I scoffed. “So are you.”
“I don’t even know how to apologize,” Wyatt snapped. “Willow’s pissed at me too. Our dad is a massive asshole, her mom is getting worse, I–”
“Her mom? What’s wrong with Willow’s mom?” I cut him off. That was the second comment I’d heard about Lauren. Willow had nevertold me much about her mom, and I hadn’t worked up the courage to ask her.
Wyatt sighed deeply, then shook his head. “Ask Willow,” he said lowly.
“Fucking hell, Wyatt. You don’t trust me with anything!” I cried.
Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t even know where to start. I don’t think you even want to forgive me, you just want me to participate in some humiliation ritual. What am I supposed to do, Skye? Get on my knees?”
“Maybe you should,” I said softly. Wyatt’s hazel eyes flashed. We stared for several seconds, locked in a showdown, neither of us wanting to back away from the challenge.
Wyatt slowly breathed out, his heated gaze slowly cooling into something icy. I braced myself. I really hated this version of Wyatt. I wished I could figure out what caused this switch to flip inside him. I’d avoid it at all costs if I knew.
“Like Aiden?” Wyatt scoffed. “Is that all it takes? You just want some sexual submission and that’ll clear everything up? I won’t be pathetic like him–”
The sound of the slap I delivered to his face was frightfully loud in the silence of the office.
Wyatt’s head snapped completely to the left, his cheek immediately pinkening from the force of my slap. The palm of my hand stung, but I refused to shake it out. My affinity bristled along my forearms, but that smack was all me.
Wyatt slowly turned his face back toward me, his gaze darkening. “Is that something else he lets you do?”
I slapped him again.
And again.
Both Wyatt’s cheeks were bright red when I finally stopped and he turned his glare on me. His hazel eyes had darkened, his pupils blown out.
That was…interesting.
The air shifted between us. Wyatt’s heavy breathing was no longer just from anger. My chest heaved with the realization. What started asan angry stare down had suddenly changed into a different kind of heat.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know whether to move the conversation back to anger, or how to push it a bit further into the…something else.
I blamed my next words on my libido.
“Is this what you like?” I asked, proud my voice didn’t shake. “You want someone to hurt you?”
Wyatt swallowed hard, his jaw working before he spoke. “You do that enough without having to touch me,” he muttered, then looked away.
The mood shifted again. The weird energy that’d just filled the air between us was gone. A pang of guilt shot through me, and I resisted the urge to rub at my chest.
I blew out a breath. Watching Wyatt’s entire demeanor shift on a dime like this was…sad. His shoulders were hunched, his gaze on the floor. Before I could convince myself otherwise, I decided to try to reach him one more time. Maybe the slaps had opened something up between us.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I said softly. “You hurt me, too, Wyatt.”
“I don’t…” Wyatt ran his hands up and down his thighs, almost anxiously. “I don’t know how to be normal around you,” Wyatt said, still keeping his gaze to the side. “I don’t…I don’t like how things are between us, but I don’t know how to make it any different.”
Okay. This was good. This was really good.
“What would you tell a student in your position?” I asked.
Wyatt’s expression flickered, but he still wouldn’t look at me while he considered the question. “I’d tell them they’re probably suffering from low self-esteem, and that they hold themselves to a higher standard than necessary. I’d tell them that forgiveness goes a long way, and–”
He faltered.
Slowly, I raised my hand until my palm cupped one of Wyatt’s pinkened cheeks, heated from the force of my slap. He closed his eyesfor a second, leaning into my touch almost imperceptibly while his shoulders relaxed a fraction.
