Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peach
Yours - Conan Gray
M y head pounds. My mind is slow. My eyes are heavy.
"Fuck," I groan as I turn onto my side.
My heart palpitates from how unwell I still feel.
Another day waking up in sheets that smell like my best friend. I inhale a deep breath because it's the only good news right now.
"No drugs, huh?"
I startle at Wren's clear voice resonating from somewhere beside me. I finally open my eyes to see him standing right by the bed, already in his SFU uniform, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is tense, jaw clenching, and the rest of his body is stiff as a board. His shoulders are flexing so hard I wonder how they haven’t ripped through his shirt yet.
Sitting up, I place my feet flat on the floor to face him. My head is hurting badly enough that my vision blurs for a few seconds.
"I didn't—" I croak, but he's too mad to let me speak.
"If you weren't feeling like shit, I'd put you on your front, tie your hands behind your back, and spank you until your ass is raw."
I gulp as that same feeling of excitement and fear courses through me again. Except today, it's making me feel sick.
"You lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you," I try again, frustrated. "I didn't take anything."
He leans forward until his eyes are right in front of mine. "I knew your pupils were dilated during dinner. I don't know why I believed you."
"But—"
"Shower. You're not missing classes because you can't control yourself."
He rips the covers away, and I shiver. Another wave of sickness washes over me as the cold and bad hangover mix. I stand up in a rush, running to the bathroom before emptying whatever is left from last night's dinner.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, and the second I look back into the mirror, I notice Wren leaning on the bathroom door frame. The scowl on his face is there to stay, and his arms are still crossed, shoulders tensed. I’ve always taken our arguments as a challenge, but this feels different. My gut is twisted at the idea of him being disappointed with me.
"Wren," I huff, desperate to make things right. I hate that look on his face, hate that it's aimed at me. "Please, can you at least listen to me?"
"So you can lie some more?" He shakes his head. "You're my Hera, Peach. Lying to your Shadow gets some women killed within the Circle."
My heart drops, and I remember his words from yesterday about him canceling our deal. I flip around so quickly I have to put a hand on the sink to stay standing.
"Wait, wait," I blurt out in a panic. "Don't throw our deal away. I heard your warning. I'm not fighting back. I'm not."
"See, my problem is that I'm too na?ve when it comes to you. I'm blindly in love, wanting to believe anything that makes me hope we're heading toward something great, something I've yearned for my entire life. But you…" He rubs a hand over his face, clearly looking for the right thing to say. "You'll do anything to keep me at a distance."
He stays silent, biting his inner cheek. I see it in the dent it makes against his perfect skin. His square jaw has never seemed so tense.
I take a step toward him, but a sharp shake of his head makes me freeze.
"You're in love with me?" I croak, my vocal cords hurting from the acid that went up my throat.
It's both his hands that go to his face this time, rubbing like a man losing hope in being understood.
"God, Peach," he groans, the words swallowed by his palms against his mouth. He looks up. "How? How can you not know that?"
"You never said it," I whisper as my stomach swoops. "That's how."
"No," he says tightly. "You never heard it , that's the difference. Because how could someone who believes so strongly, they're not deserving of love ever see how desperately in love with you I am. For heaven's sake, I've followed you around my entire life. I'm a lost puppy, always eagerly waiting for a drop of your attention."
"You're my best friend, of course you're around," I defend.
He throws his head back in exasperation.
"Stop," he huffs. "Fuck. Just stop. Stop ignoring what has always been there. You're special. You're my favorite. You've always been my favorite. Just spend a second with your own thoughts for once and think of the differences I've always made between you, and Alex and Ella. I don't take care of them. I don't let them sleep in my bed when they take too many drugs and drink too much. I don't look for them when I walk into a room. They're not the first people I call to talk to about something. I don't text them to make sure they're not exhausting themselves with work. Shit, I didn't force them to be my Hera."
He takes a step toward me, but he doesn't touch me. His words though…they pierce through my heart.
"You want to ignore the signs? The proofs? Be my guest, but don't deny my love for you. Never deny my love for you," he says through clenched teeth.
"Because there has never been anyone else in my heart but you, Peach. You take all the space in there with your attitude and sassy mouth. You left no one else a chance because no one has your eyes full of challenge, your soft hair, your perfect skin. No one has two crooked lower canines like you, three freckles that make an equilateral triangle on their right shoulder. No one makes my heart beat . And I don't mean they make my heart skip a beat, or make my heart palpitate. I mean that when I'm not around you, I don't feel my fucking pulse, do you understand that? I feel dead unless I can hear your voice that’s always a little too loud and opinionated, unless I can see that little vein on your forehead when someone angers you."
I can't breathe. Fuck. I can't breathe. My heartbeat is racing, the room swimming.
"I'm crazy when it comes to you. But I accepted that a long time ago. Because why wouldn't I be crazy? When you've been through one-sided love for so long, no wonder you start breaking into their fucking room at night and killing for them. You shove Scrabble tiles down people's throat when they hurt your obsession. I.L.U. I love you. Because fuck , I love you."
Breathe, Penelope. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I'm panting, but he's worse. His face is red from the long speech. And I don't think I can take a breath until he does the same.
"And you," he finally says. "You lie. To me and to yourself. Because you're an addict. A functioning addict, so well done. But those fucking pills, and coke, and alcohol, it will always come before anyone else in your life."
As I blink, tears fall from my eyelashes onto my cheeks.
