He’s already got what he needs from me, even if the donation is anonymous. Soon, he’ll have far more than he’s used to. More than he knows what to do with.
Every avenue I go down turns into a dead end, hitting against the same blank wall.
That he’s not lying. That everything he told me last night with his body, and his actions today, and his promises for the future, were the truth.
I want that to be the answer so much I’m scared it’s blinding me to what’s really happening.
The stress is too much. The hope too great. If I can’t get some relief from the pressure, I’ll explode.
“I need them,” I repeat, jutting my chin up as if to ward off a blow.
His cock responds to my words far better than the rest of him. It’s jutting out so far, he’ll poke through the wall if he’s not careful. In any other mood, I’d salivate over that fact, but right now I don’t want it.
This is a decision I need a clear head for. Not one replete with freshly slaked lust.
Instead of doing as I ask, he holds up his hand. “Just give me a minute. Tell me why.”
“That isn’t part of the agreement.” My voice is high and tight, weak as if it’s been forced through a thin straw and I flinch from the sound. “I don’t owe you an explanation. You said you’d give me what I needed, so do it.”
“Don’t order me about. I’m not your servant.”
“No.” My eyes blaze at him. “You’re just some guy who fucked me on a video then couldn’t be bothered to give me a heads up it existed.”
Until the words come out my mouth, I didn’t realise how much anger I was holding. At Tarryn, yes. At myself for stupidly not realising what the study cam was when I had the chance, yes.
But his replies to the comments underneath the link? The ones where he liked posts or gave breezy responses like it was no big deal?
That unexpected bonus fills me with rage.
His eyes are wary but unsurprised. He gives a small nod as though he expected this. “I didn’t tell you about the link because I hoped you wouldn’t see it.”
Seb looks sincere, but his explanation is weak. “Sure. Brilliant plan,” I scoff. “How’s that working out for you? Because it’s worked out shitty as hell for me.”
“And what would you have preferred I do? If I’d told you earlier, you’d think I was saying it just to hurt you.”
My mouth clamps in a flat line, not wanting to admit how spot-on his observation is. “You could’ve told them to take it down,” I parry back, my fury not partial to cold, hard facts. “Not commented on it like I was a fucking joke.”
“I couldn’t tell them to do shit!”
Seb retreats a step, nearly falling when the backs of his legs hit against the bed. His shout confuses me. His face twists like the words were painful to admit, but the claim makes no sense.
“You’re friends with Tarryn.” I wave my hands in circles to encompass the entire school. “You’re friends witheveryone.Did you even ask?”
“No, I didn’t ask. I’m not part of your filthy rich club. I don’t get to do whatever the hell I want.”
As if money meant anything in this place where everybody has it. How can he not see those boys are so bored with wealth they’re desperate for one genuine connection? Why can Seb never see his gifts, only his faults?
He flicks his hair back from his forehead. “They’re only friendly because I make it easy for them to like me. We’re notfriends.”
I shake my head, but he butts in again before I can contradict him.
“They’re fine to hang around with at lunch but if I ask something from them, they’ll cut me loose. If I demand something or get in their way, next thing I know my scholarship will be out the window.”
I open my mouth to contradict him, then shut it again. The first day he turned up in class, I’d had similar thoughts. That I could get people onside to make his life a misery instead of the other way round.
It’s been lost in the confusion of everything else that’s happened, but I see he’s right.
Perhaps Seb’s not the only one who finds it hard to see their gifts. It could be time I did a reappraisal myself.
