says in a scolding tone, the one that usually makes me relent.
“Okay. Fine.” I hold up a hand. “Maybe I’ll do it.” She’s more correct than she’ll ever know. I understand exactly what it takes to come from this school and end up with a stable life. Still, I hesitate. “Are you sure? I’m so bossy with them, the kids.” I haven’t bothered to baby any of her students, but I haven’t talked down to them either. I’ve found myself teaching them as I worked beside them. Showing them how to use a plane to shave off curling pieces of wood until it’s straight and true.
“Mmm,” murmurs Jessica, lifting up on her toes to kiss me, her lips soft. She leaves behind the faint taste of cherry Chapstick. “I personally love it when you take control.”
Her words head straight to my dick, which twitches as I visualize all the ways I’d like to control her.
“It’s fun when you take charge too,” I remind her, thinking of how much more assertive she’s become in the bedroom recently. It sparks a feeling of pride in me, to think how over eight months ago she couldn’t even say the word “pussy” out loud.
We grin at each other, the connection between us humming and alive.
“Say you’ll do it,” she says, breaking the silence. “You’ll come talk to my classroom. We can schedule it for the first day back after spring break. You said you’re off that week.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” I say, knowing I’d do anything she asked.
I get a kiss for that, long and lingering.
“Come on.” Jessica links her arm in mine. “I need to return the keys for the supply closet to the nurse’s office. I promised Chelsea I’d put them back when we were done.”
I follow her down corridors I remember all too well. Many times, bruised and bleeding, I walked this same path after being pummeled by school bullies. The nurse’s station is just as I last saw it. Two beds, each with a hanging curtain you can pull around for privacy. The drawer where Jessica replaces the keys is the lowest in the desk, which means she has to bend over to reach it. This puts her very fine ass on display. She’s wearing leggings, and I can see the outline of her thong. My dick is still awake from earlier. The sight before me makes it even more eager. I move closer so when she stands up and turns I’m right there.
“Oh!” she says, startled. One look at my face, and she knows exactly what’s on my mind. She’s gotten very good at reading me. I used to think I’d hate to be so transparent, but I find I love it. Love how we can communicate with just a single glance.
Jessica smirks, a sly look in her eyes. She steps into me, rises up, and circles my neck with her arms. When she feels my erection against her stomach, her grin widens. In a low, alluring purr, she says, “Why hello, Dr. West. How lovely to see you here.”
Fuck .
She knows exactly how to turn me on. I bring my mouth to hers in a hungry kiss. As our lips collide, the air around us shifts. It becomes charged and electric. My palm slides down to grip the ass that started this whole thing. I dig my fingers into it and press her against my length. Jessica moans as I plunder her mouth with my tongue, wishing it was her pussy I was tasting. We’re both panting by the time we break apart.
Without letting go of me, Jessica leans back and surveys the room. I can see the idea form in her pretty head. “You know,” she begins, “this isn’t exactly like your special exam room, but I see a lot of the same equipment…”
I cock my head to the side with an indulgent smile, sure she’s not bold enough to finish that thought.
“We could do it here. In the nurse’s office.”
Damn .
She’s always surprising me.
Jessica walks over to a set of shelves. Her back blocks my vision so I can’t see what she grabs until she turns around and holds them up. They’re tourniquets, the yellow rubber bands that you use to draw blood, the kind I used to bind her to the exam table the first time I fucked her in my secret lair.
“These look awfully familiar,” she teases with an impish grin. “Maybe it’s my turn to tie you up for a change. You did just say how you like it when I take control…” The corners of her delectable mouth rise higher as she lets that sentence dangle between us.
I pause, internally battling with myself. Many times in my past I had no control. The thought of willingly putting myself back in that position sends panic skittering along my nerves, but is it really fair to refuse? I’ve taken that same control from Jessica many, many times now. I’ve bound her, blindfolded her, pushed her out of her comfort zone, and she’s gone along with everything.
If she can be that brave, maybe I can too?
