Chapter 7 #3
I tell him about my weird fish sandwich dream on our way back to my building, and then he walks me to the door before leaving for the gym.
I shower quickly, dress, and then head to history class.
This time, I don't fall asleep. My heart thuds against my ribcage; all I can think about is going to psychology and facing Miles after Dax and Elias confronted him the other day.
They're so sure it's him, but I still don't want to believe it.
Elias leans against the wall outside the lecture hall, just as he did on Monday. As if sensing me, he looks up from his phone.
"Hey."
I feign annoyance that usually comes naturally, but doesn't this time—probably because of everything he told me last night.
And because I want him next to me. I don't want to sit in front of Miles alone.
"Hi," I say before turning the corner.
When I find a seat near the back with Elias beside me, Professor Whitman is already at the front of the room, talking with Miles at the desk.
I get out my laptop, but this time, I don't hide.
I study his face, his mannerisms. I decide I'll watch him like Elias did—just to see if he's watching me, too.
"Saige," Elias says, nudging me. "Check your essay grade."
"They're up already?"
He doesn't answer, but I log in and go to my graded assignments. There's a dash where there should be a number, and my overall grade dropped from an A to a B.
I whip my head toward Elias.
"You got a zero, didn't you?" he says. "I told you, Saige. The good news is he can't flunk us at this point. We only have the final left."
"No, that's…that's not good news. I have to talk to her," I tell him. "I wanted to major in psychology, and you have to pass this class with a B or better to declare."
Elias makes a face. "You want to major in psychology?"
I roll my eyes. "Please. I could write a fucking dissertation on you, alone."
I cringe after I say it. I didn't think about what he told me last night—it just came out.
"Yeah, well, what does that say about you? Weren't you the one dry humping your stepbrother on the couch last night? Tell your future patients about that."
"It wasn't that dry," I mutter.
Elias laughs and then throws his arm around my shoulders. He leans in, kissing the side of my head, and says, "No, it really wasn't, was it?"
"Don't do that," I say, shoving him away. "Don't kiss…"
But I don't finish the sentence, because as soon as Elias started laughing, Miles zeroed in on us, his eyes full of rage. It's like he thinks he's laughing at him, and he probably does—because that's what small men fear the most, and despite his stature, Miles is a very small man.
Professor Whitman approaches the podium and starts class.
"We're going to have to kill him, aren't we?"
"Yeah, probably."
"I really don't want to."
"You already did it once; I'd think it would be easier this time around."
"It isn't."
"I mean, unless we can prove he killed his fiancé—"
"Do that, then."
"I would if I could. There's no body, Saige. They don't even think she's dead," he says. "We'll make it look like an accident."
"How?"
"I'm not sure yet, but we're working on it. It'll have to be soon. It's him or us."
"You really think he'll come after me again?"
"Yes."
"Then what if we set him up?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if I were bait? If we caught him, he'd go to jail, right?"
"No. He'd still tell them what we did to him."
"But there's no evidence, and it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? We'll tell them he lost his fucking mind, and that he's so obsessed with me, he made it up. Then, they'll start thinking, Maybe this violent nut job killed his fiancé after all."
"Saige, no."
"What? It's smart—you know it is." And Dax said I was the weak link on this team—maybe I'm not the hero I wanted to be, but I'm the brains of this fucking operation.
"No," he whispers harshly in my ear. "Over my dead fucking body. Shut it the fuck down, Saige."
We don't speak for the rest of the class, but I don't shut it down. Afterward, Elias walks me back to my room against my will, and we argue the entire way.
I'm so distracted by the arguing that I don't even realize he's followed me into the building.
"No, I won't promise you anything because it's still a good fucking plan," I snap.
"I don't give a shit if you think it's a good plan. You aren't exactly known for your good plans."
"Well, you aren't exactly known for successfully making bodies—"
"Hey, guys," Kira says. She must be on her way back from the showers—her hair is wet, and she's naked, aside from the towel barely covering her body.
"Oh, hi…"
Now, I realize my litany of mistakes. Not only has Elias followed me inside, we're arguing about things we shouldn't even be discussing in public, and I brought him right to Kira, who has a weird crush on some nonexistent hero version of him, and she's practically naked.
"So, what's Elias known for making bodies do?" she asks.
