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He has late practice before the game tonight.
Ever since the day of his dad’s anniversary a few weeks ago, something has changed between us.
I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel it in the way he watches me, the way he seizes every chance to kidnap me somewhere out of view, yank my skirt up, and fuck me.
It’s as if he can’t get enough of me. And the more he does that, I can’t seem to get enough of him either. It’s like I’m caught in a maze with no way out.
He still sneaks into my room every night, no exceptions. He still takes me to that club. My favourite part about it isn’t the watching — though I love that — it’s the fact that we wear masks where no one can tell who we are.
At first, I looked over my shoulder, expecting someone to recognise us, but that anxiety withered away with time.
In La Débauche, I get to touch Cole and even let him kiss me in front of other people without worrying that we’ll be on the headlines the following day.
If anything, Cole recognises most of the people we watch. Even though they wear masks, he sometimes plays a quiz with me to guess that politician’s/influential figure’s/CEO’s name.
The game is simple — with every wrong guess, he gets something from me. Since I always lose, I usually end up against one of the sofas as he eats me out or fucks me until my voice turns hoarse.
Needless to say, all of Cole’s games lead back to sex. Seriously. He comes up with all sorts of schemes that result in me naked and splayed out or tied up.
If he’s sick and I secretly love the devious ways he takes me, what does that make me?
I guess we’ll never know, because I would never tell him I enjoy what he’s doing to me. It’s not about him and me; it’s about Papa, Mum, Helen, Frederic — who would kill me if Papa doesn’t — and the world, basically.
Cole and I are in a particular category and we simply can’t jump to another one.
As much as I’m careful so no one picks up on our relationship in public, I always feel like maybe someone will. Maybe someone will notice the way I absentmindedly watch him when he’s practising, or when he’s reading alone in the school’s garden.
Maybe someone will know I don’t shoo all those girls away because of the family image, but because the idea of him touching anyone else makes me a red bull.
It’s hard for me to show a facet of myself when, on the inside, I’m scratching at it, wanting to rip it away and be set free. That part of me wants to let Cole kiss me in public, to call him mine in front of the world while giving them the middle finger.
But that part is an idiot.
That’s not how the world works — especially not the one we live in.
This won’t only ruin our future, but also our parents,’ and for that reason alone, I know whatever Cole and I have will never last.
It’s a fling.
An adventure.
And like any adventure, there will come a day when it’ll eventually end.
Something in my chest constricts at that thought, but I shake my head, pushing it away.
He’ll get passive-aggressive today. He always is whenever I spend nights with Mum.
She hasn’t been doing that well lately, so I’m visiting, even if it’s not the weekend.
Truth is, I’m not really that selfless. While I do it to make sure she’s fine, I also do it to take time out from Cole.
Sometimes, it gets too raw and too…much. Sometimes, when I wake up and don’t find him beside me, tears come out of nowhere.
And that’s not okay. That’s not how flings are supposed to work.
So I detox at Mum’s.
It’s useless, though. The moment I go back and he takes out all the lost nights on my body, it’s like I’ve never been away.