"No," I try to say, but my throat is so tight it comes as a squeak. "No, Wren, please, I didn't mean to lie. I don't remember. You have to believe me."
The beautiful blue in his eyes has never looked so mournful.
"Maybe I-I did take something. Maybe I had more beers than I thought. I don't know. Just, please don't be mad at me."
I try to grab his hand, but he steps back. It's so clear to me, clearer than anything else in my life, that Wren has put up with so much when it comes to me, that it would kill me to lose him. I can't.
He chuckles sadly. "The most heartbreaking thing is that I'm not mad at you. I can't be. I try to find your flaws and sear them into my brain. I try to hate them and you. I try to tell myself that you've hurt me enough times that I must be angry enough to fucking leave you behind. But I can't. Just like no matter what you do, our deal won't be off, because I'm not looking for your parents to hold something over you. I'm doing it because I'm full of hope that maybe, maybe then you'll finally be whole and happy and understand that being abandoned doesn’t. Fucking. Define. How worthy of love you are. And maybe…maybe once you learn that you’re worthy of love, you’ll be able to accept mine."
He runs his tongue across his teeth. He's so full of sorrow it crashes into me in unstoppable waves.
"So no, I'm not mad at you, Peach. But fuck am I disappointed and…and sad ."
The truth of such a simple, common word rips through my entire chest. It's a massacre. Painful and deadly, leaving me with internal bleeding.
"Because you're mine. You're my Hera. You'll always be by my side, willingly or not. But me? I'm not yours. And I might never be yours." He swallows thickly, his words barely audible as his eyes shine with unshed tears. "And that hurts."
He's right. It does hurt.
I look at Xi wrapping a hand around Alex's face as he pulls her in for a kiss and toss my head back, rolling my eyes. I've barely calmed down from what happened this morning with Wren, and these two are reminding me of how delicious it feels to have someone holding you possessively. Something that Wren would do if I hadn’t fucked it up so badly.
It wasn't the first time in my life that he had a go at me about the kind of states I put myself in. More than once, he’s lectured me about not hanging out with my sorority sisters. It's the role I've always allowed him to have. He keeps me in line with his brand of strictness, and that worked in our friendship.
It threatens my sanity in our new dynamic.
Especially when it comes with knowing he does it out of pure love for me.
"Xi," I groan. "Is it me, or are you on this campus a lot ?"
"Peach," Alex tells me off quickly. "You can't say things like that. It's rude." We're all sitting on a bench in the middle of the Acropolis, cold, but enjoying a sunny fall day while we eat our lunch.
"What? I love him," I add. "I'm just saying, you know, he's not a student. This is basically trespassing."
Xi's face stays impassive as he turns to me. "Yeah, because I've always cared a lot about respecting the law."
"Ooh, you're so bad," I mock.
"Well, he did set a car on fire because someone bothered me once," Alex mumbles to herself.
"Yeah, so what? I've set a car on fire once. You didn't fall in love with me afterward, for all I know."
"You did it because that man had parked in a disabled spot," she explains. "Not for me."
"Yeah, whatever."
I turn to look the other way on the bench, only to find Chris's arm wrapped around Ella's shoulders as they murmur in each other's ears and start giggling like two lovesick teenagers.
Why did I sit between two couples? All this does is remind me that I might have blown my chances with the only man I’ve ever felt strongly about.
For fuck's sake, even in my own thoughts, I refuse to use being in love as a term when it comes to Wren. The vulnerability it would come with could tear me to pieces.
"Alright," I declare as I stand up. "That's enough PDA for me for the day. Actually, for the week." Throwing away the paper bag that had my burger in it, I pick up my books I had left in the grass.
"You didn't seem to mind PDA when this happened." Alex laughs as she shows me the last Hermes post again.
I've seen this shit too many times. Someone took a picture of Wren kissing me at the bar. Elijah is in the background, looking so distraught, everyone is having the time of their lives tearing him apart in the comments.
Hermes only wrote one sentence.
She gave in to one Hunter brother. But the other is not giving up.
#threesomeincoming #Wren1Elijah0 #WrenHunterisFINALLYtakingabiteofthePeach
I huff. "Alex. You're my friend, and I say we are not talking to Wren at the moment."
I might be starting to vaguely put names on my feelings for him, but I'm not going to pretend to forgive him for not keeping his word about showing everyone else we're together.
We're not together, anyway. This was forced . I never agreed to being with him out of my own free will.
Except, I want to be with him.
But that's beside the point.
"You’re both my friends, and I will keep being Wren’s friend," Alex assures me. "Especially if you won't tell me why I shouldn’t be talking to him. And you didn't look like you minded that kiss. I'm just saying."
"I minded," I snap. "I minded a lot. You're my friend," I repeat, pointing at myself. "Mine."
"Fucking hell, she's possessive," Xi comments.
"You’re one to talk." I glare at him before I turn my back to them. "I'm off to cheer practice."
"But practice starts in half an hour," Ella calls out.
"Didn't you hear the part where I said I was done with PDA? And I have to see Coach Gomez so we can draw the rally girls."
"I'm so glad I didn't participate in that," Ella mumbles.
I wonder if she even had a choice on whether she could participate or not. She's Chris’s Hera after all, and their dynamic must be similar to the one I now have with Wren.
"Yeah, sure," I conclude as I start making my way to the sports complex.
It's a ten-minute walk of absolute disaster in my head. How am I ever going to think straight again when I know Wren Hunter is in love with me?
