Chapter 19
WEST
I’m not sure how I feel as I leave my room just before eight o’clock on Friday night and head down the hall to meet up with Anthony so we can work on our project.
I’ve been feeling out of sorts since I woke up, but that’s not unexpected considering everything that’s happened in the past few days.
Not only did I break up with my fiancée, I spent the last two days hiding in my room to avoid the gossip and rumors, and I angry-texted Mr. X last night, knowing exactly what would happen after I mouthed off to him like I did.
The only good thing about last night is that I actually slept pretty well, and I didn’t need to take anything to help me fall asleep. That was probably because of the mind-blowing sex, but at least I felt mostly human when I woke up this morning.
My neck flushes as memories of what happened last night flash in my mind. The fact that he can sneak into my room should terrify me, but for some fucked-up reason, I like it.
I already knew I had a thing for masks and not being able to see Mr. X's face, but now I also know that skeleton masks are just as hot as plain black ones, and I like being tied up.
My wrists tingle as more memories flood my system, and I slow my pace so I can get a hold of myself before I reach Anthony’s door.
I’ve always considered myself pretty vanilla, but that’s more because of a lack of opportunity and not a lack of interest. I don’t have a list of kinks I want to try or anything like that.
I’ve seen lots of stuff in porn and movies that looks like it could be fun, but I’ve never felt the need to try them in real life.
The few times I’ve tried things outside of my usual comfort zone have been at the request of my partners, but even with my lack of experimenting, I’ve never felt like there was anything missing from my sex life.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I always felt like there was something missing, but that had nothing to do with my female partners and everything to do with my lack of experience with men. But now that I have a sex life outside of women, I’m learning more about myself than I ever thought possible.
My first instinct when he pulled the restraints out of his pocket last night was to balk.
I don’t even like wearing turtlenecks or ties because they feel restrictive, and my nanny used to have to regularly check my seatbelt during car rides because I’d always put the strap behind me because I don’t like feeling it across my chest.
Then he told me to put my arms out, and instead of saying no or just not moving, I did it because I wanted to be good for him.
The restraint itself was crude and industrial and intimidating as fuck, but I’m sure that was a big part of the appeal for him.
I probably wouldn’t have hesitated if he’d pulled out a pair of handcuffs or Velcro hand ties or even some rope because those are at least familiar, but that isn’t his style, and the thick, unforgiving straps were actually pretty damn hot once they were on.
Maybe it’s because they were around my wrists and not my throat or my chest, but I didn’t feel trapped in them. I felt restricted and vulnerable and helpless, but in the best way possible.
It’s hard to explain, but having my hands bound made it easier to let go. It helped turn off some of the noise in my head, but it was also a physical reminder of who was in charge, and it sure as fuck wasn’t me.
He had all the power, and I could just exist and feel and be in the moment instead of getting stuck in my head and obsessing over every little moment of my very willing submission to him.
“Hey,” a voice calls, breaking me free from my thoughts. “West!”
I pause, my defenses instantly going up. I was hoping to get to Anthony’s room without getting sidelined by anyone, but that was obviously wishful thinking.
There’s a reason I’ve ignored everyone except Damon and Mr. X for the past few days, and I’m really not in the mood to break that streak now, but I can’t exactly pretend like I didn’t hear him. And it would look pretty sus if I sprinted the last dozen or so feet to Ant’s door to try and escape.
“Hey, Derek,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, as he hurries to catch up with me.
Derek is a third-year like me, and we have mutual friends, but we’re not really friends. The only reasons he’d stop me in the hall like this are if he has frat business to tell me, or if he wants to know about my business.
“Hey,” he repeats as he comes up to me. “So, I heard about you and McKenna.”
I shoot him a tight smile. “Pretty sure everyone’s heard about that.”
“Yeah, they probably have,” he says awkwardly. “And there’s so many rumors going around, so it’s hard to know what’s true, you know?”
I’m hit with the ridiculous urge to kick him in the shins and run away like a toddler, but I resist. I really don’t need to add rumors about me being completely unstable to the ones already floating around.
