I wait for a few moments, steadying myself, before I walk towards the bathroom myself. It's giving me flashbacks to a week ago when she had her fingers in my cunt. I've literally been sexually frustrated since then, because of her avoiding me.
I walk into the bathroom and she's standing in front of the mirrors, reapplying her lip-gloss. Instantly, her gaze catches mine and I can see her jaw clenching. I walk closer behind her and she doesn't stop her ministrations.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
She sighs, putting her lip-gloss down. “What do you want?”
Her voice. That's the first time in a week that I'm hearing her velvety voice and it's spurring me on in unimaginable ways. It feels like a breath of fresh air after being trapped underground for far too long.
“For you to stop ignoring me,” I answer back bluntly and unashamed.
She looks taken aback by my honesty and I don't blame her, I'm taken aback too. This is not the way I usually am, especially with her.
“I'm not ignoring you, I'm just busy.” Comes her lame retort.
“I'm still your tutor. We can’t just stop—”
“I'm busy.” She cuts me off, repeating her words.
At this point, she has turned around, finally facing me and it's hard to continue my train of thought when she looks this sexy.
Her silky blonde hair is tied into a perfect, slicked ponytail and her uniform is as perfect as always. She's not wearing as much makeup as she usually does today, regardless, she always looks ethereal.
“Well, are you busy tonight?” I ask.
Say no. Tell me no. I'm even okay if she keeps denying what her sexuality is as long as she just finally talks to me again.
We can just go back to tutoring only. She can heal in whatever way she wants and deal with her sexuality on her own terms. I've never had a problem with that—
“Yeah, I'm going to dinner with Adonis, it's our anniversary.”
Seriously? So, while I've essentially been in agonizing guilt for a whole week, thinking that she's probably dealing with so much anxiety and internalized homophobia, she's actually been perfectly fine? So fine that she's going to dinner with her stupid boyfriend?
“What are you both celebrating? Cheating on each other?” My voice comes out more snippy than I would like, but I can't help it.
“He gets his fill and so do I,” she says, unbothered.
A pang hits my chest before I can even think straight. A fill? That's what I am?
Why are you so bothered by that? You don't believe in love, just sex, right?Oh, get lost, brain! I don't have time for your sarcasm.
“Noted,” I say in a clipped tone and I think I see a speck of guilt enter her eyes, but it goes as quickly as it comes.
The way she said that, like they're in some messed up open relationship where they have affairs with other people and then come back together to talk about it; like I'm her little experiment or something.
“What? Are you jealous or something?” She laughs in that cruel, little way.
I ignore her words. “Have you been fucking him while we've been doing whatever this is?” I gesture between us with my hands.
Jealous. Why would I be jealous? Jealous of a man that can take her out to dinner? A man that she wouldn't be ashamed of; someone she would be able to be seen with in public or take home to her mother?
I'm not jealous.
So why do I need her to say no so badly?
“Of course, I have,” she says, furrowing her eyebrows like I'm being ridiculous. “He is my boyfriend. I told you I don't like girls.Youare the experiment here, not him.”
A wave of fury and hurt travels through my body at her words. I feel my knees go week, especially as she stands here, stone faced.