Why the hell is he even in love with me? He's clearly hurting from it.
Making a deal with him was the tip of the iceberg. He admitted to stalking me, breaking into my house at night. He’s been waiting for this forever. He’s murdered people. And the only thing I manage to focus on is that someone out there is in love with me. My best friend is in love with me.
I make my way through the hallways, drop my bag and books in the women's locker room, and get changed in my cheer uniform. Checking my phone again, I read the messages I sent to Wren while I was in class. I asked him how he is. I apologized for accidentally lying about how much I drank last night. I justified myself, telling him I felt fine at dinner and didn't realize how drunk I was. But the truth is, I don't even remember us leaving the bathroom of the restaurant and going home. It's by reading the text again that I realize how pathetic I sound. Like a real addict. No wonder he didn't reply. It's been years I've tried to ignore the thoughts in my head by using substances. So I don’t have to deal with vulnerability and the things that hurt me. I smoke, I drink, I snort, and I write letters to my biological parents to tell them that it's all their fault.
I'm pathetic.
I'm about to enter Gomez's office, when Wren comes out of it.
My heart squeezes, my brain going numb. It's only been a few hours, but I missed him.
He's not in his full lacrosse kit yet, only wearing his jersey and a pair of gray sweatpants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. I'm practically salivating when he calls my name.
"Peach, you should really try to hide how badly you want me. You're so obvious it makes it hard for me to resist you."
He tries to make it sound lighthearted, like the same advances he's always thrown my way, but he's angry. I can hear it. I know him. This isn’t the same and it makes my chest heavy.
"You didn't answer any of my texts?" Why am I making it sound like a question. It's a fact.
"I was in class," he explains. His lips pinch, and he rolls them inwardly as he thinks. "Trying to focus on one thing at a time so I can keep you out of my mind."
"Wren," I murmur desperately, every feeling I have for him rushing to the surface. "I don't want to lose you because I've always been too stubborn to see how much you mean to me."
Refusing to hear me, he looks away. "You won't lose me. We were promised to each other in front of the Circle. You're stuck with me forever. A fact you were pretty angry about until recently."
Swallowing my nerves, I put a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look back at me. "You know that's not what I meant. You . I don't want to lose you . I don't want to be with you as your Hera. I want to be with you as the girl who finally opened her eyes to the kind of relationship we've always had. I know I'm stubborn, but if there is one person who's always made me feel safe enough to be vulnerable, it's you. That's the man I don't want to lose."
He snorts, unable to keep his beautiful eyes on mine, and it breaks my heart.
“You’re just scared of losing the man you’re used to having around. Not me . You can’t deal with all of me. All the bad that comes with it. I don’t…” He huffs. “I can’t do this right now, Peach.”
My face falls. “You sound like you’re giving up on me,” I say in a barely audible voice.
I fucked it. This is what I do. I fuck everything up and people give up because I couldn’t open up. Because…I couldn’t believe someone was capable of truly loving me.
“Were you on your way to see Coach? You should get going before practice starts.”
“Please, don’t give up on me,” I squeak.
“Are you in love with me, Penelope?” he blurts out.
“I–” My heart gallops, but the words don’t come out. Why do they feel so impossible to say?
“I can control all of you,” he says calmly, the words ringing their truth in the empty hallway. “But I can’t control your heart.” A mask transforms his face, the one he shows everyone on campus. “Now let’s get to practice.”
With a hand in the pocket on his sweatpants, he brings the other to my face, squeezing my cheeks together in one grip and making my lips pout.
“But before you talk to Coach Gomez, I want you to remember that this conversation doesn’t mean you’re free of me. And it certainly doesn’t mean you get to go around doing whatever you want.”
"Wren," I groan, attempting to step away with no result. I don't think I'm really trying. The back-and-forth used to feel real, but now it just feels like foreplay.
I grab his wrist, but he shakes his head. "Keep your hands by your sides."
"We're in public," I try to articulate behind his grip as I drop my hand.
"That we are. Better listen, then. I want you to be my rally girl. I won't accept anyone else, but mainly, you won't be bringing cookies and showing up with glittery signs for another player. Nod, pretty girl."
When I don't, his eyebrows pull together.
"Don’t you think you’ve angered me enough today? Last night in the restaurant didn't teach you anything, huh? "
It’s come to a point where any attention from him feels like a gift, even his control.
"We're picking at random."
The words are barely articulated, but he gets it.
"Peach, I apologize if I made it sound like I care how you do it. Just make it happen. Try again with the nodding, will you?"
The condescending tone doesn't even make me mad. It just turns me on. I nod, trying my best at the same time to calm my heartbeat. He's too close. His smell is overwhelming, always surrounding me with his presence. And his skin electrifies mine to the point that I can't stop the tingling from going all the way to my lower stomach.
He releases me, and I look around to make sure no one saw us. Observing me from head to toe, he seems hesitant to say something. In the end, it clearly pains him to say it, but I think we both need to hear it.
“You shouldn’t have come to the initiations,” he whispers, his deep voice cracking from the hurt. “Then we would have both been free of this torture.”
By the time I come out of Gomez’s office, I have a list of players' names and their affiliated rally girls. Of course, my name is right next to Wren's. Gomez was paying so little attention, it wasn't hard to make it happen.
At the end of practice, all the players and cheerleaders gather around me. Wren stands at the back, his helmet at his feet and arms crossed over his chest. His hard gaze is on me, and all I want is for him to kiss me and soften his features. Instead, I focus on the sheet in my hand. I address myself to everyone, while inside, his words from before practice still bounce against my skull.
