“They’ll still expel you.” He flinches, and the reaction emboldens me. “You won’t be in my classes or hanging around outside my house all hours of the day and night, so what the fuck do I care if those charges stick?”
His fingers clamp around my wrist. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want their pills back.” A sharp edge forms beneath his teasing lilt, and the sound makes me giddy.
“There’s a train track halfway between here and home. Even without the pills, I’ve got options.” I put my face as close to his as I dare. “And when I do find a way to get what I want, you’ll be far away, missing the entire event. Lose-lose.”
Damien clicks his tongue. “And what’s the win-win scenario? Because touché little ghost, that sounds horrendous.”
“You pay for those glasses tonight and I won’t report you if you stay away from now on.”
“Strong start, but absolutely not.” His fingertips nudge mine. “How about the glasses, a front-row seat to your impending demise, and I restrict my personal interest in you to a maximum of once per day?”
“Glasses and your front-row seat. Nothing more.”
“That and ten interactions. On top of what we’ve already done, not including.”
“One and you have to organise it in advance.”
“Five.”
“Three.”
“Deal.” His crushing grip engulfs my hand. “You have balls, I’ll give you that, but”—he drags me forward, lips against my ear—“next Wednesday lunchtime, I’ll put you on your knees for this.” He drags his tongue across his upper lip, leaving it glistening. “It’ll be absolutely filthy.”
He slowly draws himself up to his full height, hands resting on the chair back, studying me until I squirm. Then he pulls an envelope from his inside pocket and slides it in front of me.
“Here. I was going to give it to you later when we collect your glasses—”
“Are we still doing that?”
My voice must betray my anxiety because he frowns, then wrinkles his nose. “Of course.” He taps the back of the envelope. “Open it.”
I lift the sealed flap and gasp. The currency strap inside must be worth ten grand, and I give it a covetous stroke before my suspicion flares. “Is this payment for last night?”
“No, it’s cash to buy ‘whatever the fuck you like,’ as agreed.” When my expression doesn’t change, he gives a low laugh. “Believe me, if you were a sex worker, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.”
I know he promised me cash, but the reality is next-level different. No more sneaking money from Bryan’s emergency fund, I can top it up instead.
It goes straight into my bag, and I hug it on my lap. “Thank you.”
Damien inclines his head. “Just to let you know…” He moves behind me. Hands on my shoulders, breath ruffling my hair. “If you ever feel the need, you can come to me, no questions asked. I won’t be imposing some retaliatory reverse quota bullshit. Use me whenever you like.”
A few seconds later, he’s vanished out the door and it’s just as well. My cheeks are flaming with heat, well off his imaginary colour chart.
For all my protests, I might be just as addicted to our sick game as Damien.
My bag feels unbelievablyheavy with all the cash, and it weighs just as heavily on my mind. I worry someone will steal it and worry more that Damien will demand something more in return.
The negotiation was tough at the time, but looking back, he capitulated far too easily. Knowing Damien, he already has another scheme in mind.
But he’s well behaved in music. Sitting next to me, yes. Pressing his thigh against mine, yes, but nothing more. Just a low, “See you later,” before he leaves.
And again, after school, he drives me straight to the optometrist’s office. Slouching without complaint in the waiting room chair while the man adjusts my glasses, and takes me through their features, giving me a download link to the full instructions.
Despite the technology, the lenses themselves are such high-density, the overall weight is less than my broken pair.
When I emerge, Damien’s by the door, the bill already paid. He checks his phone twice when we’re walking back to the carpark, and when he gets in the driver’s seat, his eyes go straight to the dashboard clock.
My knee starts bouncing. “Are you running late for something?”