I shake out my shoulders and soak in the mirth that dances in Jessica’s expression. I force myself to smile. “Okay, let’s do it.”
A few more kisses, and we’re both breathless as we undress while stumbling to one of the beds. There’s the thump of our shoes coming off, the metal clink of my belt as I unbuckle it, the whisper of fabric on skin when I pull her shirt high over her head, kissing each inch as it’s exposed. Soft sighs and warm hands tangle together. At the last minute, I reach out and pull the curtain closed, casting us in shadow.
“This is so naughty,” Jessica snickers. “I can’t believe we’re doing this at school.”
I climb on the bed, which is really a stretcher much like the ones we have at the hospital, and lay on my back, shivering as the cool plastic contacts my bare skin. “There should be a handle in the back of this that sits it up. In that position, there’s an opening where you can tie the torniquets,” I tell Jessica, fully understanding that I’m signing my death certificate.
“Okay.” Her golden ponytail bobs as she bends over and adjusts the bed. With her hair up like this, it’s hard to find any difference between the girl who once ruled my wet dreams and the woman I’ve fallen in love with. The truth is that I was obsessed with her then and I’m obsessed with her now, but it’s more than that. I trust her, and that’s why I don’t resist when she ties my hands above my head with efficient, tight knots.
I raise my eyebrows, equal parts surprised and impressed by her handiwork.
She lifts her chin, smug as she says, “I’ve watched how you do these knots. I’m a quick learner.”
“I can see that.” I don’t bother to hide the pride in my voice.
Jessica dramatically tosses her hair, preening, and I laugh.
I’m naked, tied up, in a place I swore I’d never come back to, and she’s making me laugh.
Fuck . I’m so gone for this woman.
Once I’ve stopped chuckling, I challenge, “Okay, funny girl. You’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”
She steps back and chews her plump bottom lip as she thinks. “Hmm. Oh! Wait! I’ve got it.” I get a nice glimpse of her naked backside as she ducks past the curtain. There’s the banging and clattering of drawers opening and closing and then she’s back, holding a thermometer. The old-fashioned kind, long and made of glass with a sliver of mercury gleaming inside. It’s a relic, something left over from past generations.
A nervous buzz runs through me. “I don’t think I have a fever…”
Mischief sparkles in her eyes. “You are pretty hot, but that’s not what I’m going to do with this.” Slowly, she approaches the bed with her back straight and her head tall, the very picture of confidence.
I squirm, alarmed. “If you think you’re sticking that up my butt, you’re crazy.”
“That’s not my target,” she sings out merrily.
When her hand reaches for my dick, I jerk my body away. “Hey! What the hell!”
I never appreciated before how fast her reflexes are. Jessica grabs me and holds on, unwavering, with a determination I’ve never seen.
“Have you ever heard of urethral sounding? Monica told me about it.”
My heart spasms. “Um, I basically invented kinky sex, so yes, I’ve heard of it, but why the hell were you two talking about it?”
“I told you. Monica’s crazy. She knows about all that stuff. Have you ever done it?”
I swallow. “No, and I’m not sure I want to.”
Jessica lifts a brow. “Are you saying it’s okay for you to stick things in me, but not vice versa? That sounds like a big double standard. Besides, Monica said it gives guys an incredible orgasm.” Her hand strokes my shaft, making it infinitely more difficult to form a counterargument. “I think you should let me try. If it hurts or sucks, we can stop.”
I really want to say no. Tying me up is one thing, but urethral sounding is next-level insanity.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Jessica taunts, fully aware that she’s igniting my competitive side.
That’s not why I submit, though. It’s not because I want to prove a point. It’s because I’m loving this new Jessica—the domineering one, the one so comfortable in her own skin.
“Okay,” I agree, internally wincing. “Wipe it off with alcohol, though.”
“Good idea.”
Jessica does as I ask, then approaches me with the now-sanitized thermometer. When she brings it close, I can smell the rubbing alcohol she used, so sharp it stings the back of my nose and throat.