Is that how he really feels? That this is torture?
"Alright, I'm going to give you each player's name and their rally girl. Please, remember this isn't just so you can have a pretty girl supporting you for the rest of the semester. You have to actively participate in raising funds for the Silver Falls North Shore Women's Shelter. So, post you and your rally girl on socials and share the link to the funding page everywhere. Talk to people after games and all that. Girls, same for you. Share what you do for your player, ask for suggestions of what people want to see, show up to all the games, even those of you who aren't cheerleaders. And keep asking for donations."
I'm met with a completely disinterested group, bar Ella and Wren. I'm about to whistle and snap at them, call them out on their over-privileged lives, when Wren slaps the back of the lacrosse captain's head.
"Get your team in order," he says, voice low.
If Wren wanted, he would be captain. Jordan knows perfectly well he would not have a chance at keeping his spot if Wren fought for it. He simply doesn't want it. But the hierarchy stays the same everywhere on campus. Wren Hunter is at the top of the chain, and if he says something, everybody listens.
Jordan is suddenly in a rush to get everyone to shut up. And less than a minute later, I've got everyone's attention. I repeat my little speech and give every rally girl the name of her player.
"Any questions?" I ask, looking at all of them.
Marissa, who was one of the first girls to sign up for this, despite not being a cheerleader, raises her hand, and I nod at her.
"Are you sure the names were picked randomly?"
"I'm sure," I lie without hesitation. "Anyone else?"
"I just think it's weird you got the exact guy you wanted," she insists.
I offer her a smile, so falsely sweet it would probably taste of aspartame on my lips.
"Believe me, I didn't want him." Another lie. I'm really on fire.
I catch Wren arching an eyebrow at me, and I'm thankful for the fact that he's standing at the back of the group when he silently mouths "liar."
"If you don't want him, can I have you?" Miles, the other attacker, asks.
A couple of gasps mix with a few laughs. Apparently, not everyone is that scared to upset Wren today.
"You can have her," Wren says calmly. "As long as you don't mind living with two shattered knees."
The laughs double, making me roll my eyes. Wren slaps Miles a little too violently on the shoulder as he makes his way between his teammates.
"I think they understood what they have to do," he tells me as he approaches.
My heart accelerates when I understand he's done with sharing my attention. I barely have time to shake my head to attempt to stop him as his hand clamps at the back of my neck.
“Go get changed. I’ll meet you outside.”
I watch him walk away with the rest of the players and cheerleaders. And I stand on the lacrosse field all alone, wondering if I missed my one and only chance at being happy. Is this what it’s going to be forever? Us stuck together and suffering?
“I know this is a risky thing to ask Peach Sanderson-Menacci, but penny for your thoughts?” Ella’s voice rings out beside me as she bumps her shoulder into mine. Everyone’s gone, and it’s just the two of us here.
I want to joke back, but there’s so much truth in her words that it deepens my hurt. That’s what people expect of me, that I’ll snap when they ask what’s going on inside my head.
“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?”
She puts an arm around my shoulders. “Everyone’s an idiot when it comes to love.”
I turn to her, my lower lip trembling. I bite hard on it to make sure my best friend doesn’t notice. “Am I in love with him?”
She laughs softly, her baby-blue eyes lighting up with a mix of amusement and pity. “No one can answer that for you. I can tell you what I think , but I can’t force you to look inside yourself and acknowledge what’s there. That has to come from you, even if it’s a terrifying thing to do.”
My nostrils flare from how much I’m trying to hold back the pain I’m starting to feel.
“He didn’t invite me to the initiations, Did you know?” I tell her.
She shakes her head, waiting for the rest of my explanation.
“That morning, he offered me forever or nothing. He said we were meant for each other and that he wanted me to be his. I refused. And he left me alone. He didn’t invite me; he accepted that my freedom was more important than anything else. He let me go. That’s how much he loves me and knows me. The truth is, he’s my Shadow because I was there, and he didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on me. Not because he wanted to force me.”
I swallow thickly. “And now he feels stuck with me, thinking I’ll never love him the way he loves me.”
“Do you, Peach?” Ella asks in her soft voice. “Do you love him the way he loves you?”
“I–” I lick my lips. “He’s always been there for me. Always put me first.”
“Do you love that he loves you, or do you love him ?”
“I don’t want to lose him,” I insist, a knot tightening my throat. It’s worse than that. It’s a noose around my neck.
“I understand that being vulnerable is hard for you. We all have things that scare us, and opening up is not something you do easily. There is nothing that will make you more vulnerable than loving someone. You at least have the reassurance to know that Wren Hunter would die for your love.”
I nod, but I still can’t seem to calm down. So she pulls the strands of hair I’ve been unconsciously chewing on outside of my mouth and whispers, “Say it. Just try to see how it feels.”
I look at the floor and push past the tightness in my chest. “I love him.”
Ella smiles when I look back at her, and I understand why. She must see it on my face, everything I feel. Lighter. Like the world is suddenly brighter. The pain in my stomach is gone, and my shoulders don’t feel so heavy anymore.
It’s not the fact that I’m in love with him; it’s admitting the truth.
“Oh God,” I groan. “What did you just do to me?” I tell Ella.
“Nothing,” she giggles. “I just guided you through what you already felt. I do expect to be your Maid of Honor at the wedding, though.”
I nod, feeling so many emotions rising up that my head is spinning.
