You’re not as evil as people think you are
You’re not as evil as people think you are
My room is my safe space, but I need a change of scenery.
Even after four cups of coffee, exhaustion weighs me down.
Between the nightmare and waking up to find Amelia’s dead, sitting in the same four walls isn’t helping.
Classes are canceled today and tomorrow, leaving the campus eerily quiet.
Most have decided to stay in their rooms or go off campus.
The library feels like the best option. Somewhere to escape my own thoughts and disappear into someone else’s for a while.
On the walk, I only allow myself to think about Amelia once.
I don't want Oliver involved, and analyzing why that is will make me despise myself.
Do I genuinely believe he's capable of something like that?
Yes.
The cushion dips next to me, and I lift my head from the book I’m reading. Oliver is sitting far too close, as if he has the right to do so. He doesn't break the silence; instead, he watches me until I fidget.
I never used to be a fucking fidgeter.
“I’m not putting my book down.” I ignore his presence, pointily staring at the page instead of his stupid grinning face.
“You always read alone?”
“You always interrupt girls trying to read?” I counter.
He leans back against the couch cushion, making himself comfortable. “Only you.”
I study him. “Do you make a habit of watching people?”
“Watching you, yes.”
“Most people read alone because reading is a one-person hobby.” Sarcasm drips from my every word.
“I suppose,” he says, getting comfortable.
I sigh. “What do you want, Ollie?” I inch farther down the small couch.
He follows. “Ollie, is it now?”
“Well, it’s that, vampire, psycho, fuck face. I’m still working through the list.”
“I don’t mind Ollie coming from your lips.”
“I didn’t ask you, did I?”
“Back to your original question.” His gaze drags over me lazily. “The answer is you.”
Another scoot. Another follow.
“Stop moving.”
“Stop scooting.”
For the love of God, give me strength. “What do you want from me?” The million-dollar question. He keeps appearing everywhere I am. I’m surprised he didn’t track me down to the diner this morning.
“You could give me a lot, Lyra. But I doubt you meant the kind of devotion that begins on your knees.”
I slam the book shut, not even bothering to put my bookmark in. “Could you not bring up sex for one conversation?” My patience is fraying.
“Does that include oral?”
“Fucking hell.” I tip my head back, searching for patience. “Yes, that includes oral. That is sex regardless of penetration.”
His grin is amused. “Semantics.”
I just wanted some peace and quiet in the deserted library. I picked a spot on the fourth floor in the back, past the massive cherry wood bookshelves and large staircase, tucked away by a window, thinking no one would come this far.
Huffing, I take a deep breath. He gets on my every nerve. He’s annoying, infuriating, and is giving me a headache. “Let me rephrase. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I took a wild guess after I went to your dorm, and you weren’t there.”
I refrain from pinching the bridge of my nose. “And you wanted to see me because…”
He shrugs, making himself even more comfortable, drawing my feet into his lap, thumb circling the arch. I stare, stunned. I need to do some research about antisocial personality disorder. Because maybe he has that. It would explain so much.
“Did you have anything to do with what happened to Amelia?”
He doesn’t stop his massage of my sock-covered foot. “No, why do you think I did?”
Is he joking?
I lower my voice even though no one is in here, let alone around us. “You threatened her. Then, days later, she’s dead. You don’t expect me not to connect the dots.”
“The police haven’t released whether it was a murder or simply an accident.” No, they haven’t, but my gut is screaming at me that something more is going on.
I look away from him, tipping my head to the ceiling. The intricate crown molding creates a beautiful work of art that covers the entire expanse. “You were at the party.” It’s not a question, but he answers it anyway.
“Yes.”
I look back down at him. “Why did you leave? Vienna said you left early.”
“Because I got what I went for. And I was tired of Jade’s voice.” I laugh at that, releasing my hair from the messy bun I had it in, running my hand through the strands.
He watches my fingers running through my hair. “But you were just sitting with her days ago?” I ask sarcastically.
He presses down on my foot, making me to squeak and yank it back. I scowl at him, but he doesn’t let up. His voice drops, gaze locking onto mine. "She's nothing to me; have you ever seen me give her the time of day? Have you ever seen me touch her? No, you haven't, since I don't fucking like her."
“Then why are you always with them? And no half answers or cryptic evasions.”
“I’ll explain why if you answer a question for me.”
“You want me to cut myself open and let you see my insides, but you won't do the same. I don’t feel like that's a fair trade.”
