6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
“W hat the hell?” I asked again, but this time in a whisper.
I stood there, in front of Xander, in my wig cap. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, jizz from the corners of my mouth.
His hand flew up to cover his own mouth, his eyes wide with horror. His free hand, that is. My wig still hung from his other clenched fist like a strangled animal.
“My god. Geuls… Geulia… Tuesday,” he rasped, his words muffled by his palm. “I…”
“WHAT?” I demanded.
Though Mom and I only lived with Xander for a couple of months, I’d never, ever seen him anything other than calm, cool, collected. Composed.
But now…
Both of our chests heaved as we competed in what might have been the world’s most bizarre staring contest. Fuck if I’d be the first to blink. I had nothing to be ashamed of here. Well, the whole dribbly-jizz-mouth thing wasn’t my finest moment. But other than that…
He didn’t respond. He looked…dare I say…stunned? As if he’d pulled off my wig and found a foot-long cock had sprouted from the top of my head.
“I just… I just…”
Holy fuck. The unflappable Xander Bennett was stammering.
“I just needed to know,” he finally managed.
At last, I blinked. Quite rapidly. What. The. Fuck.
“You just needed to know what ? That I’m going gray very prematurely?” I demanded.
But he already knew that. Unless he’d forgotten. I’d gotten my first white streak, framing the right side of my face, at fourteen. At first, I thought it looked cool, edgy, and during Xander and Mom’s relationship, I hadn’t yet started hiding it.
“Here,” he said, holding out my wig, which I snatched from him.
He went to shove both his hands in his pockets, his cheeks turning bright pink, when he realized his pants were still around his thighs, his now limp dick lolling there, sad and abandoned, like the only uneaten wiener at the end of a summer barbecue.
“Why would you do that?” I asked as he redressed himself, trying to contain the tremble in my voice. “Why…?”
“Did I hurt you?” Zipping up, he took a step towards me.
I took a step back.
“The way you screamed, it sounded like you were in pain…” His words were quiet, gentle, disconcerting as hell.
“Well, the wig was glued on, you ass.”
“Um…” He pointed to a door, not the door to the reception area, but another door. “My private restroom. Why don’t you go clean up?”
“Yes, why don’t I?” I shot him daggers with my eyes.
Shoulders back, I crossed the room, resisting the temptation to slam the bathroom door so hard it would pop off its hinges.
How fucking dare he. Why did he?
I didn’t need to look at myself in the mirror to know I was a hot mess, but I needed to study my reflection to see if he’d actually ripped skin from my hairline or if it only felt like it. A cursory inspection caused me to sigh, relieved. The edge of my wig cap was torn, but other than that, no real damage had been done.
I combed the wig with my fingers and put it back on, my belly flipping at the fact that I had no way to secure it. I hadn’t even packed shampoo, much less any of my back-up wigs or extra caps or glue.
I sighed.
By the time I turned seventeen, all of my hair had turned snow white. Silver, shimmery strands were woven in, which I actually liked, but I didn’t like the fact that I’d looked older than my own mother, a natural blonde with no grays when she died at forty.
So, I started dying it. But the next day by noon, no matter what color I chose, no matter what brand I used, my hair had faded back to white, as if my hair repelled any other color.
After that, I’d bought my first wig. I could never afford a pricey one that could pass for real hair, only the cheap ones that looked super fake. I didn’t want the wigs to look like I was hiding anything. Make it obvious you have a secret, and it’ll be a race of douches to be the first to expose it.
So, I scrimped and saved, and after every Halloween, when wigs went on clearance, I bought a few. Now I had a small collection in different hues and styles to match my outfits, making it seem like a fashion statement, an intentional choice.
Here in Xander’s bathroom, I also chose to give myself one minute to weep. For my natural raven locks, for my mom, for the life I’d always complained about but now desperately wanted back.
I splashed some water on my face and scrubbed the drying cum from the corners of my lips. My eyes looked bloodshot as hell, but there was nothing I could do about that. With a deep breath, I strode back into Xander’s office.
“You’ve been crying,” he said as if there was a neon sign above my head announcing it.
