Then he told me to put my arms out, and instead of saying no or just not moving, I did it because I wanted to be good for him.
The restraint itself was crude and industrial and intimidating as fuck, but I’m sure that was a big part of the appeal for him. I probably wouldn’t have hesitated if he’d pulled out a pair of handcuffs or Velcro hand ties or even some rope because those are at least familiar, but that isn’t his style, and the thick, unforgiving straps were actually pretty damn hot once they were on.
Maybe it’s because they were around my wrists and not my throat or my chest, but I didn’t feel trapped in them. I felt restricted and vulnerable and helpless, but in the best way possible.
It’s hard to explain, but having my hands bound made it easier to let go. It helped turn off some of the noise in my head, but it was also a physical reminder of who was in charge, and it sure as fuck wasn’t me.
He had all the power, and I could just exist and feel and be in the moment instead of getting stuck in my head and obsessing over every little moment of my very willing submission to him.
“Hey,” a voice calls, breaking me free from my thoughts. “West!”
I pause, my defenses instantly going up. I was hoping to get to Anthony’s room without getting sidelined by anyone, but that was obviously wishful thinking.
There’s a reason I’ve ignored everyone except Damon and Mr. X for the past few days, and I’m really not in the mood to break that streak now, but I can’t exactly pretend like I didn’t hear him. And it would look pretty sus if I sprinted the last dozen or so feet to Ant’s door to try and escape.
“Hey, Derek,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, as he hurries to catch up with me.
Derek is a third-year like me, and we have mutual friends, but we’re not really friends. The only reasons he’d stop me in the hall like this are if he has frat business to tell me, or if he wants to know about my business.
“Hey,” he repeats as he comes up to me. “So, I heard about you and McKenna.”
I shoot him a tight smile. “Pretty sure everyone’s heard about that.”
“Yeah, they probably have,” he says awkwardly. “And there’s so many rumors going around, so it’s hard to know what’s true, you know?”
I’m hit with the ridiculous urge to kick him in the shins and run away like a toddler, but I resist. I really don’t need to add rumors about me being completely unstable to the ones already floating around.
“Yeah, you know what they say, there are always three sides to any story. Hers, mine, and the truth.” I have no idea if that even makes sense, but it’s all I can think to say that won’t open the door for more questions.
“So true.” He nods and rocks awkwardly on his feet. “So I guess things are over, over?”
“As opposed to them being over, but not over?” I ask, some of my exasperation slipping into my tone.
He has the decency to look uncomfortable as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “That didn’t come out right. I was just asking if things are over, or if you might get back together.”
“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” I say dryly, and I have a feeling that my face is impersonating the unimpressed emoji with the flat lines for its eyes and mouth. “But things are over, over, hence the broken engagement.”
He nods, his eyes darting around the hall and looking at everything except me. “Cool,” he says. “Cool, cool, cool.”
The cadence of his words reminds me of a meme or a scene in a show that I can’t place, and I can tell he’s trying to find a way to ask another invasive question.
I wait a full and very awkward thirty seconds, then my impulses get the better of me, and instead of walking away, I give him a big, cheesy grin.
“So, are you asking because you want some gossip?” I ask cheerfully. “Or because you want to know if it’s okay to move in on my ex-fiancée?”
His eyes widen, and his mouth actually drops like it’s been unhinged.
I laugh at his gobsmacked expression.
“Really, Derek?” a familiar voice asks from behind me.
I manage not to whip around like an overeager freak and glance over my shoulder at Anthony like a normal person as he comes up to where we’re standing.
Jesus fuck, he looks good. It’s seriously criminal how hot he is, and him in a tank top is definitely my kryptonite.
“It’s been two days, and you’re already angling to be the rebound guy?” Anthony continues, somehow sounding both unimpressed and judgmental at the same time.
“I’m not!” Derek says quickly.
