66. Bastian
Chapter 66
Bastian
Haven follows me into my bedroom like an obedient little lamb. Nervous, yes—hands outstretched. Cautious—her feet shuffling over the carpet.
But she comes willingly.
And when I coax her onto the bed with little tugs on her collar’s chain, she doesn’t resist.
Kai stares at her like she just appeared out of an interplanetary vortex. He rushes to his feet, hands clenched at his sides, and if I hadn’t put my finger against his lips, he would have spoken.
Shattering the illusion.
He grabs my wrist, pulling me away from his mouth, then the bed. Haven’s chain clinks where it pools on the bed, and she’s on all fours, pawing the sheets like a cat, oblivious.
“I’m not doing this,” he hisses as soon as we’re out of earshot. “Get me an Uber. I’m leaving.”
His impudence is charming, but he’s going to pay for that later.
“Are you sure?”
He glances over where Haven’s gone and slid onto her stomach, her hoodie barely covering her ass. “Fuck.” Then he shakes his head. “Yes.”
“She doesn’t even know you’re here.” I step closer, Kai’s body going rigid as the fabric on our sweatpants brush against each other. I turn my head, putting my mouth by his ear. “She thinks she hallucinated you.”
When I chuckle, Kai shivers.
“You can do whatever you want to her, and she’ll think it’s me,” I whisper. “That kind of anonymity rarely comes around more than once in a lifetime.”
I put my hand on the small of his back, and he slips out of reach in a rush, twisting to knock away my arm. Eyes downcast. Chest heaving.
Then he looks over at the bed again.
Haven rolls onto her back, her hands sliding under my pillows.
Stretches. Signs. Twines her legs together.
I leave him standing there, watching her as I fetch the single armchair in the living room. My arms cord as I lift it so it won’t scrape on the floor, and he’s still there, still staring, as I carefully set it down at the foot of the bed.
Then I pour myself a measure of bourbon, pick up the bottle, and take a seat in the armchair.
As if she can feel my eyes on her, Haven’s legs tighten…and then slowly spread. Her hoodie casts dark shadows between her legs, but I keep my eyes there anyway, if only for Kai’s benefit.
Sipping bourbon.
Waiting.
And it doesn’t take long for him to fight through whatever mental blockade he’d put up. He stalks over to me, snatches my wrist.
I tilt my head back, smile. Put my finger on my lips, hushing him.
He jerks the glass out of my hand and swallows the liquor down, grimacing before shoving it back into my fingers. Then he turns to the bed and slowly climbs on, tossing his head, long hair whipping out of his face before he drops to hands and knees.
I refill my bourbon, taking another sip as I watch Kai prowl toward Haven.
She must be able to feel his weight on the bed, because she draws her legs together again, suddenly shy. Even pulling the hem of her hoodie down to her knees.
Kai grasps her wrists and slowly urges her hands away. When she instead reaches for his head, perhaps to stroke his head or toy with his hair, he rears back, throwing me a frustrated look over his shoulder.
Poor boy.
I wouldn’t have thought someone as attractive and outgoing as Kai could be this inexperienced. But maybe it’s because it’s Haven, someone he so vehemently denies having any affection for, and yet is so fiercely protective of.
I’m tempted to let him figure this out on his own…but then, how can I call myself a teacher?
Smiling, I set down my bourbon and leave the bedroom.