“Yeah, you know what they say, there are always three sides to any story. Hers, mine, and the truth.” I have no idea if that even makes sense, but it’s all I can think to say that won’t open the door for more questions.
“So true.” He nods and rocks awkwardly on his feet. “So I guess things are over, over?”
“As opposed to them being over, but not over?” I ask, some of my exasperation slipping into my tone.
He has the decency to look uncomfortable as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “That didn’t come out right. I was just asking if things are over, or if you might get back together.”
“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” I say dryly, and I have a feeling that my face is impersonating the unimpressed emoji with the flat lines for its eyes and mouth. “But things are over, over, hence the broken engagement.”
He nods, his eyes darting around the hall and looking at everything except me. “Cool,” he says. “Cool, cool, cool.”
The cadence of his words reminds me of a meme or a scene in a show that I can’t place, and I can tell he’s trying to find a way to ask another invasive question.
I wait a full and very awkward thirty seconds, then my impulses get the better of me, and instead of walking away, I give him a big, cheesy grin.
“So, are you asking because you want some gossip?” I ask cheerfully. “Or because you want to know if it’s okay to move in on my ex-fiancée?”
His eyes widen, and his mouth actually drops like it’s been unhinged.
I laugh at his gobsmacked expression.
“Really, Derek?” a familiar voice asks from behind me.
I manage not to whip around like an overeager freak and glance over my shoulder at Anthony like a normal person as he comes up to where we’re standing.
Jesus fuck, he looks good. It’s seriously criminal how hot he is, and him in a tank top is definitely my kryptonite.
“It’s been two days, and you’re already angling to be the rebound guy?” Anthony continues, somehow sounding both unimpressed and judgmental at the same time.
“I’m not!” Derek says quickly.
“Well, if you’re not being a creep and forgetting that trying to fuck your frat brother’s ex days after they break up makes you a shitty person, then you’re asking for other reasons you probably shouldn’t.
” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I have to tear my eyes away from his thick muscles and hypnotic tattoo.
“Like maybe you’re going to the source to up your odds in the betting pool and people putting money on whether they’ll get back together. ”
Derek’s face goes red, and he cuts his gaze to the floor.
“People are betting on whether we’ll get back together?” I ask, anger replacing some of my earlier indifference.
This kind of thing isn’t new, and there’s always some sort of betting pool going on in the house at any given time, but they’re usually about stupid, trivial things like which team is going to win a school game or if a certain professor is going to grade on a curve or not.
It doesn’t feel great that my frat brothers are using my breakup to fuel their gambling addictions like it’s some sort of joke.
Derek mumbles something I can’t make out and stares at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating things he’s ever seen.
“Wow, that’s really fucked up.” I say, not bothering to keep my voice down. “It’s sooooo amazing to know that you all have my back while I’m going through something as devastating as my engagement breaking up.”
“It’s not like that,” Derek mumbles, still staring at his shoes like a kid in time out.
“You sure? Because it sounds like it’s exactly like that.” I don’t care how insane I seem or how loud I’m being. I probably will later because this will just end up as another gossip talking point for everyone, but right now, I don’t give a fuck what Derek or anyone else thinks of me.
“Nothing to say?” I ask, still sounding half hysterical. “You were full of questions when you thought it would help you make some money and give you an edge over everyone.”
Derek looks like he’s hoping the floor will open up and swallow him whole, and I don’t miss how he’s slowly inching away from me, but now that I’ve started, I’m having a hard time shutting the fuck up.
“Here’s some insider info for you,” I continue. “No, we’re not getting back together. Yes, it’s over, over, and no, she didn’t have any complaints while we were together.”
Anthony shifts so he’s standing next to me, and for some dumb reason, the gentle brush of his arm against mine helps calm some of my anger.
“You have until tomorrow morning to shut down all the betting pools,” Anthony says to Derek.
He isn’t raising his voice or even speaking with any sort of inflection, but the threat is there. He isn’t fucking around, and Derek looks absolutely terrified.
Anthony has a reputation as a levelheaded and chill guy, and it’s rare for him to go off on people or get into fights, but he’s also known for being ruthless when people piss him off or cross him.