11. Liv
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LIV
I flee, practically running all the way to my house. I can’t bring myself to return to Grace and her friends’ side. Her posh friends who all welcomed me.
Well, they won’t now.
Because they will hear about this, I have no doubt.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. Not until it was over. I was completely brainwashed, acting like the damn sex doll he constantly accuses me of being.
I hate Callum Noble.
It’s abundantly clear to me that I need to stay far, far away from him. I can’t explain the power he has over me; I doubt anyone else would have been able to make me do this without even considering whether I should.
If I felt weird, I’d suspect I was drugged, but other than completely humiliated, I feel fine. This was all me. Or rather, all him . I don’t think anyone else could have made me do anything like that. What is it with that guy?
He’s hotter than hell and delivers countless orgasms? a voice at the back of my mind suggests.
I tell it to mind its own business and shut the fuck up.
The fancy gallery at the heart of the upper town isn’t far from the campus—a mere twenty minutes’ walk through the park, twice as long going around, and my restless energy demands I keep going, ignoring the line of cabs waiting in the street.
It’s only when I’m in the middle of the park, all alone in the dark, close to midnight, that I pause. I might have been hasty.
There’s something about darkness that makes you feel utterly alone and yet, watched. Followed. Stalked.
We’re in the middle of the summer, and the burst of wind rustling the leaves should have been a relief.
It’s not. I shiver, and at twenty-nine degrees Celsius, it’s certainly not because of being cold.
Worrying my bottom lip with the edge of my teeth, I make my legs move forward, speeding up.
Less than five minutes and I’ll be out of the engulfing darkness.
It’s just the darkness. There’s nothing looking at me from the shadows.
But the sudden, undeniable fear that seizes my insides isn’t the kind I can reason with; it’s an old instinct, written in all of our DNA from the time our ancestors were nothing but prey running from apex predators.
It’s hard to tell myself I’m at the top of the food chain right now. I’m a hundred and twenty pounds, and while I’m athletic, I have never taken any sort of self-defense training. An oversight I will remedy, stat .
If I live the night.
I have no reason to pretend anymore; I let my fear push me from a brisk jog to a sprint for the last few meters until I reach the metal barrier and line of streetlamps indicating my return to civilization.
I didn’t run for long, but I’m so out of breath I stop and bend forward, inhaling deeply.
This side, although there aren’t many people in the street, I feel considerably safer.
And stupid. I also feel so stupid.
Why didn’t I just grab my phone? The camera has a flash. I could have used that as a light, if my brain hadn’t been short-circuited, first by cocks, then by primal fear.
I make a mental note to avoid the park at night in the future.
Straightening up, I chance one last look over my shoulder, expecting it to look less daunting now that I’m on the other side.
It doesn’t. The watchful darkness still has me repressing shivers in the southern European summer.
I need to go home.
I can’t quite recall how or when I do make my way back to my dorms, but the next thing I know, I wake up, groggy, achy, as though I’d been partying all night.
I’m not one to linger in bed, but I do today. Not even my bladder can convince me it’s time to get to my feet.
I let myself crash again, waking much later in the day. This time, I have no choice but to run to the bathroom and pee.
My entire face flushes, remembering the last decision that pressing need forced me to make. The men’s bathroom.
What was I thinking?
I upgraded to a private dorm room, although they’re usually reserved for juniors and seniors; for three thousand per year, I can have my privacy and my own bathroom, such as it is.
It’s not bad really; the room itself is spacious and the boiler doesn’t run out of warm water until around seven thirty. My father’s apartment was certainly worse. It is pretty depressing that I don’t really have a home except for this place, but it’s really not that bad.
I spend my Sunday trying to focus on work, but replaying yesterday in a loop whenever I don’t catch myself. It takes me five hours to assimilate the text I’m trying to read instead of two.
My phone taunts me, tempting me into sending him a scathing text. Somehow, it would feel like accepting defeat though. Better that I leave him alone. Pretend I’m unaffected.
But the bottom line is, yesterday, I had sex in front of over a dozen strangers. Maybe they even took pictures. I didn’t see anyone do it, but the possibility is terrifying. Did they post them online?Will they?
The good news is, I’d never met any of those people other than Callum until then; the likelihood that I’d just bump into them now seems low.
I decide right there and then that I’m never allowed to spend any amount of time alone with Callum Noble ever again. The next time I see him, I’m running in the other direction—although that reduces me to the prey he accused me of being all those weeks ago.
And here I’m doing it again: thinking about him rather than my Lit assignment.
I sigh deeply, and force myself to breathe.
It’s not that bad. It’s not . Because I have a fat amount of money in my account, and nothing holding me here. If yesterday’s mess has destroyed my life, I can always pack up and leave. It would be a shame, when I just got to know Grace, but we can always chat online.
And you’d waste all the money you’ve spent on school this year.
Ugh!
Callum Noble is the literal fucking worst.