He came toward me and reached out, like he was going to offer some comfort, a hug, or maybe to brush the tears from the corners of my eyes with the pads of his thumbs. Out of all the sins I’d committed, almost letting him do just that was the one I didn’t think I’d ever forgive myself for.
I stepped back.
“I haven’t been crying,” I lied. “I took a direct hit of sperm to the eye. That should really be a cautionary tale in all sex-ed curriculums.”
“Tuesday, I…” He searched my face with his bright-blue eyes. “I am unspeakably sorry.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want your apologies, Xander. I want an explanation. Why did you want to see what was underneath my wig?”
He remained silent as he blanked his expression.
“Why did my mom want me to go here?” I blurted.
His brows arched.
In the beat of silence that followed, I realized my mistake. Shit .
His eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “You said it was your decision to come to Whispering Ivy.”
Yep, I did say that.
“Ultimately, it was my decision,” I fudged. “But she…supported it. She might’ve suggested it.” To put it mildly. “And other than you, neither of us had— have —a connection to Whispering Ivy, so I suspect you know why I’m here.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he shrugged. “What your mother and I had was brief. Mostly physical. We didn’t really have…deep conversations about the future. Hers, yours, or mine.”
Liar .
The thought came out of nowhere, but I was certain, as certain as my own heart thudding in my chest, that he was lying. But why?
He cleared his throat. “And for the record, pulling off your wig was an accident. In the heat of the moment, at the peak of my passion… It wasn’t intentional. But I do apologize.”
Fucking liar.
I just needed to know, he’d said.
His yanking off my wig was as intentional as it would be if I kneed him in the balls right now.
Also…at the peak of his passion? Who the fuck talked like that?
I turned to leave. “Well, the peak of your passion is leaving a bad taste in my mouth. So, if we’re done with this little tête-à-tête, I’ll just see myself—”
Again, I felt that faint tug, the thickening of the air around us…
“Geulia.”
The edge to his voice stopped me in my tracks. Rooted me to the spot. Froze my arms and legs.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget you ever heard the term Lifewell.”
Basically the same thing Connor had said to me.
“Well, obviously I don’t know what’s good for me,” I said.
“Geulia, this is an order. Do not ever say the term Lifewell again. Do not write it down. Do not think it—”
I turned and stepped toward him, and he inhaled sharply as I cupped the bulge in his pants. “I will suck you off, Dean Bennett. I will ride your face. I will drain this cock with my cunt. But I will not ever, ever take orders from you.”
His jaw twitched, a slight bob of his Adam’s apple, but his cold gaze held firm. “If I get wind that you’ve even muttered the term Lifewell in your sleep, I will expel you. Immediately.”
I shook my head. “You can’t—”
“Oh, darling, don’t you get it? Your tongue is coated with my cum. I can do whatever the fuck I choose.” Something flashed in his eyes, like a bolt of lightning in a midnight sky. “I can and I will. You’re dismissed.”
“Don’t forget my little recording, Xander,” I ground out. “I can ruin you. I can—”
“Yes, the board members you threatened to send the audio of that little stunt to… Tell me, what were their names again?”
He smiled, all teeth and no humor.
Before I could fumble for a response, he said, “Thought so.”
Yeah, I’d been bluffing there. I didn’t know who the hell to send the recording to. A basic Google search hadn’t given me shit about WIC’s board members, but I figured I could still find out somehow, if necessary. The important thing was I had the recording.
“You know the way out.” He sat in the seat behind his desk without looking up.
I shook my head. “One more thing. After what you did to my wig—and after that BJ I just gave you—you owe me. I deserve better than the damn closet you’ve got me in.”
His handsome features distorted into confusion. Was it genuine?
“What are you talking about? The room you’re in is on the small side but perfectly lovely. Besides, not to be crass, but…we both know you’ve lived in worse situations.”
“The fuck I have. I have to crawl in on my hands and knees. It doesn’t even have a bed, Xander.”
His eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared. He opened his mouth and then closed it, his teeth clacking together, jaw clenched.