She holds it up. “I put some lube on it too.”
With a firm hand, she holds my penis and puts the thermometer into the opening at its tip. I hiss at the burning stretch of it.
“Remember,” Jessica says, winking, “the safe word is cupcake .”
I narrow my eyes at her, and she laughs, then pushes the thermometer farther in. I turn my head, queasy from the sight of it.
“I don’t think it’s working,” I tell her when suddenly it hits me—a burst of pleasure extending from the tip of my penis to the base. It’s startling in its intensity. “I—oh. Um. Oh.” I can no longer form coherent sentences. Jessica advances the thermometer, and that feeling spreads like wildfire along my shaft, heading straight to my balls. It’s such a strong response that I gasp, my eyes rolling back in my head. “Oh, my god. Wow.”
“Yeah? It’s good?” Jessica asks, sounding delighted.
“It’s…weird, but also good. Not quite like anything I’ve felt before.”
With the thermometer all the way in, she begins to move it back and forth. There’s a pleasant electric sensation. My cock hardens to the point where it’s almost painful, leaking pre-cum. My muscles tense, stomach tightening, as she moves it faster. I want to put my hands on her, to touch her back, so I tug on the restraints, but to no avail. Jessica’s knots hold.
My chest heaves, and sweat dots my brow as I concentrate on the strange, yet pleasurable, feeling. Soon a tingling grows at the base of my cock, an orgasm gathering strength. My mouth drops open in shock when Jessica places her lips on the tip of the thermometer and starts to hum. The vibration from her voice travels through my entire dick, the sensation overwhelming.
“Holy shit, I’m going to come,” I spit out, practically hyperventilating from the rapture of it.
“Not yet!” Jessica pulls out the thermometer and places it on a table next to the bed while I do my best to hold back my climax. Quickly, she climbs onto my lap, straddling me. Watching me must have aroused her because she’s nice and wet as she slides down my length and starts to bounce. I groan at the way she grips me, soft yet firm. As she rides my shaft with her eyes half-lidded, Jessica lifts a lazy hand to her breast and squeezes, teasing and tugging at her nipple as I stare enraptured. The sight of her touching herself is so fucking sexy that the orgasm I just buried rises in me again, tightening my balls.
We both hear it at the same time—a man’s voice out in the hallway, right by the door. We freeze mid-thrust. Jessica’s arms tighten around my neck as her terror-stricken gaze meets mine.
Shit. Please don’t come in here. Please don’t come in here.
The door opens with a squeak, and the man’s voice gets significantly louder. He’s in the room with us. I’m looking into Jessica’s eyes, so I see the moment they widen with recognition. Whoever this guy is, she knows him.
I raise my eyebrows questioningly, and she mouths back silently, “My principal. Wilson.”
Crap . I’ve heard her say that name before. Wilson. Her boss. Literally the worst person in the world to catch us in this position. She’d be fired for sure, which I know would kill her. Jessica loves her students like they’re her own.
Rapidly, I think through every scenario possible, wanting to be the hero who saves her. Should I go out there and attack the guy? Knock him out so she can escape? No. Too risky. Should I throw something across the room and when he goes to investigate the source of the noise, we sneak out? No. That only works in the movies. What else can I do?
As usual, Jessica reads my mind. She shakes her head at me, pleading silently for us to stay still. She lifts a single finger to her mouth in a “shhh” gesture. I nod back, agreeing with her that our best shot is to stay hidden and hope this guy moves on.
Clutching each other, we watch tense with fear as Wilson steps closer. His shadow slips across the room and under the curtain that separates us. If it had eyes, we’d be finished. He talks loudly, telling someone how he hates the Board of Education and how he thinks they’re all a bunch of idiots with their heads stuck up their butts. His voice is high with a whistling, nasal tone. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.
We stay frozen, barely breathing. The curtain twitches as he walks past, yammering on about how whiney and demanding his teachers are and how if they don’t raise their test scores this year, he’s going to fire them all himself.
