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I’d assumed he always had his flunkies doing it, and maybe in the beginning, he had.
The one he left today, though, he slid right into my locker and stayed there when he spotted me.
“Number twenty,” he said, absolutely relentless. His grin high, he nodded toward the locker. “Aren’t you curious?”
I was, but I played that off. Instead of opening my locker, I stared at him. “Why should I be? They’re all the same.”
They were all him, each and every one. Some days they weren’t as deep as number sixteen or number twelve, but they were still him. Like he was trying to peel open his heart and let me in for a little peek. Honestly, I was starting to hate them as much as anticipate them. I was starting to feel a lot of pressure with each one I found and not to give in for a date.
I thought, one day, he may want me to reciprocate. He’d want me to open myself up, and I wasn’t ready for that. Things were difficult after he left, the scars.
Dorian’s grin slipped a little in my direction, and he averted his eyes as I opened my locker. The note fell out like it always did, and I opened it up.
It was blank.
I even turned it around to see if I’d missed something.
“You know, you’re acting like you don’t care, little fighter…” He edged closer, his heat close. His lips parted. “But it sure looks like you do.”
I hated that I did.
It didn’t matter.
It couldn’t matter.
Why does he keep doing this?
I felt ripped open right in front of him, peeled apart as he rested an arm against the locker.
Blond eyebrows narrowed hard. “You want more, you’re gonna have to give me something.” His brow lifted slow. “I’m serious about all the things I said. I am, and I’m willing to work for them, but…”
Our gazes clashed, his frown hard.
“I need something from you.” He scanned my eyes. “Just… something.”
He was so close now, and he didn’t have to explain. He needed something from me.
He needed something back.
He needed to know all this wasn’t pointless, and I was well aware I wasn’t giving him anything.
I didn’t want to.
Pride was something else. Hurt was something else. This boy had hurt me, multiple times, and I couldn’t easily forget.
I wished I could.
With no response from me, Dorian’s head lowered, that silky blond brushing his brow. I wanted to touch it so bad.
I wanted to touch him.
I resisted the devil in all his dark temptation. Dorian may be willing to change, but that part of him would always be there. He’d always have the capability of massive destruction, even if he had changed.
He could always destroy me whether he wanted to or not.
Reaching up, he played with my hair, and I let him for a second because I was stupid.
The hair slipped from his fingers.
