“Why would I ever be insecure?” Taylor said. “Especially around you?”
Fuck him. Why did he have to take every single opportunity to put me down, to make me feel so small?
“Because,” I said, raising my chin, “I’m more experienced than you. But it’s all good. We’re in uni. It’s the perfect time for you to catch up.”
“Right,” Taylor said, moving slightly closer. “You may be more experienced — something I’m already doubtful of — but I’m better in bed.”
I forced a scoff. “Yeah right. I’ve had tons more practice.”
“I’m sure you studied more than me too,” Taylor said. He shifted an inch closer, and I felt a bolt of fear. “But who, between us, won a full academic scholarship, and who’s here paying tuition fees?”
I gritted my teeth. “Shut up.”
“Don’t be a sore loser. You can’t be the best at everything. Or,” he laughed softly, “anything.”
“Stop acting like you’re better in bed than me. You can’t just say that, not when you have no proof.”
He opened his mouth, but I continued before he could argue. “And there’s no way to prove it. It’s not like you can pull a girl in here and fuck her in front of me to prove just how good you are.”
“You’d like to watch me, wouldn’t you?”
“The fuck?” I said. “Ew, no. No fucking way. Don’t say that gay shit.”
He didn’t look affected by my words. “There is actually a way for us to prove who’s better at sex. We could have a competition.”
“And how the hell would we do that?”
He waved a hand. “I’ll tell you all the logistics later. The point is…you wanna do it? There’d be a prize too, of course.”
He had my curiosity now. “What prize?”
He smiled. “The big bedroom.”
“You meanmybedroom?” I asked. “No way, that’s not up for grabs.”
“Why? Scared you’re going to lose it?” He clicked his tongue. “Not so confident now, are you?”
“That’s not it,” I snapped. “There’s no point in me competing for a prize that I already have.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding bored. “If I win, I get the bedroom. If you win, you can choose your prize. What do you want?”
I thought about it. There was no way I would ever take part in this dumbass competition — anyone with two braincells could see Taylor was clearly trying to trick me into giving him my bedroom. But regardless, it was fun to think about hypothetical prizes.
“If I won,” I said slowly, “you’d have to be my slave for the rest of the year.”
Ha. There was no way he’d agree to that.
“Done,” Taylor said.
“Done?” I repeated, not sure if I heard correctly. “You do remember what the word slave means, right? It means I own you. If I want you to do my laundry, you do it. If I want you to cook me a five course meal, you do it. If I wanted you to get on your knees and clean every inch of the bathroom floor with your tongue, you do it.”
“Yes, I know.”
But I couldn’t help continuing. “It means if I want you to do all my homework, you do it. If I want you to carry me around, you do it. If I want you to strip naked and run through campus in broad daylight, exposing yourself infront of everyone and putting yourself at risk of a public indecency charge, you do it. I could ruin your life.”
Taylor shrugged. “Yeah, I understand. But I’m not worried. I know I’m going to win.”
I stared at his perfect face for a long moment. Someone like him had never lost in his life. Of course he was brimming with confidence.