That makes Jessica turn five shades of red. She glares at the curtain that separates us.
Finally, Wilson’s footsteps grow fainter as he heads toward the door to the parking lot, which is on the other side of the room. As he leaves, the last of his words trail back to us. “Still can’t believe I got stuck in this loser school. It’s all because of McMillian down on the board. I swear he’s got it out for me.” The door slams shut behind him, thankfully ending his stream of negativity.
“What a dick!” I say in my quietest voice, unsure how far away her principal is.
“He’s an asshole,” Jessica hiss-whispers in agreement. Angry blotches still paint her cheeks.
I’d assumed that interruption had ruined our little escapade, but Jessica proves me wrong. She lets out a relieved sigh, then kisses me long and deep. With her mouth on mine, she rises up onto her knees and slams down, taking all my length at once.
“ Fuck ,” I gasp, my neck muscles straining. I’ve spent the last ten minutes stopping myself from coming, but now I let that swirling pleasure work its way back into my system until I’m flooded with it. It only takes a few thrusts before Jessica’s cheeks flush pink and her head lolls back. Breathless, she leans her forehead to mine and says, “I’m so close. Come with me, Adam.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I let go with a hushed roar. My cock pumps hard and fast, the most powerful orgasm of my life. Jessica cries out with soft moans as she collapses onto me. She lays there panting, her golden hair spilled across my chest. I let the moment stretch out, not wanting to rush how her breath slows until it matches the steady beats of my heart.
Finally, I can’t ignore the tingling pain in my hands or the fact that I’m aching to hold her. Appreciating our role reversal, I press a kiss to the top of her head and murmur, “Pretty girl, I’m about thirty seconds away from losing both of my hands. Can you please untie me before I have to learn how to do everything with my feet?”
Jessica stirs, her nose scrunching as she blinks out of her post-orgasm daze. “What?” she mumbles.
“Not to ruin the mood, but my hands are turning blue,” I say with a grin, as I shift beneath her. “I kinda need them—you know, for my job. To do surgery. So untie me.”
Jessica blinks at me, her drowsy brain catching up, before an amused smile curls her lips. “You were right earlier. You are so bossy.”
“And you’re so comfortable.”
She sits up, smirking as she reaches for the knots. “This is what you get for letting me have full creative freedom.”
As soon as my hands are free, I don’t hesitate. I wrap my arms around her and pull her down, flipping us over so I can pin her beneath me. “Freedom, huh?” I tease, brushing my lips over hers. “You’re lucky I like your wild ideas.”
She giggles, her arms looping around my neck. “And you’re lucky I didn’t tie your feet too.”
I tuck my face into Jessica’s neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “Let’s save that for next time.”
She tilts her head back, laughter bubbling up her throat. I want so badly to capture that sound in a bottle, to live in this perfect moment with her forever.
Jessica
As we dress in the nurse’s office, I’m still in awe of what we just did. The way West gave himself over to me was one of the most empowering experiences of my life. To be loved like that, trusted like that, especially by him , someone who doesn’t trust easily, is something pretty special. I sense a shift between us, a deepening of our relationship, a rebalancing of power, and I know West feels it too. His fingers trail over my arm, his hand lingers at the small of my back, and his lips press fleeting kisses to my temple like he can’t bear to stop touching me.
I scoop up his car keys and toss them to him. “Let’s head home. I’m ready for a bath and bed.”
The door that leads to the parking lot bangs open, letting in the sound of honking cars and distant sirens. Immediately, West steps in front of me, like he’s a human shield, ready to protect me from any threat.
The intruder barrels into the room, out of breath and wild-eyed. It’s Kent Wilson. When he sees us, he jerks to a stop and puts his hand on his chest like he’s having a heart attack. “Jesus! What’re you doing here, Jessica?”
“The spring musical, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Kent runs his eyes over me, such a common occurrence that I barely notice it, although I hope he misses my crazy post-sex hair.