He sighs, running his hand up my leg, then back down to the arch of my foot. “Vienna was heavily bullied in school. Unless Callan or I were around. It's normal for us to guard her.”
My chest tightens. Who could look at Vienna and choose to hurt her?
“I thought sociopaths don’t feel emotion, let alone care about someone, but it sounds like you care about Vee.” I really need to do more research.
“Another question. But I’ll answer anyway.
I care about Callan, and that falls to his sister.
It’s hard not to like Vienna. Don't generalize me and reduce me to a label. I’ve already told you, Lyra, that I dislike labels.
If you have a question, ask; I may or may not answer.
Now for my question.” I wait on bated breath.
“What did they do to you? I see it in your eyes, the darkness.
You're guarded. And I suspect that a trigger for you is the forest.”
The walls in the library disappear.
Mirrors.
Darkness.
Pain.
“Dollface.” Oliver’s hand closes around my throat. Instead of fear, calm sets in, a reaction I hate. We stare into each other’s eyes, his thumb right over my pulse. “Cracks don’t destroy beauty; they reveal it.”
Am I ready to reveal my soul to Oliver? This guy who manipulates others and doesn’t feel like the rest of us.
“Ask something else. I-I can’t.”
“You can, you just don’t want to.” He releases my throat but doesn't move back.
“Why would I tell you? I don’t trust you. Hell, I don’t even know you.” His gaze hardens.
"Lyra. I’ve shared more with you than I've ever given anyone. That’s new for me.” He leans forward into my space. “So, I’ll ask one last time…what did they do to you?”
“I might…tell you eventually. But not yet,” I concede.
“Fine. Keep your secrets. But understand this, Dollface, the truth has a way of surfacing. I’ll drain it out of you until I know you better than you know yourself.
And you won’t stop me.” It is not a meaningless declaration, and the worst thing is that I’m unsure how or even if I wish to avoid that fate.
"Come on." He lowers my feet, which I suddenly realize he has been stroking all along, and stands with his hand out for me. I take a long look at it before turning to face him.
He sighs, irritated. “Take my hand.”
I get up, grabbing his stupid hand as he intertwines our fingers. “Good girl. You’re learning.” I go to grab my bag and book, but he intercepts, taking both before I can reach down. I slide into my shoes, before he pulls me out of the library.
“Should I even ask where you are taking me, or would that be wasting my breath?”
“See, you’re already catching on. We’re going to a place.”
“A place.” Our intertwined hands are still locked as he drags me. I tug on his arm. “Oliver, slow down.”
He looks back, seeing me huffing and puffing. He releases my hand and hauls me over his shoulder.
“What are you doing? Let me down!” I bang on his back. He proceeds to slap my ass hard in return. “Ow, what was that for?”
“Stop struggling, or I'll spank your sweet ass until it’s red and my handprint is a permanent mark.”
I huff, digging my elbows into his back and propping my hands in them. “If you are taking me somewhere to, I don’t know, kill me or have your way with me, let me be clear—I can fight when I’m not taken off guard.”
He full-on laughs at that, making me scowl. “Baby, stop always thinking I’m going to kill you. I would and will never do that. Where was all that fighting in the shower? You gave in rather quickly.”
“Like I said. When I’m not taken off guard.”
“Where did you learn to fight?” Genuine curiosity edges his tone.
“I have three brothers. Kill or be killed mentality in my house.” I inwardly cringe at my choice of words. “That was horrible phrasing, I meant—”
“I know what you meant, Lyra,” he cuts me off. “This might be hard for you, but trust me for the next few hours.” I wiggle to try and get down and face him, but he slaps my ass three more times in hard succession.
“We’re in public!” I hiss.
“Good, let them see you're off-limits.” I’m not, but telling him would be a waste of breath.
I'm not sure what I expected from Oliver’s vehicle, but a new four-door sports car wasn't it. I was thinking more white van. It confirms how little I know about him. He drops me down in front of the passenger door, opening it, then tipping his head like I’m a dog and he’s the owner.
“Buckle.”
I reach for the seat belt and pull it over my lap. “Yes, Daddy.”
His wicked smirk is back. “Don’t say things like that unless you want that pretty cunt stuffed full of my cock.” He slams the door.
His hands rest easily on the steering wheel as we speed out of the gates of Willow Hill University.
A narrow two-lane road where trees and sea seem to press in on either side.
We climb the windy road, where the cliffs drop down, and there is an ideal beach on warm days.
We park in a roped-off lot with a few cars.