Chapter Ten
Troian
I'm not really surprised to find Gage waiting on my front porch bright and early. I think I knew he'd be out here before I even left the bed. It's probably why I've felt like a whole swarm of butterflies has been dancing in my stomach all morning.
"Morning, butterfly." He pushes away from the column, stepping toward me.
My heart turns a flip when he leans forward, brushing his lips across my cheek.
Part of me wants to jump up and down and squeal.
Part of me feels like I'm floating. But another part—a small part I wish didn't exist—keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell me that he's just playing or that this is just a joke.
He doesn't tell me that. Instead, he steals my books from me, gracefully sliding them from my arms to his like he's done it a thousand times before.
"Gage," I protest softly.
"I know." He grins at me, boyish and sweet.
"You don't like to feel helpless, but I'm not carrying them because you're helpless, Troian.
You've never been that. You're the strongest person I know.
I'm carrying them because if I don't, I can't promise my hands won't find more interesting things to touch. "
My cheeks go scarlet. He notices, and a wicked chuckle rumbles from his lips, hitting me low in the belly.
"You hate being the center of attention. Since the movie starts filming soon and there have been paparazzi coming around for photos, I figured you probably wouldn't want pictures of us doing what we did yesterday plastered all over the fucking internet."
"Definitely not," I squeak, casting a furtive glance around. But if there are paparazzi out here, they're not anywhere I can see.
I let myself relax slightly.
At least until we make it to the truck and he runs his hand down my side as I'm climbing in.
I practically fall into the seat, all graceless and awkward.
He just chuckles in response, his eyes shining brilliant blue, and deposits my books at my feet before closing my door. I sink back into the seat, trying to get my mind and heart under control as he circles around, but it's a losing battle.
Ever since our talk yesterday, I've been a whirlwind of thought and hope, trying to talk myself out of expecting anything, all while expecting everything at the same time.
I don't know what we are right now. I don't know what's happening between us. I just know that it's different. It's new and different and feels dangerously close to being what I've always wanted.
I'm a little afraid of it and not nearly afraid enough at the same time.
We don't say much on the way to school, but halfway there, he reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. I glance over at him to find a tiny smile on his lips. It makes my heart race even harder.
By the time we pull into the parking lot, all the happiness has turned into a knot in my stomach, though.
I'm not looking forward to whatever fresh hell Victoria has planned for me today.
With her, it's always something, and it's always worse whenever Gage shuts her down or stands up for me.
I'm sure today will be awful, and then he'll probably follow through on his promise to tell everyone what she did.
As much as I dislike her, I don't want to see her whole future ruined because she's a bitch. She could be expelled for what she did or face jail time. I don't want to be the reason Gage spills her dirty secret and her life falls apart before she's even eighteen.
"You're thinking loud, butterfly," he murmurs, killing the ignition.
"Maybe we should skip today."
"Why?"
I shrug instead of answering. I'm not a very good liar. Shrugging is safer.
"You worried about Victoria, baby?"
"Maybe." I lick my lips. "If I'm not here today, she can't bother me, and then you don't have to follow through on your promise to ruin her life."
"Look at me, Troian." He curves his hand around my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Everything is going to be fine. You and I are going to walk into that school, and Victoria won't say a single word to you. Do you trust me?"
"That's not the problem, Gage. It's her I don't trust." Not even to save herself, apparently, because I know Gage, and I know he meant it yesterday. If she bothers me again, he will follow through.
"Then trust me." He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. "Otherwise, I'm going to have to distract you right here in the truck. You can't worry and stress if you're coming all over my fingers again."
I whimper embarrassingly loud, suddenly thinking about other things—things Victoria has nothing to do with.
Gage chuckles in response. "I'll make you a deal. If you get out of this truck right now, we'll have lunch in the library again today. I'll make you come all over me before the bell rings."
"What if we get caught?"
"In the four years you've been hiding out in that alcove, has the librarian ever once come back there to check on you?"
"She might."
He quirks a brow at me.
"Fine. No."
"Then we won't get caught." The tip of his thumb dips between my lips. I'm not sure why I do it, but I rake my teeth across it, biting down.
He growls, a feral sound I've never heard, his eyes darkening. "Get out of the truck, Troian. Before we give the whole fucking world something to talk about."
I don't climb gracefully from the truck. I throw myself out like salvation waits outside the door. His soft laugh follows me.
God. This day is going to be hell. But I'm suddenly a whole lot less worried about Victoria than I am about surviving until lunch.
To my utter shock, Victoria doesn't even look in my direction when we pass her. She pretends I don't exist at all. So do her friends. It's almost more uncomfortable than being their constant target.
"Told you," Gage murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "She's done tormenting you, butterfly."
I'm not convinced but…I can live with her ignoring me.
I'm not sure how I feel about everyone staring at me and Gage, though. As we pass by with his arm around my waist, literally everyone stops to stare. It makes my stomach churn, both because I'm not accustomed to the attention and because I'm unsure of our current status.
We're not dating, but we're not really just friends, either. We're…something else. Something that has no name. It's new and terrifying and beautiful and exhilarating all at once.
Unlike yesterday, I don't sit at the back of the class today. I take my usual seat, which Gage immediately drags a whole foot closer to his with a grin on his lips.