“When’s the show start?” he asks.
It’s an effort, but I hold back my sigh of annoyance. He’s the principal—he should know this. “Tomorrow is opening night.”
Kent’s gaze shifts to West, and the room seems to freeze.
West stiffens next to me, his shoulders tight and squared. The color drains from his face. I glance between the two men, confused.
What the hell?
“This is Adam West,” I tell Kent. “He’s been helping me out with the musical.”
“Adam, this is Kent, my principal…,” I trail off, baffled by the obvious tension in the room.
In strained voice, West says, “I thought your boss was named Wilson.”
“Yeah, Kent Wilson. We mostly call each other by last names around here.”
My gaze bounces back and forth between the two men, who look like they’re locked in a staring contest.
Kent breaks first, with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Adam fucking West. It is you, isn’t it?”
West flinches next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I ask, baffled. “Do you two know each other?”
Kent barks out a laugh. “Are you serious, Jess? You don’t remember this little twerp?”
I glance around the room, wondering who he’s talking about. Surely it can’t be 6’3’’ West with his chiseled body and model good looks. “Who?”
Kent’s laughter turns cold. His gaze slides to West. “This kid. I used to beat him up all the time. Such a weak little cunt. He never lifted a hand to stop me.”
West doesn’t respond. He just stares at Kent stonily with his jaw tight.
“Remember, Jess? He was a senior, in the same grade as me.” There’s pure spite in the glare Kent sends West. “Fucker kept ruining the curve in every class I had with him. It’s his fault my grade-point average fell. I missed a football scholarship in Florida because of this asshole.” He takes a threatening step toward West, but I move forward to block him.
“Stop it, Kent.” I put a hand on his chest, so he can’t come closer. “I don’t know what this is about, but leave him alone.”
Kent gapes at me, then flicks a look to West and back. “Wait…wait a second. Don’t tell me you two are together?” His voice pitches louder with disbelief. “No fucking way. You? With him ?”
I pull myself tall and let the pride I feel for West flow into my words. “He’s my boyfriend. The one I told you about.”
Kent points with his mouth hanging open. “ This nerd loser? Is your boyfriend?”
I nod and say, “Yes, but I think you’ve mistaken him for someone else. West didn’t go to school with us.”
Malice dripping from his words, Kent leans around me. “Tell her, Adam. Tell her how I used to fuck you up.”
Silence from West. The first tendril of doubt takes root in my mind.
My chest tightens as I turn to West, my voice barely above a whisper, and ask, “West?”
It’s like watching a balloon deflate. West’s shoulders bow, and his frame sags like the weight of this moment is crushing him. His mouth moves, silently counting. 1, 2, 3, 4. When he gets to 5, his mumble is so quiet that I strain to hear. “It’s true.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
Louder this time, but still not meeting my eyes, West says, “I graduated from here.”
My stomach lurches, my world tilts dangerously like the ground opened beneath me and I just tumbled into a new reality. One where West isn’t who I thought he was, who he said he was.
“You knew me? Knew who I was?”
West doesn’t answer, his silence speaking louder than words ever could. Minutes ago, I felt like I was in a dream, but it turns out this is a nightmare.
Adam
Jessica stares at me, her brow knit together with a pleading look like she’s begging me to say it isn’t true.
I can’t, though. I can’t lie to her. Not anymore.
“I knew.”
I see the second it happens, when the betrayal hits. Rose blooms on her cheeks, such a pretty sight for such an ugly moment.
Kent gasps dramatically. “What?! You didn’t know?” He lets out a sharp, braying laugh that echoes in the small room. He bends over, his hands on his knees, laughing so hard he wheezes. “He didn’t tell you, Jessica? This boyfriend you’ve been bragging about for months?”
My fists clench so tightly that my nails dig into my palms. Of all people—why does he have to be Jessica’s boss? Kent, my high-school tormentor. My bully. The urge to shut him up is almost impossible to resist. It would be so easy to give him back all the pain and misery he gave me, but magnified by ten.