“I think you should go find Wren,” my friend says, letting go of me. “It’s about time you guys get your happily ever after.”
I think I’m going to find Wren in the men’s locker room, or maybe outside the building, but no, he’s in the hallways. He’s down on one knee, a carefree laugh bursting out of him as he plays with an excited dog. And the owner of said dog is no other than Marissa. Where the hell did she hide it when we were talking about the rally girls?
She laughs as the dog tries to lick Wren’s face. Wren calmly orders the dog to sit, and Marissa’s eyes sparkle with excitement.
Oh, please.
“There’s something about a man who’s good with dogs,” she says, smiling down at my boyfriend.
“Why?” I bark as I stop by them. “It reassures you that he can treat a bitch right?”
Her mouth drops open, just as Wren’s eyes come to me. He does that thing where he wipes a hand against his mouth so I can’t see him smile. Too late. Caught him.
“Peach,” he says as he stands up. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not being mean,” I say with fire bursting from my lips, and probably smoke coming out of my ears. “I’m saving her from further disappointment.” I take a step toward Marissa, and she takes one back, the leash forcing her labrador to follow. “He’s not into you. Do you know why? Because he’s in love with me. It’s always been me, and it’ll always be me.”
Marissa looks at Wren, waiting for a denial or approval.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” I snap my fingers, grabbing her attention back. “There are some things that science still struggles to explain to this day. Dark matter, consciousness, the Methane Puzzle.” Her eyes widen, clearly having no idea where I’m getting at. “And Wren’s obsession with me. Today, we’re also adding being unable to explain me being a complete idiot and not realizing that all those years I’ve been in love with my best friend.” I can’t look at him, too scared to see his reaction, but I feel him shift. “So, really, it’s not your fault,” I finally tell her. “You’re into someone who will always choose me. And if you had a chance before, it’s over. Because I now also know I will choose him.”
Her wide eyes go to Wren again, and she huffs. “Wren?”
“Bitch, I just told you you stand no chance. Why are you turning to him and not walking away.”
“Because you can’t make decisions for others,” she snaps back without even looking at me. “So...Wren?”
His eyes are on me when he answers, “It will always be her. Her over anyone else.”
“You two are ridiculous.” She huffs, then she’s walking away, but our eyes are stuck on each other.
I’ve never felt so scared in my life, but the light in Wren’s blue eyes and the pink tint on his cheeks are calming my heartbeat.
“Jealousy is so pretty on you,” he finally says to cut the silence.
“This wasn’t jealousy,” I assure him. “It was me finally being in touch with myself. It was me finally understanding that you didn’t have to stick by me all those years. You chose to. Because you love me. And all that hope you had? It was because your soul knew it was linked to mine. You were just facing a seriously stupid girl.”
He winces, almost like I slapped him. “Don’t call yourself stupid. We all carry pain within us that builds who we are. It just so happened that your pain made you feel like you weren’t worthy of love.”
“I don’t care if I’m worthy of love,” I admit. “As long as I can have yours. Because…” I lick my lips, but this time I’m not so nervous to admit the truth. “I love you, Wren Hunter.”
The smile that spreads on his face is more breathtaking than I’ve ever seen before.
"I think," I add right away, panic suddenly rebounding and coursing through me before I can stop it.
He laughs softly, shaking his head. "You were doing so good."
But he knows that was just my stupid fear of being rejected, because he puts a hand on my waist, one at the back of my head, and pulls me to him.
I go onto my toes and press my lips against his. The softness of our kiss takes me by surprise, but deep down, nothing crazy happens. Because those feelings were there from a long time ago. I'm just finally putting a name on them.
My heartbeat picks up the same way it always has. And my nervous system relaxes because that's the effect he has on me.
This is beautiful…because our relationship has always been one of two people in love.
He pulls away, a small, smug smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "I really do always get what I want."
“Oh, shut up,” I cackle.
"One last thing." His serious gaze sears into mine.
"No drugs, no alcohol. And if you struggle, I will help you. I will always help you in any way you need, but please, no lying."
I nod quickly. "You have my word. I love you." It feels so good to say.
The smile on his face makes my belly tingle. "I don't know how to get used to this," he admits.
I shrug playfully. "Well, do. Because I love you."
"I need to shower. Wait for me. I want to take you home," he says, cupping my cheek before he steps away.
"I can take myself home." I pinch my lips as soon as the words are out. Retorting something the second someone wants to help me is a reflex I can't help. But I want to go home with him; I just need to get used to being honest.
"It's hard, isn't it?" he asks, his hand already holding the door handle to the locker room. "To just let go."
He doesn't expect an answer, walking inside and leaving me alone with my racing heart. He ruined our friendship, and now he's set on ruining me. It’s only now that I realize I’m enjoying every single second of it.
I take my time showering and gathering my stuff before I go wait in front of the men's locker room again. Wren isn't out, so I pull out my phone, sign up for a shift at the shelter and read an email from Professor Lopez asking for another meeting. Apparently, I missed a lot of points in my last edits of the article. From the corner of my eye, I can see players walking out in small groups or alone, but it's never Wren. I catch up on some reading until my neck hurts, and when I look up, he's still not out.
"What the fuck," I mumble to myself. Does he think he can just make me wait here forever for him?
I slap open the door, striding in.
"Wren Hunter," I snap.
"Whoa!" Miles snatches a towel from a nearby bench to cover himself. "Only men in here, Peach."
