Chapter 44 #2
Archer narrows his eyes slightly. “What part of it exactly?”
Rafe gestures vaguely between the three of us again. “This. Whatever this is. It won’t work.”
Liv opens her mouth like she wants to respond, but Rafe keeps going.
“You guys are playing some romantic group experiment while pretending it’s all normal. It’s not normal. It’s messy. And someone’s gonna get hurt.”
I sit up straighter. “You don’t know that.”
“I know people,” Rafe says. “And I know what this looks like.”
Morella huffs. “No, you know what you look like when you’re scared of feelings.”
Rafe turns his glare on her. “Spare me the therapy.”
She doesn’t back down. “Don’t knock it. You clearly need some.”
Rafe rolls his eyes and turns away, muttering something under his breath. I don’t catch it, but the way his shoulders tense tells me he’s pissed. He stalks off before anyone else can get a word in.
Morella sighs dramatically. “God, he’s exhausting.”
Liv watches him go, the crease between her brows deepening.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Archer says softly. “He’s just... Rafe.”
“Rafe with feelings is like a toddler with scissors,” I mutter. “He usually ends up destroying things.”
That finally earns a tiny smile from Liv, but I can still feel the way her hand grips mine a little too tightly.
Chemistry should be boring. But with Liv in the room, nothing ever really is.
She’s sitting two tables down, partnered with Trent, her chin resting on one hand, the other twirling her pen like she’s trying to hypnotize herself out of existing.
Her skirt’s riding a little higher than usual.
Stockings up to her thighs. And Trent, he’s completely oblivious.
He says something about valence electrons. She smiles politely, nods. Her fingers tap against the lab table like she’s counting down the seconds until she can escape.
And all I can think about is how my mouth was on hers this morning. The way she leaned into me at break. Like she wanted all of it. Me. Archer. Whatever this is turning into. I sit back, arms crossed, legs stretched out under my desk, watching her like a guy who already knows he’s won.
Because I have.
She leans in to say something to Trent, and I catch a flash of her throat when she laughs.
Not her real laugh. That one’s still tucked away for the people she lets in.
But it’s enough to make my fingers twitch on the edge of the desk.
Liv stands and talks to Ms. Braun for a moment, then disappears out the door.
I let a minute pass then I get up, slow and casual. I toss a paper scrap in the bin like I’ve got a reason to move, and before Braun can even ask where I’m headed, I’m already out the door.
The hallway’s quiet and empty enough that my footsteps echo. I lean against the wall near the girls’ bathroom and wait. The door creaks open and she steps out, startled when she sees me there.
“Silas?” Her brows pull together. “What are you—?”
I don’t give her time to finish. I take her hand and tug her down the hall. She doesn’t resist, but I can feel the confusion in her steps.
“Where are we going?” she whispers.
I push open the door to an unused classroom at the end of the hall and pull her inside. The room smells like dust and old carpet. The blinds are half-drawn, casting slices of sunlight across the floor. Long-abandoned desks sit crookedly in rows.
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What are you doing?”
I shut the door behind us and let it click into place. Then I turn to face her, and my heart kicks up hard in my chest. She's standing there in that skirt. Stockings hugging her thighs. Hair slightly messy from the breeze outside.
I walk toward her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” I say.
Her brows crease. “About what?”
“You with Archer.”
She blinks. “Are you upset?”
“No.” I shake my head once. “Not even close.”
She looks more confused now than before.
“I loved it.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak.
“I love watching you,” I murmur, voice low. “Especially when you think no one’s paying attention. Especially with him.”
A flush spreads across her cheeks. Her fingers tighten on the hem of her skirt, tugging it down slightly even though it’s already perfectly in place.
“You’ve got no idea what that does to me,” I add, stepping closer. “Seeing you like that. Letting go. Letting someone else take care of you.”
She takes a small step back and bumps into the front of a desk. Her hands rest behind her on the edge now, like she needs the support.
“You’re not mad?” she asks again, softer.
I shake my head, stepping between her knees. “No, Liv. I’m turned on.”
Her breath catches. I rest my hand on the desk beside her and lean in, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear.
“You let him kiss you,” I whisper. “And then you kissed me.”
She shivers.
“I think about it more than I should.”
I press my lips to hers. It’s gentle at first, slow and full.
Her hands grip the front of my shirt like she’s trying to anchor herself.
I slide mine under her thighs and lift her onto the desk.
She gasps, startled. Her legs wrap loosely around my hips.
Her skirt slides up as I settle her, and the second I see the top of her stockings again, something in me snaps. I drop to my knees without hesitation.
“Silas—wait,” she stammers. “What if someone—?”
“No one comes in here,” I murmur against her thigh, pressing a kiss right above the stocking band. “But if they do, let them watch. Let them see what you do to me. Let them see what I do to you.”
“But our class—” She looks down at me, nervous, lips parted, every inch of her telling me she wants to say yes even though her head’s spinning.
“I’ll make quick work of you,” I promise, voice lower now. “You’ll be back in your seat before anyone notices.”
Then I kiss higher and higher. Her breath hitches hard when my mouth touches her. My hands grip her thighs, steadying her, spreading her open. She tastes like heaven and a little bit of sin, and I could stay here for hours if we had the time. But I can’t.
She whimpers and shudders, her fingers sliding through my hair, hips jerking against my mouth as I work her up fast. She finishes with a strangled gasp, thighs shaking, hand covering her mouth as her whole body melts.
When I stand again, she’s still catching her breath, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. She reaches for me, fingers brushing the waistband of my pants. I gently take her hand in mine and lift it to my lips.
She looks up at me, confused.
“I’m good,” I say, kissing her fingers. “I don’t need anything else.”
“But—”
“Trust me. That was everything.”
She smiles then, slow and dreamy. We straighten her clothes. I fix her hair. She pats down my shirt with still-shaky hands, and I kiss the top of her head.
Then we slip back out the door and back to class.