I sink down onto the floor next to her cage, suddenly exhausted.
For the first time in years, I feel lonely surrounded by my animals. They usually bring me comfort, but today there’s just… emptiness.
My mind keeps drifting back to yesterday. To the feel of Devlin’s skin, hot and silky under my palm. To the sounds he made.
To the way he came apart so quickly, like he’d been holding back for too long.
And then to the cruel words that followed. The reminder that I’m stupid, naive, easy to manipulate.
I’d been dreaming of something different, I realize.
Some stupid, romantic fantasy where Devlin kissed me and everything changed between us. Where he looked at me differently.
But that’s not what happened.
He used me, then reminded me of my place.
I should have known better.
“You’re pathetic,” I tell Gerald, who continues to ignore me. “And so am I.”
I force myself to stand, to continue with feeding time, to check the camera I installed in the corner a few weeks ago for security. Everything looks normal on the monitor.
Everything except me.
* * *
It’s dark by the time I leave the rescue center, heading back toward my dorm. The campus is quiet, most students either at dinner or holed up studying.
I’m halfway across the main quad when the feeling hits me.
Someone is watching me.
I tell myself I’m being paranoid. That yesterday’s events have me jumping at shadows. But the feeling persists, crawling up my spine like insects.
I deliberately veer right when I reach the square, pretending I’m heading toward the city streets instead of my dorm. If someone is following me, maybe I can lose them in the busier areas.
Behind me, footsteps quicken.
My heart starts to race. I walk faster, my hand gripping the strap of my backpack.
The footsteps match my pace.
I stop abruptly, spinning around, ready to run or scream or—
Devlin steps out of the shadows.
He’s not even trying to hide anymore, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim streetlights. His hair is slightly disheveled, his expression unreadable in the darkness.
We stare at each other for a long moment.
“What the hell are you doing?” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to. “Are you following me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation, no apology.
“Why?”
He takes a step closer, and I instinctively step back. Something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration.