I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head to the side as my gaze drops to his crotch.
"What are you doing with that towel? From what I just saw, there's not much to hide."
"What, because you think you're so hot?"
I cock an eyebrow at him. "First of all, yes. But also, aren't you the one who just asked me to be your rally girl rather than Wren's? Don't suddenly pretend you're not into me because I hurt your ego."
There's movement behind him, and my mouth drops open when Wren walks out of the showers with nothing but a towel around his waist.
I struggle to swallow, suddenly deciding to look anywhere but at the drops rolling down his perfect abs. The lockers are a deep burgundy, each with a number on top of them and the last name of the player. My eyes automatically go to number seven. Hunter.
I lick my lips as I wonder what Wren looks like when he's standing in front of it, getting ready for a game.
"She's right."
My heart sinks when I barely recognize Wren's voice. It's cold, turning every word into a lifeless expression.
"You wanted her as your rally girl." He keeps going, stopping right beside him.
Wren and I are only separated by a paling Miles now.
"Man, it was a joke." He chuckles. "I was riling her up. Don't take it so seriously."
Wren nods, pretending to agree. "Yeah." His face falls, and his glare could punch a hole through Miles's head. "But shouldn't you know better than to make jokes about my girlfriend?"
"Not your—" I cut myself off when his deadly stare flicks to me. Scratching my throat, I mumble, "Never mind. Old habit."
Miles takes a step back and grabs his clothes from his sport bag, his eyes staying on Wren as he seems to lose composure.
"It was a stupid joke," he admits. "Peach is yours. Everyone knows she's yours. You've spent the last four years drilling it into our brains. Don't worry. We know."
"Good. Penelope baby, come here." He points right in front of him, and I cock an eyebrow.
"Yeah, sure will," I say sarcastically as I take a step away from him, crossing my arms over my chest.
He doesn't move an inch, but his voice is lower when he talks again.
"Don't make me repeat myself." He snaps his fingers, pointing at the exact same point.
He snapped.
His.
Fingers.
Calling me over like some sort of… pet.
He said it before, didn't he? Called me his new pet. And I get it now. Whenever Wren feels control slipping, he'll double the stakes. He'll tighten the leash. Execute when he asks nicely, and it'll go well. Fight back, and he’ll ask for more.
This situation is getting worse before I can even think of taking charge. Because there’s no way Wren Hunter will ever relinquish any control. And especially not in front of someone else.
My gaze darts to Miles, and his wide eyes are on Wren's finger pointing at the floor.
I walk to him slowly, knowing any pushback will only make it worse. Even when I'm standing right in front of him, his finger stays pointing at the ground.
"On your knees, Trouble."
"Don't do this to me," I murmur, my body starting to tremble at the humiliation. I can feel Miles's gaze burning into the side of my face.
"Let go," he replies softly. He puts a strand of hair behind my ear to lessen the blow. "For me."
And that's one way to switch off my brain.
He snaps his fingers again, and it’s the only reminder of my place in this new relationship we're trying to navigate.
I get down on my knees in front of him and look up into his eyes. A god seems like a weak being next to him. We grew up thinking there’s no one above this man, and it's turning into a belief I can't control.
It doesn't matter how hard I fight back. Wren Hunter always gets what he wants. Even if it takes years. Even if it's me.
"Open your mouth and show me your tongue."
I lick my lips, unsure I can handle the surge of desire electrifying my body.
I slowly open my mouth, showing him my tongue.
"Atta girl. Put your hands behind your back."
I try to execute quicker this time, closing my eyes to avoid seeing Miles in my peripheral.
My eyes snap open when I hear the towel drop, and I feel them round. This is the first time in my life I get to see Wren's dick so close. I've felt it inside me and saw it through the mirror yesterday. I know it's not small. But there's a difference between it sliding inside me when I'm wet and desperate and…and having it in my mouth. This is going to destroy me.
The veins throb angrily when he grabs the hard length in a tight grip. His other hand adjusts my hair gently, gathering it in his grip, and then he does that thing where he wraps it twice around his fist. Exactly like he did in that restaurant bathroom, and before I know what's happening, the wave of feelings I had then comes back.
"Spread your legs a little wider. There you go."
It's just a grip on my hair. It barely even hurts. But the effect on me is undeniable. My breathing accelerates as he pulls my head back and taps my tongue with the tip of his dick.
"You stay still and pretty. Don't move, don't pull away, don't suck."
Don't suck? Then what the fuck does he expect from me?
I find out the answer too quickly.
He pushes his dick in my mouth, and I almost pull back, except I can't with his grip on my hair. His girth stretches my lips, and I gag the second he hits the back of my mouth.
"Don't move. Let me set the pace."
I try not to, but when he pushes farther in, my body recoils, and a whimper escapes me. He pulls out, slapping my mouth with his dick.
"Stay still, Penelope. Give our friend a show. I want him to understand this is the one and only dick that will be going down your throat for the rest of your life."
I barely have time to catch my breath before he pushes in again.
"Breathe through your nose. Good girl. There you go."
I'm scared I'll suffocate as he keeps pushing, but he adjusts my head, and my throat somehow opens for him with the new angle.
"Atta girl. Look at you dribbling everywhere. Does my dick taste good on your tongue, Trouble?"
He shifts, and I startle when I feel his ankle between my legs, pressing against the tights I'm wearing under my uniform skirt.
He chuckles. "Try not to rub yourself on me too much."