I can’t, though.
Not here. Not now.
Because if I do, Jessica might pay the price. Her reputation, her job, the students she loves so much—one wrong move, and I could ruin it all for her. I grit my teeth and swallow the anger, letting it simmer beneath the surface.
“Jess,” I say with quiet desperation, begging her to look at me. “Let’s go. We can talk about this at home.”
“Home?! Oh my god, don’t tell me you live together?” Kent howls, every bit the smug prick he was back in high school. “This keeps getting better.”
Her jaw working, Jessica ignores both Kent and me, but she’s holding back tears. I can see how she swallows them down.
I run a hand through my hair and steady my voice to say, “Come on. Let’s go.” I place a gentle hand on her upper arm.
She rips away from my grasp and hisses, “Don’t touch me!”
Panic thumps its wings in my chest. I’m losing her, right before my eyes. I’m losing the only person I care about in this entire godforsaken world.
Kent, ever the opportunist, smirks at her. “Don’t worry, Jess. You can always come home with me.”
God help me, I’m going to kill him.
Jessica curls her lip, disgust written across her face, and answers with an icy, “No thanks.”
“Your loss, babe,” Kent shoots back, shrugging as if he didn’t just pour gasoline on an already raging fire.
Jessica doesn’t spare him another glance. She turns her focus entirely on me—her eyes filled with anger, betrayal, and something far worse: heartbreak.
Jessica
I don’t talk to West on the drive home. God knows, he tries. He explains, cajoles, argues, and eventually begs, but I don’t hear any of it. I’ve tuned him out. Instead, I’m listening to my own internal dialogue, which repeats like a mantra.
Stupid, dumb Jessica. So na?ve.
Barely holding onto my sanity, I grip the door handle so hard my knuckles ache and take in one shuddering breath after another .
Should’ve known better. Can’t trust him…or anyone.
No parents. No love. No family.
That’s my destiny.
The minute we enter the condo, West moves toward me, but I hold up my hand.
“Just…just leave me alone. I need to think. To process.” I can’t stand to look at him right now. “I’m sleeping up in my old room. Please, don’t follow.”
His face falls. A little part of me wants to go to him, to reassure him everything will be okay, but the louder part of me is still reeling. Without waiting for his answer, I wind up the spiral stairs, dragging my feet like I’m going to my execution.
My bed is just as I left it, neatly made with the nightlight shining beside it. I don’t bother turning on any other lamps. The covers are smooth and cool as I climb in and pull them over me. Once I’m lying down, all the questions I’ve been holding back come flooding in.
Why didn’t he tell me?
How could he have lied for so long?
Was this entire thing a setup? Did he plan to lure me here to his home, into his arms, or was it a series of coincidences that spiraled out of control?
The clock ticks away the hours as I toss and turn. Anxiety and insecurity gnaw at my insides, leaving me hollow. My mind replays the look on Kent’s face, his malicious glee as he exposed West’s secret. I see West’s pale expression, the truth unraveling in his silence.
By 4:30 a.m., I’ve had enough. Frustration boils over, and I fling the covers aside.
The condo is silent when I wander downstairs. The door to West’s room is partly opened, which is how he always leaves it. I’ve learned he hates to be in a closed room, although he’s never explained why. Chalk it up to one more secret he hides from me.
I peek through the crack in the door and see he’s asleep. The top of his dark hair sticks out from twisted and tangled blankets. Looks like he had a restless night as well. One muscled arm extends to the empty side of the bed where I usually sleep, like he’s reaching for me…but I’m not there.
The sight sends a pang through my heart.
For a minute, I think about going to him, crawling into bed so he can cover me with kisses, so he can soothe me, but I resist. The sting of his betrayal is too sharp.
I turn away, heading for the kitchen. Coffee , I decide. Something to occupy my hands, my mind, since I’m not going back to sleep anytime soon. As I pass the door to his private examination room, I notice it’s open. He never locks it anymore.
