First, though, I head to my locker and put my books away. I stay there a while, my head against the cold metal, trying to find the physical strength to walk away from the campus, because my whole body is throbbing with pain.
Then I jerk back up, hearing a commotion in the hallway. Quill is at the center of it, which doesn’t surprise me. I’ve never seen anyone get in so many fights as him. I’ve also never seen anyone be so unbothered about consequences. Even the principal seems scared of him, so everyone just leaves him alone.
I really don’t want to go by him, but I’m in a dead-end hallway,and passing him is the only way to get out. Right now, the need for air overtakes the dread of seeing him again. I can only hope he’s so focused on beating up whoever it is he’s currently beating up that he doesn’t see me.
Will. That’s the person who’s currently lying prostrate on the floor as Quill kicks him repeatedly in the stomach and sides, and I wonder vaguely what the guy’s done to piss him off. I keep my head down as I pass them, pressing myself against the opposite wall, but my stomach plummets as I hear the kicking stop, and feel Quill’s eyes on me.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Why couldn’t I just have waited for them to finish their fight?
I try to hurry away, but in a flash, Quill’s got his hand around my arm, and he’s dragging me to the boys’ bathroom.
Great. This day just couldn’t be getting any better. Is he going to dunk my head in the toilet again? If he is, I’m literally going to die. I absolutely cannot handle the worst day of my life getting even shittier.
I try to numb myself for what I’m convinced is about to happen as he slams the door shut behind him, and I just have time to notice Liam and Dane’s smirks on the other side, clearly guessing just as easily as me what Quill’s got in mind.
He locks the door—no one ever locks that door but him, since it’s the only boys’ bathroom on the floor. Anyway, it’s pointless for him to lock it, because by now the whole school probably knows he wants privacy, and no one would dare try to open it.
Still, he turns the lock, making me feel more helpless than ever.
Unexpectedly, he then lets go of my arm. I jump back as soon as I’m free from his grasp, and crush my body to the opposite side of the wall, not caring that my thigh is touching a very gross urinal.
My heart is racing a mile a minute as he faces me, then slowlywalks toward me.
“Stop, Quill, stop,” I find myself gasping as he closes the distance between us. “Please stop. Please don’t do this.”
“Do what?” His voice comes out in a slow rumble that makes my core turn to liquid heat despite everything.
I gesture to one of the toilet bowls in an open stall, my entire body shaking convulsively. I’m terrified, absolutely terrified, not of the physical discomfort of what I’m convinced he’s about to do, but of how it would shatter me.
Everyone has their limit, and I’ve just reached mine.
But instead of imprisoning my arm in his hand again, instead of dragging me to the toilet, he lifts a hand up and… touches my cheek.
Then he stops just inches from me, and I practically cry at smelling his spicy warmth as it causes my insides to twist.
“Don’t be scared of me,” he murmurs, his voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart thundering, his hand on my cheek making me both want to melt into him, and run in the opposite direction. Because his furious gaze from this morning made me realize just how dangerous he is.
“You’re in a lot of pain,” he adds, his voice somehow even gentler.
I can tell he’s talking about physical pain, but that pain is nothing compared to what he’s doing to my heart.
“I hate myself for hurting you,” he breathes in my ear as he takes one last step toward me, his body now flush against mine.
I let out a strangled breath as his lips find mine, and the kiss is unbearably tender, nothing like the passionate way he claimed me last night.
This kiss is far worse, because how can you kiss like that and not care? But I know he doesn’t. I know it now, and I try to force myself not to forget it.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he continues to kiss me, resolutely refusing to kiss him back. He notices after a moment and stops. I can’t help the moan that escapes me at the loss of his lips against mine.
“Don’t you want this? Don’t you want me?”
Am I imagining the crack in his voice? I must be. Quill Nelson is incapable of emotion.
I squeeze my jaw shut as hard as I’m squeezing my eyes. It’s hard for menotto talk, even after all these years of constant bullying. Silence is just not my default mode.
But I’m going to do the impossible, and keep my voice to myself. I won’t give him a single part of me. Not even my words.