"Um, did I say that? I don't think I—"
"I can make them do just about anything I want," Elias tells her.
Kira looks him up and down in a way that makes my stomach churn. It almost feels like…I'm jealous. Again.
"I bet you can," she says. "I heard you made the hockey team."
"Yeah, you should come to the game tomorrow with Saige."
"What?" I make a face. "I'm not going to that."
"I'll be there. I'd love to see West Pine Batman in action."
"He's not even playing," I tell her. "There won't be any action."
"Hmm, you sure? I bet he could get as much action as he wants," she says, looking over my shoulder at Elias.
I don't miss the insinuation, and I don't fucking like it.
"Anyway, I'd better put some clothes on.
It's good to see you, though, Elias—I feel safer knowing you're around. Talk to you later, Saige."
As soon as the door closes behind her, I take off down the hall toward my room.
"You can leave now," I sneer over my shoulder.
His laughter booms throughout the hallway.
"What's so fucking funny?"
I take out my keys, but my hands are shaking so much, I can't get it into the lock.
Elias rips them out of my hand, easily unlocking the door and pushing it open. "You are, you tiny maniac."
I glare at him as I pull the key from the lock, and then step inside, attempting to slam the door in his face. It bounces off his foot, and he laughs again.
"Get out!"
"No," he says. "We're not done with our fucking conversation, Saige. And I'm not going to fuck your friend, so stop fucking pouting."
"What are you talking about?! I don't care who you sleep with, and I'm not pouting. I'm pissed because I came up with a good plan, and you're shitting all over it. And you know what? If I want to do it, you can't really stop me."
"Careful," he says, taking a few steps toward me. "Talking like that is a good way to find yourself tied to my fucking bed until I take care of this problem of ours. And trust me, if I had you tied to my bed, I'd take my fucking time."
I scoff. "Whatever."
"You really think Dax would try to stop me if he heard you talking like that? And I know Nolan likes you tied up, so…why are you looking at my dick, Saige?"
"What? I'm not." My cheeks burn; I didn't look…and if I did, it was only for a second.
"Yeah, you were. Are you wondering if this conversation is making me hard?
If you're so curious, why don't you come and find out for yourself?
I'll even let you get down on your knees to get a really good look, if you want.
It has to be getting difficult to pretend you don't want it—you let me come down your throat last night, and you were so upset that your friend wants to fuck me that you were practically shaking. "
"No, I wasn't! And not everyone wants to fuck you, Elias."
He laughs again, and tears sting my eyes.
"Not everyone, no…but Kira does. She's been trying ever since you got hurt, you know.
She came over a few nights with food and drinks, wearing these slutty little outfits.
She said it was just to check on me—to make sure I was doing okay.
She gave me her number and told me to call her if I needed anything…
emphasis on the anything, Saige. And she's not the only one, either. "
"God, leave me alone! Get out of my room!" But when I shout, I lose the battle with my watery eyes and send two thick tears rolling down each of my cheeks. I quickly look away, but I'm too late. Elias grabs my chin and turns me around, his body just barely not touching mine.
"Why are you crying, baby?" His hand drops to my neck, wrapping around my throat, but he doesn't squeeze.
"I told you, you're the only one who gets my cock.
You're the only thing that makes me come.
Do you want me to go tell her that? That all my cum is for my little sister?
" His free hand closes around my wrist and guides it to the bulge in his pants.
"And for the record, this is making me hard. "
I tear my hand away, but when I try to backpedal, he tightens his grip on my throat.
Waves of brown hair stick to my wet cheeks, and he smooths it away before wiping another tear from beneath my eye and bringing it to his lips.
"You want to tell me how much you want me to get out of your room again, Saige, hmm?
Or do you want to be honest about how needy you are for my dick and let me give you what you want? "
He pauses, waiting for my response, but I don't give him one.
"Not ready to admit it yet, are you?" he asks, his tone softening.
"That's okay—I can tell you're embarrassed.
I'm still going to give it to you." He pauses, fumbling with the fly of his jeans, working them down his hips until his dick springs free, and then he pumps it between us, the tip pushing against my stomach.
"You're still getting fucked. Take off your pants, Saige. "
I should tell him to go, but I don't. Hands trembling, I unbutton my wide-legged jeans, letting them fall to the ground.