After a long moment, he said, “Get out and send Connor in—”
“But I don’t even have a bed —”
“And I’m going to take care of it,” he snapped. “But Tuesday? I insist you call me Dean Bennett.”
I shrugged. “Sure. We’ve got to maintain some boundaries, a modicum of decorum and what have you.”
He pointed to the door, his eyes spitting flames. “Send Connor in. And wait in the reception area until I’m done with him.”
Because of what had just gone down between Xander and me in here, I had to ask my next question. How could I not?
“Are you and Connor…” I made a circle with my thumb and index finger and pumped the middle finger of my other hand into it.
Xander grimaced, and my heart fell.
“Please tell me you’re not a homophobe.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Or else I’ll have to scratch sitting on your face right off my to-do list.”
And I’d lose all respect for him, but…telling him that would mean admitting out loud that I had any respect for him in the first place. Was that even true? From the moment Mom introduced me to him, my feelings for Xander—Dean Bennett—had been a tangle of roses and thorns.
He’d captivated me. He’d confused me. I’d hardly been a virgin back then, but this man had been my sexual awakening. And the feelings I’d had for him didn’t stop in my panties.
Xander slowly rose out of his chair, his hands flexed into fists at his sides. “Get out. Take your baseless accusations—all of them—with you. And send Connor in.”
His blue eyes lingered, just for a second, sending cascading shivers down my spine. It was nothing I could explain, just something sharp in his gaze that seemed to pin me in place.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain would ground me as I forced myself to walk out.
The moment I passed over the threshold, I knew. He might’ve admitted me to Whispering Ivy because I’d blackmailed him, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that blackmail wasn’t the only reason.
***
C onnor was nowhere to be found for a good forty-five minutes. Xander made the time easy to track by buzzing Ms. Tissdale every five minutes, like clockwork.
She’d listen on her phone for a moment, then say, “Yes, sir. As soon as he arrives, I’ll send him in.” Or “Not yet, Dean Bennett.”
Under direct orders to wait here, I slouched in the lobby, tapping my fingers on the edge of the chair, trying to tune out Ms. Tissdale’s judgmental, side-eyed glances as she typed, her nose all but twitching with disapproval, like I smelled bad.
What a twat.
My annoyance at having to wait grew by the second. Why couldn’t I just walk myself back to the apartment? What would happen if I just got up and—
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway.
I sat up, as if I had so many important places to be. Which technically I did—classes. I was already a week behind. Yeah, I could handle playing catchup, but Mom and I weren’t— I wasn’t—paying Whispering Ivy the big bucks to warm the chairs in the lobby of the dean’s office.
“Let’s go,” Connor said, appearing in the doorway.
“Actually,” Ms. Tissdale said. “The dean has been waiting on you. He’d like a word.”
Now I got a hefty dose of side-eye from Connor.
I could almost hear him saying, What did you do, street leech?
He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his floppy brown hair. “Thanks, Ms. T.”
Then, without knocking or announcing himself, he went into the dean’s office.
As much as I tried to pretend I didn’t care, I found myself glancing over at the door more than once, itching to know what they were saying.
After about five more minutes of sitting there, I couldn’t help it. I rose quietly and pretended to pace, always lingering just close enough to the door to catch snippets of their voices. Connor’s sounded harsh, the kind of tone that made me picture his jaw clenched tight, lips pressed thin.
I strained to hear, and just when I thought I’d made out the word Lifewell , something shifted in my periphery. I glanced to the side to find Ms. Tissdale standing. She pointed at me then at my now empty chair.
“Kindly sit down,” she said, one eyebrow arched, her voice an exaggerated whisper that cut through the quiet. “Eavesdropping isn’t tolerated here.”
I rolled my eyes but dropped back into the chair, doing my best to look bored and put-upon as I crossed my arms and waited, trying not to fidget since every time I did, I drew a glare. She probably couldn’t wait to report back to Xander, tattling about how I couldn’t even manage to sit quietly for a few minutes, how I didn’t belong here.
Observant little cunt.
Finally, Xander’s office door swung open, and Connor stepped out, his expression pinched like he was fighting off a migraine.
“Come on,” he muttered, barely glancing at me.
