Page 9 of Scar

It's getting to me. I shouldn't let it, but it is.

This week, I don't even know how I ended up the target of his rage. He was asking about people driving cars, saying driving alone is worse for the environment than carpooling or taking public transportation. So he asked who takes public transportation as their means of getting around, when I raised my hand he immediately started yelling at me that it would be so much better for the environment if I walked. That walking is good for you, and it's free. That I am killing the planet by refusing to walk two miles to school every day. The students that weren't agreeing with him were laughing at me for not having a car. I don't understand how I've been the laughing stock of this class since the first day. I didn't do anything wrong, I'm nice to everyone. I let someone borrow my last pen a few weeks ago! I had to steal a new pen fromCarliesince I didn't have the money for new ones.

I don't know what I did to earn all their hate.

I hate crying in public, it's embarrassing. Yet here I am, wiping a tear from my eye as I sprint across campus to the dining hall. I'm not even hungry, I just want to skip the rest of my classes and sleep. I just want to curl up on my bed and not leave again for a week.

But I have my last class in microbiology after lunch. We're supposed to be getting a brief outline of what to study for the final. I can't skip that, microbiology is my hardest class so far. I barely passed my first year of it, and last year I skated by with a B-. I have to pass, this class is required for my degree. Crap.

I just want to curl up in a ball and pity myself. But at least Shelby will be at lunch, she always makes me feel better. She's somehow replacing Carlie as my best friend. Shelby is sweet, she is caring, she is funny, and outgoing. But she also cares. She makes sure my meals aren't contaminated, she is willing to yell at the waiters if something isn't right, she stays in with me when the rest of the group goes out to party. Carlie has never done that. The longer I'm friends with Shelby, the more I realize how little Carlie actually contributed to our friendship. It breaks my heart to think my best friend cares so little about me. But at least I have Shelby.

Speaking of, Shelby is already in the dining hall when I walk in. My beautiful best friend is arguing with someone who attempted to grab from the gluten-free section while having bread and other things on his tray. She is yelling that she watched him pick up his bread with his bare hands before touching some of the food, and the tongs, in the gluten-free section.

I would've been too scared to say anything, but everything in that section is contaminated now. I would've had to stick with prepackaged food for lunch if it wasn't for Shelby jumping in.

The workers were rushing around and clearing all the food. They moved everything to the regular section of the room, another worker was immediately disinfecting everything. Thank goodness for Shelby. She spins around and smiles at me as soon as she sees me. "Hey, darling! It'll be like twenty minutes before they're ready to serve again!" She says warmly. I smile at her, accepting the hug that she gives me when I reach her. "Thanks, babes. I wasn't all that hungry anyway." I say quietly. She perks up, taking my hand into hers and squeezing it lightly. "What did that asshole Fitz do today?" She asks me. It's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to cry, and I feel stupid for being that on edge. I just shrug, I can't respond without cracking. "Awh, come on darling, let's head back to your place and talk about it. Okay?" Shelby offers, and all I can do is nod.

Shelby and I walked back to my apartment, the two miles to my apartment wasn't so bad when Shelbyis walkingwith me. She holds my hand and talks to me the entire way. She even takes my bag so I don't have to hold it, it makes me feel lucky to have such an amazing friend.

I see that fancy car Leon drives as we walk, but it keeps going when I look at it. I wonder if that was him? I doubt it, I've seen him around campus a few times. It's always from a distance and he's always walking away, probably to his next lecture.

I wish I knew his last name. I've tried looking up all the professors and TA's, but they don't show pictures and the professors only show the first initial of their first name. So I've been stuck. I don't know why I even want to find him so badly other than to thank him for the apple cider. I slowly sipped on that for three months, Carlie finished off the last of it or I'd still have some left now. I know it's only available for a few months a year, so when I can afford it, I always try to make it last.

Shelby keeps my hand in hers, dropping my bag off at the kitchen table before walking me upstairs to my bedroom. I sit on the bed, Shelby sitting beside me. "Tell me what happened, darling." She says sweetly. That breaks me, I don't know why it does, but it does.

I lightly start to cry as I explain to her how rude my professor was today, and how rude the richer kids were as they laughed at me for taking the bus every day. I tell her about how stupid that professor makes me feel every week, and how I never do anything right in his eyes. Even when I answer a question correctly, he's upset that I should have given more to the answer. But when I give the full answer, he cuts me off for wasting his valuable teaching time. I can't win and I hate it.

Shelby hugs me as I cry, unleashing all the frustration from this school year onto her. She keeps telling me that she has broad shoulders, that she can take it and that I should let it all off my chest. So I do. I whine about my year until I have nothing else to say and all I can focus on is Shelby's hand rubbing along my back. "Lay down, I'll rub your shoulders until you fall asleep." She tells me. I shake my head no, sighing at her. I have class in an hour, I can't afford to take a nap. But Shelby shushes me. "I'll get the outline for the final. Go get in your pajamas." She tells me somewhat sternly in her flawless southern accent.

I changed into my silky pink shorts and the matching silk cropped tank top. I know there's no point in arguing with her. And I'm so glad I didn't. Shelby's hands feel magical, I'm almost forgetting why I'm upset as she kneads all of the tension out of my muscles. Her hands trail down my back to my butt, kneading it in her hands. I groan, loudly, but immediately blush a deep red. I didn't mean to make that sound, I've just never had a massage before. "Sorry." I say shyly.