Nostalgia tugs at me, begs me to enter.
The lights are bright when I hit the switch, making me blink. I go to the exam table, where West has tested me, taught me, loved me in ways I never would have imagined, and trail my fingers along its surface. I’m not sure if I’ll ever lie here again.
My tears fall silently, splattering like raindrops on the upholstered surface.
The security monitors catch my eye, their screens glowing faintly in the corner. They’re always on, showing every angle of the condo. Wanting to get a closer look at the place I once called home, I sink into the padded chair, the leather creaking under me, and lean forward.
The keyboard offers five options:
Play. Stop. Rewind. Fast forward. Search.
I press rewind, sending the footage spinning back in a blur of motion. Images fly by—West pacing at the bottom of the stairs, glancing up toward my room. I slow down and watch as he takes a step forward, then retreats, repeating the motion like a man at war with himself. The timestamp says this was earlier tonight. At a slower pace, I fast forward. Hours pass, and he doesn’t leave that spot. At 3:00 a.m., he finally gives up and trudges to his room, collapsing onto the bed fully dressed.
This isn’t the comfort I was looking for.
With a sigh, I rewind further, going back days, weeks, until I find a memory. West and I are on the couch, with the fireplace casting a golden light over us. I’m laughing, holding up my romance book, teasing him about a ridiculous sex scene.
“There’s no way,” a giggling, blissfully ignorant, past version of me says. “No one can do it in that position.”
Dramatically, West tosses his own book over his shoulder. “Sounds like a challenge.”
He pulls me into his arms, his laughter infectious. We tumble onto the couch, the memory glowing with the warmth of love and lust and everything we used to be.
How I wish we could go back to being those people.
Eyes blurry, I rewind again.
This time, it’s my bedroom. It must be late because the cameras are in night vision mode, which paints the scene in muted tones. I’m asleep, my hands tucked under my cheek. Movement catches my eye, and I see him—West. He’s sitting in the armchair, watching me.
What?
I advance through every night that follows, and it’s like one of those nature shows where a time-lapse movie shows a flower transform from a bud into a full-blown blossom. Every night he sits in that chair like a guardian angel and watches me sleep, but over weeks and months, he evolves. First, he moves closer. A few weeks later, he tucks the covers around me before he leaves. Soon, he brushes hair from my face, and by the end he presses a kiss to his fingers and transfers it to my forehead. It’s like I’m witnessing the slow progression of his love for me, the dismantling of his walls.
For the first time, I think maybe we can make it through this. I’m sure if we talk about it in the morning, he’ll have a good explanation. Judging from what Kent said, West was a very different person in high school. He must have been ashamed. That’s probably why he hid that he recognized me. If I put myself in his shoes, it all starts to make sense. He was embarrassed and wanted us to have a fresh start. It’s almost romantic when I think about it. Maybe he’s had feelings for me all these years. He saw his one opportunity with me and didn’t want to pollute it with the old image of himself.
We can do this , I think.
We can move past the lies and make it work.
I hit play on one final clip, the night of the gala. West kneels beside my bed, whispering words I strain to hear.
“Sometimes I think fate made you just for me,” he murmurs. “That you’re the world’s way of making up for every shitty thing that came before. If that’s the case, then I’m okay with it. It was worth it, all the pain and suffering, to get you at the end.” He tenderly brushes my hair away from my face and gently kisses my forehead.
My hand rises to clutch my chest as I stifle a sob. It’s the sweetest, most impassioned speech I’ve ever heard. Emotion swells in my chest, overwhelming joy to know he loves me so deeply.
On the screen he whispers, “I’ve fucked hundreds of women, but I’ve only ever kissed one.”
Something silver and sharp flashes in his hand.
Time stretches out—freezes.
I watch with mounting horror as West stabs a needle into my neck.
My hand flies to the spot, and sure enough. There it is. A tiny, hard object embedded under my skin.
What the fuck?