"You don't ruin things," I'd told him. And then I reached out and brushed his hair back from his face. Like some lovesick teenager in a movie.
I dig my fingernails into my palms. I shouldn't have touched him. Shouldn't have sat on his bed. Shouldn't have wanted to kiss him so badly my entire body ached with it.
But I did. I still do.
And that's the problem. Because everything I've built here, three years of perfect behavior, three years of earning Griff's trust, three years of planning a future in corrections after my parents destroyed my life by sending me here, all of it depends on one thing: control.
Control is the only thing I have. It's the only thing that separates me from my parents, from the kids who cycle through here and end up back inside within a year, from the version of myself that almost didn't survive that first month. I built a life out of discipline, out of rules, out of never letting anyone get close enough to compromise what I'm working toward.
And Liam is dismantling all of it.
I'm in a position of power over him. His leader. Responsible for his behavior, his progress, his safety. What kind of person uses that position to what? Kiss him? Date him? Let him take responsibility when it’smyfault? Whatever this is becoming?
Shadow's face flashes through my mind. His hand on Seth's cheek. His thumb on Seth's lip. The way he leaned in, whispering, in that empty hallway. The way Seth looked up at him with adoration and lust, from someone who couldn't say no even if he wanted to, because the power imbalance made consent meaningless.
I'm not Shadow. I keep telling myself that. But every time I touch Liam, every time I sit on his bed in the dark and brush his hair back and want to kiss him, and let him take the punishment that should be mine, how different is it, really? He's my mentee. I'm his leader.
Are you gonna kiss me, or just stare at my mouth?
My body flushes hot. I add more weight to the bar. He called me a chicken. Maybe I am. But at least chickens have survival instincts. I'm worse than a chicken. A chicken would have run.
This ends now. Before it can start.
I run a hand through my hair, mapping out a strategy. Extra administrative duties. Different shifts. Rearranged trainingpartners so we're never paired. Interactions kept professional, brief, limited to supervision. No more late-night conversations. No more sitting on his bed. No more touching him. No more letting him defend me.
I need to protect my future. And maybe, in a way, I'm protecting him too. Liam doesn't need another person who'll eventually leave. He doesn't need to think he has to defend me and land himself in trouble. He doesn't need the complications of whatever this is with someone who has authority over him.
This is the right thing. I always do the right thing.
MMA in twenty minutes. I'll pair with Jack. Anything to keep distance.
I repeat it like a mantra, trying to drown out the memory of his voice. The softness in his eyes. The way he makes me forget every rule I've ever set for myself.
Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.
But I am going somewhere. And it has to be away from him.
By the time I reach the training hall, my face is a mask. The same expression I've perfected over three years. No one will see through it. Especially not Liam. It has to be better this way.
I'm early. Pulling on gloves, taping each finger. Anything to keep busy. Kids filter in. I track Liam's arrival without meaning to. He scans the room, catches sight of me, starts to smile, that stupid puppy smile.
Something in my chest cracks. I turn away before he can reach me.
"Hey, partner up with me today?" I ask Jack, who's stretching in the corner.
Jack raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but I'm still salty you left me for Liam."
"Thought we could make a comeback," I say. Forced smile. "Besides, I need someone who can actually challenge me."
"Wow. Burn. Poor kid."
Across the room, Liam hesitates. Confusion on his face as he realizes I've paired off without him. He stands there for a moment, uncertain. I force myself to look away.
Griff enters, clapping his hands. "Circle up." We form a ring. I position myself opposite Liam, using taller students as barriers. "Defensive techniques today. Partner drills first, then rotations."
The hall fills with noise, gloves on pads, feet on mats, Griff barking corrections. I throw myself into it with Jack, harder and faster than necessary. The burn helps. Almost.
Then I see who Liam's training with.