He didn’t even give Ms. Tissdale one of his usual flirty lines. His whole demeanor felt off.
We walked back to the apartment in silence, his pace faster than usual, his jaw set in a hard line. I tried not to stare, but I was curious as hell. Whatever conversation he’d had with the dean had shifted something. Changed him. Was it because he didn’t have something in his mouth like a pen or a straw to fixate on?
Probably not.
Back in the apartment, he led me past the hallway and into an unfamiliar part of the place. He opened a door to a small but actual room. A twin bed with a plain headboard sat in the middle, a window with heavy curtains filled one wall, and even a small desk took up one corner. It wasn’t much, but it was light-years better than where they’d stashed me before.
“This is where you’ll be staying now,” Connor said flatly.
I gazed around the room, at its spare but functional layout, trying to keep my expression neutral. “So…what happened? Did this room just magically appear after you talked to Dean Bennett? Or was this where I was supposed to be staying all along?”
I suspected this was the real servant’s quarters, where the dean had always intended for me to live. Why the fuck does a college, even a hoity-toity private one, have servant’s quarters in the apartments? That’s fucked up.
Connor didn’t respond.
I rolled my eyes. “Damn, dude. Why do you hate me so much?”
His full lips twisted, something close to a sneer, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Dare. You’re not worth enough for anyone here to feel anything about you.”
His words shouldn’t have had an impact, but they did. I’d spent my entire life hearing just how unworthy, how worthless I was, at every single school I’d been to, all of which seemed to have a bully quota to fill. But after a while, words lost their sting, then their meaning altogether.
Something about the way Connor said it, though, felt like a serrated knife to my soul.
I kept my face neutral, fighting not to let him see any reaction, even as his words pried open everything I’d been trying to keep locked down. Eighteen years of rage at the world, Mom’s body, cold and still, the helplessness that clawed at me when I thought of it all.
And that word— Lifewell —still buzzed in my mind, more insistent than ever, since both Connor and Xander were so adamant that I not pursue it. If it didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be acting like it did, right?
What was the point of me being here if I couldn’t even say Lifewell out loud? I’d never find out anything. I’d never find out why I was here. Why Mom wanted me here.
Connor turned and stalked out, and I shut the door to my room.
My emotions felt so heavy inside me, like they were suffocating me from the inside out. I needed a release, something to break the tension.
I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, slipping my hand down beneath my waistband, letting the sensation build slowly, taking control of my own body, my own emotions. Bit by bit, I let myself unwind, letting go of the ache for just a little while, just enough to breathe again.
I came once, twice, three times, and finally started feeling like the impossible pressure inside me had eased.
Later, I went to my afternoon classes, then stopped by the offices of the professors of my morning classes to get any assignments I’d missed. I’d probably need a laptop. Maybe I could get an on-campus job to afford one?
I certainly couldn’t flunk out. I had to stay sharp and keep focused. If I was going to figure out what was going on with this place, and what the fucking Lifewell was, I needed to learn as much as I could, to get actual credits I could transfer somewhere else later since I’d only had enough money for one semester.
When I finally made it back to my room, my stomach bottomed out.
“The fuck…?”
The doorframe was empty. No door at all, like someone had removed it to make sure I had zero privacy.
Fuck Connor and the fucking horse he rode in on. This was his work. It had to be.
But before I could storm out and go straight to Xander’s office, I noticed something else. The closet door—still on its hinges—stood slightly ajar. I hadn’t touched it.
Holding my breath, I took one step towards it, and then another. My pulse pounded in my ears. I fully expected someone to jump out at me and make me shit myself.
But when I swung the door open, no one was there. There wouldn’t have been room for anyone to hide anyway because the closet was full.
Full of brand-new clothes, their tags still on, all in my size. Not only that, but at the bottom of the closet sat seven or eight shoeboxes. There were also boxes on a shelf almost too high for me to reach, but these were larger, and I knew before I stood on my tiptoes to pull one down what the contents were.
Wigs.
Holding my breath, I took one out. Long, blonde. Exquisite. Nicer than anything I’d ever owned.
I reached out but didn’t dare touch anything. “The fuck…?”