Shelby keeps going, her thumbs slightly going between my cheeks periodically. "It's okay, I'm just here to help." She says to me, and she is, her hands feel like magic. But I can feel her thumbs getting closer and closer to my clothed back hole as she rubs my butt. It makes me tense, I don't know how massages are supposed to go, but I'm not used to people touching me there. "Relax, darling. I'm just going to make you feel good, okay?" She asks me. I feel boneless, a melting puddle on my bed from her magic hands. "Okay." I answer quietly.

Shelby's hands trail down from my butt to the backs of my thighs, sliding upwards and into my shorts. I'm not wearing any panties under these shorts. I don't sleep in panties or a bra. I tense up, trying to close my thighs, but Shelby is sitting between them. "What are you doing?" I ask her nervously. She starts to rub my bare butt. Her thumbs going between my cheeks feels so much different without a layer between us. Shetrailsher hands lower, her thumbs now tracing my lower lips. I want to kick her away and put on five layers of clothes. But I also don't want to stop her. I want to lift my hips and let her pull them off of me. I don't know how I feel about that. I thought I may have liked women when I was younger, but my mother convinced me that it wasn't true, that I was simply a confused idiot child. She shamed me until I pushed that part of myself so far down that it hasn't surfaced since. Her thumbs continue to rub along my lower lips, parting me gently. "I'm making you feel good. Is that okay?" She asks me. Is it? "Yes..." I say quietly. I'm unsure, but I want it. I want her.

Shelby tugs on the waistband of my shorts, making me lift my hips while she slides them down my tanned thighs. I hear them hit the floor somewhere on the other side of the room, but I don't really care about that right now. Not when Shelby grips onto my hips, urging me to get up on my knees. So, I do. I keep my chest pressed into the mattress, my face in the pillow, and lift my butt in the air until I'm up on my knees. I heard her mutter something about me having a cute pussy, I don't know. I think I'm delusional, but it makes me blush.

I feel her hands rub my bare butt, spreading my cheeks and spreading my lower lips. Her thumb starts rubbing my back hole, making me groan and lean into her touch. Why do I like that so much? I'm not prepared to find that out right now, not when her tongue licks a path through my sex until she flicks that bundle of nerves that has me arching into her touch even more. "Oh, you taste so good." She groans. I know I should feel embarrassed hearing someone tell me that, but I'm not. I like it, I love it, actually.

Shelby buries her face in me, I feel her nose poking at me, her tongue lapping up every drop that I give her, and her thumb slightly probing my back hole. It all feels so good, so good that I almost forget why I skipped lunch. I moan, loudly, and stuff my face into the pillow to muffle the sound. I'm biting onto my pillow like it's some kind of lifeline while Shelby treats me like her last meal before execution.

I feel the knot in my stomach getting tighter and tighter, my orgasm getting so close to the surface that I want to scream out in bliss. Stars dance across my closed eyelids, lighting up the otherwise darkness. Shelby pulls her face away from me, making me whine. But when two slender fingers replace her tongue and her lips wrap around my clit and start to suck gently. Finally, I feel myself fall, sending me into ecstasy on her tongue. She laps up every drop of my orgasm until my knees are shaking and I'm desperate to drop fully onto the bed.

"Don't you feel better now?" Shelby asks sweetly when she's done. I flop down onto my mattress, turning onto my side to stare at her with a raised eyebrow. Was that what this was? To make me feel better? Sure, it worked at the time. But now I'm just worried that this was a pity orgasm. "This was nice, but you can't tell anyone about this." She tells me.

That hurts a little, but I understand. If my mother found out what had just happened, she'd somehow find a way to have me kicked out of school. She doesn't give me a dime, in fact I had to take out student loans and take months applying for scholarships, but I'm sure she'd find a way to ruin my life because I'm interested in women. So, I agree. What choice do I have?

Chapter 11

Leon's POV

Maeve skipped her last class of the day. Maeve never skips class. What isma petitefleur up to? I lost track of her when that friend of hers caught up to her. Normally, they spend an hour or so in the dining hall, then part ways to their classes. Today, however, her and this friend walked back to Maeve's apartment together. I followed until I saw Maeve notice my car, fuck I can't get caught like this. I already feel like a fucking pervert following her around everywhere she goes. But I can't help it.

Last week, some asshole on the football team tried to follow her home. I saw him joking with his friends about it. I heard what they were saying, this asshole thought he could talk about my flower like that? Saying hippie bitches are hot and how they're usually freaks in bed. That was when he started to follow her. Not happening. Nobody touches her but me. He's still in my basement. I haven't decided what to do with him yet. If I kill him, I lose the rules I've set up for myself. I only kill those who abuse and hurt others, but to be fair, he sounded like he wanted to hurt my girl. At the very least, scare her.

I'm still torn on that one, so I haven't shown him my face in case I let him live. All he's seen is the flimsy Halloween mask I bought a few months back. Back when I was feeling low, debating kidnapping my girl and keeping her for myself. I talked myself out of it, but the more I think about it, I wish I had done it. Maybe by now, she'd be as in love with me as I am with her. Maybe not, maybe it's just wishful thinking. But it keeps getting harder and harder to resist her pull. It's getting harder to only get to watch her.

I definitely feel like a pervert sitting outside of Maeve's complex, waiting, watching. I need to see where she goes from here. Her schedule is usually so exact. Work, school, home. She always declines her friends' invites for dinner or drinks. She rarely goes with them for lunch off campus. Her budget is tight, from what I've noticed, she spends less on food a month than I spend on a single pair of pants. It's monthly, sometimes less, when she eats outside of the dining hall. I've had to resort to convincing students to tip her at work with my money, which isn't easy.