A kaleidoscope of emotions flashes across her face before settling onoutrage mixed with a hint of awe.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” she whispers.
She rips her chin out of my grasp and steps away, bitterness settling into the curl of her upper lip.
“Then allow me one last privilege to prove you wrong.”
She spins on her heel and charges toward a group of students loitering outside the history building. It takes a few extra seconds to process what’s happening before I quickly fall in step behind her, confused as to what the fuck she’s planning.
She reaches the group and stops before Bryan Gate, the star quarterback of HCU’s football team.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Reverie’s question is more of a demand, and one that catches Bryan off guard.
The fuck does she care about that for?
“Uh, n-no?” he answers, his brow furrowing as he flicks a bemused glance my way.
We’ve spoken to one another a few times and are amicable when we cross paths, but we’re not friends by any means.
Which means I have no fucking problem killing him should I need to.
My jaw clenches when she lifts onto her toes to whisper something in his ear. The bones in my skull are threatening to crack from the pressure when he flicks another glance at me—this one almost amused—before he gives her a simple nod.
Then she grasps either side of his head and crushes her lips to his. His friends gasp, most of them descending into laughter and whistles. My vision flickers, glimpsing his tongue swirling with hers, before snuffing completely.
Wrath has decimated everything inside me. I’m a barren wasteland after a volcanic disaster. There’s nothing left—which means there’s nothing left of my restraint.
My body moves, sounds arise, and a faint flare of pain blooms across my knuckles before fading again. I think I hear someone cursing at me, but I can’t be entirely sure. All five of my senses are relatively nonexistent, but I’m vaguely aware of a weight over my shoulder and repeated pressure hitting my back.
It isn’t until I’m halfway across campus and ten feet from the sports center that my senses return.
“Let me go!” Reverie screeches.
She’s flung over my shoulder, and her fists repeatedly slam into my back, but they feel like nothing more than crumpled paper balls bouncing off me.
“I would rather die,” I growl.
My hand whips across her ass, offering a minuscule release of the explosive energy built up inside me. She gasps sharply, her upper half rearing up for a moment before she relaxes and descends into another fit.
“You. Fucking.Asshole!”
If I could think properly, I might’ve basked in the feeling of spanking her. Except right now, the only thing I can appreciate is the release rather than her tight, plump ass. My hand twitches with the need to do it again, but I have enough foresight to know if I do, I won’t be able to stop.
I swing the door to the sports center open, and Reverie instantly stops screaming. It’s a massive area filled with equipment and several students lifting weights, using the treadmills, or stretching.
Many of them cast inquisitive glances our way, but I ignore them all. Meanwhile, Reverie growls insults and threats at me beneath her breath, though I don’t bother listening to half of them.
By the time I’m charging down the hallway to the public pool, she’s exhausted herself. Or rather, she’s reserving her remaining energy because she knows something is coming.
The college team has our own Olympic-sized pool, but practice isn’t until later, so it’s locked until then. As team captain, I have keys for emergencies, though Coach doesn’t care if I swim here after hours.
Anything for the Olympic prodigy.
However, the keys are in my dorm, so public pool it is.
Thankfully, there’s no one here right now. But even if there was, I'd kindly ask them to fucking leave.
The second I slam through the door, the familiar scent of chlorine fills my senses. Usually, it offers a sense of comfort, like coming home, but I’m too far gone—lost in irrationality. Reverie has a special way of driving me to dark places where my sanity struggles to survive.