I just roll my eyes at him, fighting a smile.
This is so much better than yesterday.
I spend the first half of class daydreaming.
"Troian."
I jerk when Mr. Blake says my name, blinking wide eyes at him. And then I frown when I realize he isn't speaking to me. He's pointing the way toward me.
A ripple goes through the class as Mrs. Alexander, the secretary, starts in my direction, a bright smile on her face, and a massive bouquet in her arms. The thing is so big she can barely fit her arms around it.
"Lucky girl," she says, smiling gently as she holds it out to me.
My cheeks blaze with heat as I take the bouquet from her, the scent of roses and freesia swirling around me. The flowers are stunning, a riot of white and red and pink and yellow.
There's a card tucked between the bulbs.
I reach for it with shaking fingers while Mr. Blake tries to get the class back on task. Half of them are still watching me, though, curiosity in their gazes.
Gage is staring at me. I feel the heat of his gaze boring into me.
I open the little envelope, slipping the card out.
Troian,
I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
I love you,
Gage
My hands are shaking when I look over at him, but he just smiles at me as if he didn't just ruin me with a Yeats poem and three little words.
By the time lunch rolls around, I'm a mess. I've been thinking about him and his poem and his confession all day. They're all I've thought about.
I practically run to the library, desperate to see him, to touch him.
He's already there when I arrive, leaning in the corner of the alcove with a smirk on his handsome face.
I walk right up to him.
"You sent me flowers." I've said it at least five times already today, but I can't stop myself. No one ever sends me flowers.
"You liked them?" he asks, his grin boyish.
I throw my arms around him in response, squeezing.
He chuckles, wrapping me up in a hug that makes my heart sing.
"You cheated," I murmur, tipping my head back to look at him. "You used Yeats."
"He's your favorite."
I love him for knowing that.
He curves his hand around my jaw, his expression serious. "I meant it, you know. My dreams are spread beneath your feet, butterfly. They're all I have to give you right now, but they're yours."
I lean up on my tiptoes, crushing my lips to his.
He groans softly, spinning us until I'm pressed into the corner, his body pinning me gently. His lips are a contradiction against mine, soft even though he kisses me hard. Even though he kisses me perfectly.
"Christ, baby," he rasps against my lips. "I've been hard all goddamn day, thinking about this mouth and this body and the way you shattered for me yesterday." His hands drift down my sides. "You going to let me do it again?"
I don't trust my voice, so I nod, praying he's right and today is not the day Ms. Lena decides to check on me.
Gage's hands are fire on my body as he crowds me deeper into the corner, slipping them beneath the hem of my shirt. His breath is a rough rasp in my ear, his eyes locked on my face.
"You're beautiful like this," he whispers. "You look so alive right now."
I just whimper in response, lost to the electric glide of his palm against my abdomen. It feels like little fires trapped beneath my skin, searing and singeing and heating me from the inside out.
"You know how many times I've thought about you like this?" he asks, sliding one hand toward my breasts and the other toward my waistband. "How many times I've imagined what it'd be like to be the one to touch you like this?"
"Gage," I whisper, my knees trembling dangerously.
"Every day, Troian. I think about it every day." He leans forward, nipping my bottom lip. "You're the only thing I ever think about."
"M-me too."
He groans softly, as if he loves knowing that. And then his hand is in my pants, and rational thought skitters away. My panties inch down beneath his fingers, and I have to bite my tongue to fight a loud moan, trying not to get us caught.
"You're already so wet," he whispers, like he's fascinated by my arousal…by what he's done to me. I'm not, though. This is my almost permanent state of existence around him. He touches my hand or my cheek or just grins at me, and my whole body goes electric.
It's a forest fire right now, every part of it going up in flames as he pinches my nipple through my bra and rubs circles around my clit at the same time. I bite the inside of my cheek, desperately trying to stay quiet.
I almost lose the battle when he slips lower, slowly sinking one finger inside me.
"God, baby," he rasps, resting his forehead against mine. "You're so damn tight. I feel you squeezing the fuck out of my finger."
"Gage," I whimper. "Please."
"What is it? What do you need?" He circles my clit with his thumb again, working his finger in and out of me at the same time. "Is this what you need, butterfly?"
"Yes," I choke, burying my face in his throat to hide my moans. They still bleed out, far too loud in the silence of the library. But I'm too far gone to care, already dancing on the edge of an orgasm.
"Don't hide from me, Troian," he whispers. "Let me see you when you fall apart."
I can't. I know I can't.
But I do.
I pull back, meeting his gaze, letting him see what he's doing to me. What he's reduced me to—just an aching, desperate ball of pleasure and sensation.
"Beautiful," he growls, his blue eyes as dark as midnight. "You're so fucking beautiful, butterfly."
I come unraveled with his name on my lips, choking on it. Waves wrack my body, sending me spiraling higher than I've ever been able to take myself.
My knees give out, and I slump against him, my heart a wild thing in my ears. He catches me, holding me up against his chest, one hand still in my pants, working out every last tremor.
When I'm too wrecked and sensitive for him to keep going, he pulls his hand out of my pants, holding my gaze. I think I come again when he pops his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean while staring at me the whole time.
"Delicious," he whispers.
My knees really do quit working this time.
I sink slowly to the floor, ruined.
It's the best feeling in the world.