Behind my back, I grip my right wrist tightly in my left hand, forcing myself not to bring my fingers to my clit. My thoughts feel heavy again, my head floating somewhere in the clouds as he pulls back and pushes back in. The choking, wet sound is almost ridiculous, and I should be humiliated. But somehow, all I feel is a sense of peace, and before I know it, my hips thrust forward, and a zap of electricity travels from my clit and all the way to my nipples.
I moan around his dick, and he accelerates, encouraged by my sound.
"Fuck," he rasps. "Fuck, Peach, had I known your mouth felt so good, I would have stopped giving you a choice years ago."
I can't hold still as he keeps fucking my mouth relentlessly. I'm shamelessly rubbing myself against him, the pressure surrounding me with that strangely peaceful feeling where I lose myself and any sense of reality.
There's no more right or wrong. No more fighting back and no more pride. All that matters is Wren, what he says, and the pleasure it brings me to let him have control over me.
The sudden taste of his cum on my tongue barely brings me back.
He says something, but I only hear the end of the sentence. The order.
"Don't swallow."
Something else. I think he's praising me. Again, my brain chooses to only catch whatever next words are about his control.
"Up. Good girl."
Wait, am I standing up already? Did I listen?
My lips are sealed, his cum on my tongue as he turns me around. I moan a complaint. Fuck. I need to come.
"Shh, stay with me."
He settles behind me, naked, his heat passing through my clothes. With a hand still in my hair, he makes me face Miles.
Miles.
I forgot he was here.
My eyelids feel weighted, and I can barely see straight anymore. I just want to lean back and relax into Wren. I want to hear another order.
I want to please him .
His thumb pulls at my lower lip.
"Open. Show him how beautiful you look with my cum spilling out of your mouth."
I part my lips and let him press his thumb against my tongue to the point that his cum dribbles onto my chin, drops falling onto my shirt.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" I hear Wren, but I can barely keep my eyes open. "Wouldn't you love to have her as your rally girl, Miles?"
I don't see him, but he must nod, because Wren keeps going.
"Hm. But who do you belong to, Peach?"
"You," I rasp.
"Yes, you fucking do. Swallow."
Without the shadow of a second thought, I swallow whatever is left of him on my tongue. He wipes my chin with his thumb, and I lick him over and over again until there's nothing left.
I hear him tell Miles to fuck off, then I hear the door click shut.
"You're very special to me, Trouble."
My eyes open, and Wren is in front of me, holding my head between his palms. Where do these pieces of time go? Everything feels like it's passing by without my knowledge.
"So special." He kisses my forehead, and I sigh as my shoulders relax some more.
I’m in heaven. And the worst thing is, I still haven't come. Since yesterday. In the bathroom.
I barely feel like my soul is back in my body by the time Wren opens the door to his bedroom. He helps me in, sitting me on the bed, and caresses my hair to keep my attention on him.
"I'm going to get you showered, and since I'm sure you want to do some work, you can work from here."
I blink up at him. "Where will you be?"
"I have to be at the temple tonight."
"I want to be with you." The words slip out so naturally, I wonder who of us is the most surprised.
He settles between my legs, kissing the top of my head, my cheek, and then softly caressing my lips with his.
"There’s absolutely nowhere in the world I would rather be than by your side. I'd spend the entire night quietly watching you exist if I could. But I have no choice when it comes to the Circle. I have to be there tonight."
I lie down in bed, refusing to leave that perfect state I've reached. "Then you'll come back here."
"Of course. I'll always come back wherever you are."
I smile to myself. It's true. Wherever I am, Wren always finds his way there.
"Easier to have me here than break into my room at night, isn't it?"
He leans over me, wrapping his hand loosely around my throat, and my body melts from the touch.
"Did you ever see me?"
I take a trembling breath. "You're the one who told me."
He tightens his grip. "That wasn't the question." And he releases, letting a rush come over me.
My eyes flutter shut, and I nod. There's a need inside me that only Wren can satiate.
"Once. I thought it was a dream," I murmur. "At first."
Caressing my pulse with his thumb, he keeps me on the edge of sanity. "What happened when you realized it wasn't?"
He squeezes delicately again, and I gasp when he releases, my back curving as I try to lift off the bed. I want to be closer to him, but he keeps me trapped on the mattress. "Wren…"
"Tell me."
"Nothing," I rasp. "I…I liked it. I felt safe."
Our gazes connect when I open my eyes. The surprise and satisfaction on his face is a sight I wouldn't have wanted to miss. He’s the most handsome man I've ever had the pleasure of looking at. I don't even remember why I refused to see it before. I don't know why I stopped myself from enjoying it when he's always been right here. Waiting for me.
"It’s so precious to see you in subspace. All for me. Your body and mind become so malleable." He takes a deep breath and exhales. "You are entirely mine, Peach." He sounds like he can hardly believe it. "Forever."
I don't know what comes over me, but I nod. Pressing my hips forward, I release a sharp breath.
"Touch me," I say as I wrap my hand around his wrist. "Please, sir, touch me."
He smiles, and by the smugness in it, I know I lost the game. "Absolutely not. This isn't how it works between us anymore. You suffer, and I play."
I feel my blood coloring my cheeks, the heat making me dizzy.
"Oh, you mother?—"
His grip tightens around my throat. "You were doing so good." He chuckles. "I'm not going to touch you now. But if you keep up the good behavior, and if you start begging with a little more enthusiasm, I might change my mind by the time I come back from the temple."
