I’m taken aback by his casual disclosure.
So many questions rise in my head, what he said, how she took it, what happened afterwards with his dad… but I leave them unspoken.
We’re done, aren’t we? I shouldn’t care.
“I’ll sort it out,” he says. “There’s a way forward for us, I know there is. All I need to do is find it, okay? Just hold on a little longer, let me prove it to you.” His face turns stern. “And stop threatening Cam’s scholarship. He’s a decent guy who’s only looking out for you. Taking your anger out on him is mean.”
“I won’t be here after this weekend.”
“Yes, you will.” His self-assurance is back in full force. “You got me for a minute, but I know you’re bluffing. Enjoy yourself Saturday. Dance with Basil. Dance with whoever you like, nothing’s changed. You’re still mine.”
He kisses me again and this time it’s utterly dominating. His lips crush against mine, bruising them, his mouth tasting, then claiming me.
I don’t respond but I don’t resist either. I let him kiss me the way a drowning person lets the water close over their head. With resignation and a strange sense of peace.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
Damien pulls my head against his chest. “Nothing’s changed.” Quieter this time.
Then he’s at the classroom door, yanking it open so the bright sunlight spills through the gap, drenching my vision with white as he disappears outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DAMIEN
I’m waitingoutside when Chelsea’s English class pours into the corridor, students chatter turned lively now the final Friday bell has gone. Her face brightens for a split second, then darkens into a scowl.
“Come with me,” I say, seizing her arm when she tries walking past me. “I need a word about your plans for the senior dance.”
“Why?” She wrenches herself free and stops a few feet short of the exit door. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, we don’t have anything left to say.”
“No.” I keep my eyes steady on hers. “I haven’t changed my mind. But I heard a rumour about Basil that—”
Chelsea turns on her heel, heading in the opposite direction, and I grab her around the waist, manhandling her along the corridor and out the exit door.
She struggles, even after I stop beside concrete steps, my palm pinning her shoulder against the wall.
“Get off me.” She lashes out, her fist catching my ear hard. Before she can swing again, I grab both wrists and push them against the rough bricks.
Her teeth snap at me, the muscles in her neck pulled tight.
“Calm down.”
Instead, she shrieks and I cover her mouth with my hand.
Students are milling, the weight of their stares is on my back, but I don’t turn, don’t bother to confirm. Let the gossips have their field day.
Her teeth try to gain purchase against my palm, but I adjust position so she can’t get leverage.
I stare into Chelsea’s widening eyes and let my features settle into something flat and empty. The same face Ophelia embraces while everyone else runs screaming. “You’ve been planning a prank for the dance.”
She shakes her head, movement against my hand more than a visual. I inhale the musk of her perfume, tainted with ash from the cigarettes stubbed out against the wall. Everything grey. Everything flat under the shadows.
Her struggles are already weakening. I adjust my hold, feeling the suction as she breathes in through her nose.
“Why are you so fixated on her?”
I drop both hands, stepping away but poised ready for another scream.
