Page 6 of The Price Of Possession

I give her a pointed look. “Vesper, no way. You better talk . . . ” She wiggles in her seat uncomfortably. She's never been afraid to tell me anything. She knows I can handle most stuff thrown at me.

She pleads with me. “Please. Give me time?” She flashes those puppy dog eyes. I sigh and nod.

“So, where is Zain?” I ask, scanning the doorway. Maybe if she won't give me answers, he will. She digs her laptop from her bag. She sets it neatly on the desk. “He didn't get good sleep last night. We're still working on that,” she admits. “Plus, he's meeting with Kieran after class. There's some stuff they have to go over,” she mutters.

Well, there goes that chance.

I nod. My hand drums along my notepad with trepidation. Kieran and I haven't spoken, either. Not since that night. It snapped something inside of me. It was so fucking confusing for me, I came back a second time despite all the red flags. Any logical person would have felt violated when he drugged me. Not me. He unleashed the side of me I had kept hidden. The part of me I've tried to snuff out. It's like he could see every fractured part I've tried to hide away.

He set me back in sobriety, too. I have no one to blame but myself, though. I control my actions. I could have made the wise decision not to accept drinks from strangers. That one encounter paved the way for bad decisions and haunting memories. It made me realize escaping my past is futile. Years I've spent outrunning my subsumed grief, just to fail time and time again. When I think I've reached the pinnacle, I tumble back into the clutches of my bad memories, falling back into the same unhealthy patterns. It's a coping mechanism. A shitty one I've suppressed to the best of my ability.

Her eyes dart over to my empty desk. “I thought you were getting a new computer?” Her brows shoot up.

I purse my lips and throw on a smile, forcing my thoughts to disappear. She doesn't need to know how broken I truly am. How poor and useless I am. My financial situation is in dire straits. I plan on finding some type of part time work in the coming weeks to fill the gap. I refuse to look like a charity case due to my background. These people would eat me alive if they had any inkling my upbringing was different from theirs. This is the most prestigious school on the east coast for Christ’s sake.

I tap my pen against the desk. “Just got busy. I'll handle it,” I shrug off. She gives me a pointed look but doesn't press further.

The tardy bell quiets the room. I pull my attention to the professor. He scribbles notes on the chalkboard for us to copy.

Just as I settle into the morning routine the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a crashing bang. Everyone quiets. Kieran stands there looking like the epitome of an eccentric, volatile beast. The room erupts in hushed whispers. I expect to see Zain trailing behind him, but remember Vesper mentioned to me he didn't sleep well.

His heavy, bloodshot eyes laser into me from across the room. Of course my eyes have a mind of their own. I scan over his baggy light washed jeans down to his brown Chelsea boots. His trucker jacket clings to his bulging biceps like a glove. A cruel smirk follows suit when he catches me staring. The arrogance. I sink deeper into my seat, rolling my eyes. The fucker has nerve, I’ll give him that.

He sweeps across the room like he owns the place. Being the dean's son, the professor says nothing and continues his lecture. Of course he slides in next to me. I redirect my gaze to the blank paper in front of me as if words will materialize on their own. My blonde hair falls over my shoulders, obscuring my face. If I thought that would keep him away, I was mistaken.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says with a sly smile. His hand reaches out to wrap around the ends of my hair. I want to slap it off his gorgeous face. It doesn't take a genius to realize Kieran is mercurial. It's so infuriating that he has to be gifted with an arrestingly burnished tenebrosity.

I crank my neck around and supply him with a contemptuous grin. I slap his hand. He leans back in his seat with a grin, showing casing his body. Vesper's eyes catch mine from her peripheral, waiting to intervene if necessary. I can take care of myself and she knows it. She loves mothering me. It's just easier to let her.

I lift my hand so she knows I'm fine. She goes back to typing away on her computer. “C’mon now, don't be like that.” His deep throaty voice rumbles. God, why is he so seductive and distracting! How is one man so effortlessly gorgeous?

I make the mistake of glancing over into his emerald eyes. The same eyes I let destroy me from the inside out. The same eyes that whipped me until I cried, bled and begged for mercy that never came. It's a plunge into the darkest depths. I'm afraid if I look too long, it will reveal all my secrets. He pushes my trauma to the surface and that's dangerous. I can't. He will drag me down into his hell.

My heart races. Heat filters over my body like a tidal wave. No. Not here. The onset of my panic disorder fizzles to the surface. I hate running away. It makes me feel weak.

I slam my notebook closed and jam it into my pink backpack. I spring up from my seat, trying to keep my shit together in the process. My sudden outburst draws attention from the entire classroom, but I block them out. The professor is calling out my name, but I stumble toward the exit, ignoring him, too. Once I reach the threshold of the hallway air returns to my lungs and I can finally breathe. I drop to my butt on the flagstone floor and grip my knees to my chest. The world around me disappears into nothing. Breath, Clara.

I slam my fist into the drywall next to the counter. Zain just stares at me. He can't say shit. He's added more holes than I can count to these walls. I've added one.

“Don’t man, just fucking don't.” I shake my head with a sneer. I'm not in the mood for his lectures about my impulses and bullshit. He thinks I'm a loose cannon. I can't say the guy is wrong.

He pulls out a cigarette, lights it and offers me one. He slides a lighter across the counter to me. Instead, I reach into my pocket for a joint. “You're impulsive. Never think shit through.” He shakes his head

and takes a hit. “Fuck you. All I did was say hi to the bitch!”

I light the joint and take a hit, letting the high commandeer my system. I flick the lighter open and place my hand above the dancing flame. The painful burn is a punishing reminder I can't escape. He knows good and well I did more than I'm letting on.

Zain watches me with renewed fascination. “You said this fuckin’ shit was fixable. Not trying to have Vesper a fuckin’ crying mess because you can't control the situation. You are the one obsessed with Clara.”

I scoff. “I don't owe you shit. I offered because I knew you gave a fuck about Vesper. I'm not obsessed with Clara. I fucked her. Twice. That's it. I said I'll fix it. Let me fucking fix it,” I bite. I slide the lighter back across the countertop.

Liar, liar, Kieran.

He pockets it and throws his head back in a maniacal laugh. “Don't act like she isn't your newest fixation. It’s more than a good fuck, Kieran. The bitch wants nothin’ to do with you, either. How fitting.”

He twists his switchblade along his thumb and forefinger holding back a laugh. I glower. I place my fingertips on both sides of my temples. “How about you worry about you, I'll worry about me. I'm not fixating, or whatever.”

I know it's a Goddamn lie. Looking into her icy blue eyes, she held the brokenness I'm drawn to. Just like the blonde woman who haunts my past. I chase it like a damn fiend. I don’t pretend I’m not a fucked up piece of shit. I am. Breaking others is my antidote. Its fucked, but it makes me feel better about my chaotic, fucked up self. I'm a real fucking winner. I never claimed to have healthy coping mechanisms.