I don’t know what he sees when he pulls back but it must meet his approval as he nods, swaps position to take my hand inhis, then strides from the room, me walking on legs made of jelly by his side.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MADDOX
Halfway through thelesson and Evie grips the edges of the desk with both hands, surging forward when I apply the vibrations, relaxing when the intense sensation ends. My ear stays attuned, ready to nix the exercise if at any time it grows too loud.
I want to make her feel good. Not embarrass her. To use the threat of discovery to urge her to greater heights, not a pinprick of shame to burst her balloon.
The phone rests on my leg and she sneaks a quick glance at the screen as I adjust the setting, clicking it to a higher level while she shakes her head, catching her eye as I turn it one notch further.
She worries at her bottom lip, tearing the thin skin there, sucking at the reddening patch.
I wonder what it feels like, try to imagine the scene at the burning building transposed to this sedate classroom. It makes the skin of my neck tingle, the tips of my ears burn red.
“Something amusing you, Alcott?”
“Just happy to be in your class, sir.”
There’s a titter from other students, but none seem sure that I’m joking, including Mr Willoughby, the teacher. He turns back to the board where he’s crowdsourcing notes.
I face forward, arching an eyebrow as I read through the list of points, not even sure what the rest of the class are discussing. Something about political rhetoric in the lead up to war.
Then I inevitably turn my focus back to Evie. She’s adorable, hot and flustered, desperately trying not to draw attention her way.
She reaches out her hand, curving a finger over the display to lessen the intensity.
Naughty girl, but I take the setting into consideration. After all, it’s not me with a machine shoved deep inside, triggering a wave of pleasure I can barely imagine.
“Can anyone suggest a reason?” the teacher asks, and Evie wrinkles her nose, a tell that means she knows the answer.
Something I’ve quickly learned, and which Mr Willoughby must understand, too, because he ignores the raised hands to call on her specifically. “Evie? Do you have an answer?”
“All groups are echo chambers in a way, aren’t they?” Her sweet voice carefully takes the class through her reasoning. Only I know the reason for the tense side-eye she sweeps my way.
But I would never… okay, just a little buzz.
My finger brushes the control, lowering the intensity as it continues, keeping my gaze fixed on the board while monitoring Evie from my peripheral vision.
Her leg trembles, jittering like she spent the night slamming back coffee after coffee. As the dial winds down, so too does her agitation. The white knuckles ease to pink again. There’s no audible sign of discomfort in her voice.
“Word choices aside, it’s a valid point.” Mr Willoughby opens it to the class again. “Can anyone add examples of modern echo chambers?”
“I thought word choices were the main thrust of it, sir.”
He purses his lips, clamping back the laugh, then the discussion moves away, taking a few minutes to circle back around. As he embarks on a new question, Evie glances to me, then politely raises her hand.
I move the dial and her elbow drops a little, her enthusiasm to speak in front of the class ebbing, then I return it most of the way to its previous position, also flicking on a vibration pattern for added effect.
“Social media is like that, isn’t it? You follow like-minded individuals rather than seeking views different to yours.”
A bead of sweat glows at the edge of her hairline, growing in volume as I edge the dial towards maximum, then the phone skids off the side of my leg, falling face down on the floor.
Evie’s voice sounds strained to my ear as she tries to keep pace with Mr Willoughby’s open questions and the other discussion points roaming the class. I reach for the phone, taking it with one hand while I cup her ankle with the other, feeling the faint hint of a vibration sink into my skin like a kiss blown through the air.
“Did you have something to add, Alcott?”
“Not me, sir,” I reply, straightening in my seat and letting my fingers brush all the way along the inside of her calf on the way. “Just wondering if Evie was close to finishing.”
