“Trauma bonding?” she says, her voice billowing in and out of hearing. “Remember?”
What the fuck?
The panicked thought flutters through my mind like Bastian’s butterfly, trapped inside a crystal ball that looks invisible from the inside.
“You okay?” Melissa asks.
No.
Not now.
Not ever.
Please, God, help me.
But Bastian starts talking again, and she turns away from me with a lingering frown.
“The most insidious aspect,” Bastian says, voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow carries through the silent classroom, “is that the body, especially if there’s physical abuse, often betrays the mind.”
I’m drawn back to him too, but out of sheer morbid curiosity.
Watching Red Riding Hood’s wolf parade around in class like no one can spot his fur or claws under Granny’s nightgown.
“I see you’re itching to take out your phones and disassociate like Miss Lee’s been doing the entire class,” Bastian says, leaning against the blackboard.
My eyes sting as they widen, unblinking.
Did he just say my name?
“Let me paint you a picture, Miss Lee,” he says, gaze locked with mine.
Dark. Intent. Unrelenting.
Forget a trapped butterfly—he’s got me fucking pinned to a cork board.
Incapacitated, but alive…because it’s more fun that way.
“You’re at a party when you spot a cute guy. You’re both drinking. Getting high. Having the time of your adolescent lives.”
Bastian tosses his chalk into the air and catches it without taking his eyes off me.
“You kiss him, he kisses you, or vice versa. He gets handsy. You don’t stop him. Thingsescalate.”
As desperately as I want to, I can’t look away.
He puts down his chalk and dusts his hands, sparing the rest of the class a brief glance as if to make sure they’re still paying attention.
Because he loves a fucking audience, Professor Rooke.
“You’re too intoxicated to consent to anything, and he’s too drunk to care. The tequila eradicated a large percentage of your brain cells, along with any and all inhibitions, and your poor hormone-flooded bodies can’t get naked fast enough.”
There are a few chuckles, mostly from guys. Beside me, Melissa shifts in her seat. But my eyes are glued to Bastian, and he doesn’t look away as he stalks closer to me.
Every step he takes feels like another bucket of ice water being poured down my back. I feel lightheaded and bolted to the ground at the same time. Breath fast and shallow, heart racing.
He speaks as if he’s whispering the words into my ear, like they’re meant just for me and him. But loud enough for everyone can hear.
Everyone.
