I put the car in gear, hands shaking slightly, and pull away from the curb. In the rearview mirror is a final glimpse of white hair before she disappears inside her back door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OPHELIA
Damien barely speaksduring fourth period music class, and I’m grateful for his silence. The intimacy of last night, sitting on his lap, memorising the contours of his face, keeps reappearing in my thoughts no matter how hard I shove it away.
On the surface, it doesn’t seem like the type of interaction that should stay with me so emphatically, not after what we’ve already done. But it’s the first time I’ve initiated anything between us.
Even if it seems less impactful on the surface, the experience has worked far deeper under my skin.
We’re leaving the room when Damien pulls me aside. “Send me a photo.” His voice is dark and husky. “Something I’ll like.”
I tap my finger on my lips like I’m thinking and he snags my hand away.
“No. Don’t suggest puppies or whatever equally ridiculous thing you’re about to say.” He bends until our faces are level. “You know exactly what I mean. Do it.”
Warnings from our sexual health class ring loudly in my ear. Photos leaked online. Revenge porn. Incel group chats. “Why don’t you send me one first?”
He hums under his breath, his fingers around my wrist like a warm handcuff. Then he gives a squeeze and releases me. “Okay.”
A second later he’s gone.
I head for the library, and my shoulders relax the moment its quiet ambience embraces me.
It’s a study period and while any sane student would immediately head home, I prefer working here, with the reference tomes all around and Regency High’s superior wifi.
My laptop screen is full of notes by the time my phone buzzes.
Blood rushes to my cheeks as Damien’s stiff cock fills the screen, engorged veins twining along his length.
A twinge hits my abdomen; a day late to dismiss as a period cramp. I enlarge the image, searching for something identifiable, but it’s not like he included his face in the shot.
There’s a blur of silver on the side of the image, where his fingers grip the shaft, bending it forward so it fills the entire screen. It might be one of the rings I’ve felt on his fingers, but plenty of boys wear heavy rings.
The brief hope I had of gaining useful evidence, something I could threaten to send Chelsea if he turns on me, disappears in a flash.
DAMIEN
Your turn
The bathroom entrance is beside the crammed history shelves, and I sneak inside, flicking the lock on the door.
I’ve never done this before. My heart’s beating out of my chest.
I unbutton my blouse with shaking fingers, then unhook my bra, blaming my tight nipples on the cool air, even as my cheeks warm to bright pink.
Footsteps sound right outside the door and my muscles lock. Even when they move past, I can’t relax. Especially when my naked chest fills the screen.
Once I’ve framed the shot so my face is hidden, I take a burst of images, then quickly do up my blouse.
Decent again, I enlarge the resulting pictures. It’s odd seeing myself like this, sensual. My eyes keep bouncing away. I choose the best one and add it to my reply text. My thumb won’t press send.
Damien covered his identity, but I don’t have the same luxury, even with my face obscured. If he shows anyone in school, they’ll instantly know it’s me.
You know he won’t share it. Not unless he’s planning to kill them after.
I suppress a laugh. It’s true.