I pout and try a different technique. "But how am I meant to beg if you're not even here to hear it."
He licks his lips, his eyes roaming over my face like he can't get enough of me. "You've got a phone, don't you? Use it. Make up for all those times you ignored my texts."
When he lets me go, I throw a pillow in his face. "Fuck off."
All I achieve is tearing a laugh out of him. Then a weird noise resonates in the room.
"Is that your laugh?" I sit up, and it comes back.
Woof!
Definitely not his laugh.
"Oh. My. God," I coo. "Oh my god, look at you." The tiny, long-haired golden Dachshund yaps as it tries to jump on the bed. "Wren, where did you get him?"
"Found her," he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
I grab her, and she starts climbing me, attempting to lick my face.
"I love her," I say as I look at him. "Does she have a name yet? Are you keeping her?"
"Uh…her name is currently Little Sausage."
I look at him, deadpan. "Original."
"I'm not planning on keeping her," he adds, with no care for the pretty dog whatsoever.
She barks at him in return, and he rolls his eyes. "She's unbearable."
"Yes, so what?" I snap. "Where the hell is your heart? You're just going to abandon her? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I kill people on a regular basis, Peach. I don't know what made you think I have a heart."
I pause and narrow my gaze at him. "Killing people is one thing, but abandoning a dog is seriously fucked up, Wren."
Tilting his head to the side, he observes me playing with her. "You know what. I already have one unbearable woman in my life. I'm not sure another one would be good for my sanity."
"No one cares about your sanity." I scratch Little Sausage's head, and when she licks my face, I laugh so hard, a squeal escapes me.
Wren freezes in front of me. "Did you just…squeal?"
"Oh, shut up, you know it happens sometimes."
Out of nowhere, his strange fascination with me returns. "Yes, I do. Except you haven't in years. The last time was freshman year."
It's my turn to pause, and Sausage jumps off my lap and onto the bed.
"Why do you know the last time I made this horrible noise?"
"Because it was when I gifted you that chocolate coin I had made into a Nobel Prize for Easter."
I can only blink at him until Sausage jumps back on me and nibbles on my arms.
"It could have happened again since."
"Except it hasn't," he retorts right away. "I would know. It's my favorite sound in the world."
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. Any insult, mockery, expression that could show in one way or another that this is weird, and he's too obsessed for our own good.
But I can't.
Because my heart is beating too hard for me to even hear my own thoughts. And suddenly, a cute dog doesn't feel like enough endorphins to match the way Wren makes me feel.
"You're sick," I say in the most loving way I ever have to him. "Your obsession with me. It's…it's sick," I repeat.
He nods, almost proud of himself. "I know. You're an illness inside me, and I never want to be cured."
I'm too speechless to answer. All I've ever wanted in my life was to be loved so strongly I'd finally feel whole. I'd finally stop wondering where I wasn't enough.
Wren doesn't make me feel like I'm enough.
Oh no. It would be too weak of a way to describe how he makes me feel.
A better way to put it would be that I'm so much more than enough, yet he'll never be sated. Like there's nothing I could do or say that would stop him from keeping on exploring every part of my being.
"We'll keep Little Sausage," he finally declares, his eyes going down to his phone. He’s typing something.
And I'm still too shocked to talk, so I nod like an idiot and hug her close to my chest.
He leaves a couple of hours after my shower. He let me work at his desk, among the Scrabble pieces he uses to play against himself and shove down people's throats, and all the books he references for his own essays.
"Make sure you're here when I come back," he says as he drops a kiss at the top of my head.
When I don't look up and don't answer, he wraps a hand around my jaw, forcing me to face him, and presses his mouth to mine.
My body heat rises the second his tongue breaches my lips. I melt into his touch. This effect he has on me is becoming a serious problem.
"No touching yourself, but you can beg prettily. I'll check my phone," he murmurs against my mouth. "And no leaving the house. Understood?"
"Understood," I breathe out.
He's barely gone when a notification pings on my phone. And my heart stops.
Hermes: Did you miss me, little murderer?
My ears are ringing as I open the SFU app. At first, there was a part of me that believed Wren was Hermes, and that once he'd gotten me to the initiations, he would drop this. But then I learned the person who sent me the invite was Monty Hunter. That man certainly isn't running an SFU gossip account that blackmails students. So I'm back to square one, having no idea who’s using Ania as leverage to get what they want out of me.
I don't know when it's going to stop.
And I don't know what their ultimate goal is.
I didn't mention anything to Wren, because why would I want to talk about his ex who was murdered? Especially when I'm being accused of it. Especially when I was with her that night, and that we argued over him. But it's different now. We're together, and I chose that. I agreed there would be no more lies.
Another message appears.
Hermes: Congratulations on becoming a Hera. But you didn't think our little game was over, did you?
"Fuck," I panic, standing up and pacing. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
I'm chewing on my hair before I can control it, and I don't even care. This is bad. Instead of passively waiting for his next message, I send one.
Penelope S.M.: What the hell do you want from me?
Hermes: I want you to see something. Go to the temple tonight. There are rooms underground. Just have a little look for me.
Hermes: And as always. This is our little secret.
Wren's warning comes back. To not leave his house. The one time I didn't plan on disobeying him, I'm not even left with a choice. I'm forced to lie to the man I love so I don't get sent to prison by the person blackmailing me. The situation is completely slipping from my already loose grasp.
Hermes: Did I pique your interest? Or should we talk about those pictures of you and Ania again?