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Now he isn’t mine, and I’m not his. What we had is tainted by what happened Saturday night.
“God, she’s such a bitch,” Annabel says once we’re clear of Brook.
“She wants Cade,” I state.
“Well, duh. But pulling Bexley into it?” She gives me a pointed look. “You can’t let her get to you.”
“Easier said than done.”
Annabel glances away, chewing her bottom lip.
“What is it?” I ask.
“There was a party?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Electi stuff,” she says, a trace of hurt in her voice.
“You know I don’t want to be tangled up in all this.”
“But you are, and I know it sounds really selfish, but I can’t help but feel like you’ll leave me for them. You and Sasha are already—”
“No. No way.” I squeeze her hand. “Sasha is an ally, and I won’t lie, it’s nice to have her in my corner through all this. But trust me, I’d rather just be plain old Mia Thompson.”
She gives me a weak smile, and I want to say something to reassure her that I’m still the same Mia. But the truth is, I’m not. And whether I like it or not, there will always be things I can’t tell her.
In psychology, I choose a seat right at the back. I can’t explain it, but I need to know where Bexley is. I don’t want to feel his eyes on me for the entire class, begging, pleading. Because nothing is going to change the fact that he had sex with Brook. Nothing is going to erase the image of him thrusting into her, clawing at her body like he couldn’t get enough.
At least he thought it was me. He doesn’t have to live with the pain of knowing.
Except he does, a little voice whispers. He watched Cade touch me. He watched my body betray me, betray us both.
God, what is this nightmare I’ve found myself in?
I feel him before I see him. The air grows thin, as if it’s being sucked from the room. Bexley finds me and hesitates, but I shake my head. He can’t sit with me. If he tries, I’ll have to leave. I’m not ready to face him. It’s bad enough being in the same room as him.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I steel myself. I can’t keep letting my emotions get the better of me. If I’m going to play Cade at his own game, I need to toughen up. I need to learn to manipulate my feelings the way he manipulates everything and everyone around him.
Bexley winces, dejection flashing over his expression, but, to my relief, he seeks out an empty seat in another row.
I thought it would help, watching him instead of him watching me, but I can’t focus on a word the professor says. All I can see is Bexley and her. Together. Their naked writhing bodies. My fingers curl into a fist, my nails biting into my palm. It isn’t until I feel blood that I notice I’ve cut small crescents into my skin. Wincing, I dig some tissue out of my bag and clean my hands. The guy beside me shoots me a funny look, and I glower at him.
By the time the professor dismisses the class, my stomach is knotted so tightly I feel nauseous. I want to escape, to get far away from Bexley, but the girl at the end of my row is being so freaking slow at packing up her things. The second she leaves, I slip into the aisle, but Bexley is right there.
“We need to talk,” he whispers over my shoulder as we file out in the crush together.
“No, we really don’t.”
“Mia, come on. Don’t do this.”
“If I remember correctly, I didn’t do anything.”
The second we reach the door, he gently grabs my elbow and steers me aside, letting the rest of the students pass us. “Please, just hear me out.” Pain is etched into his expression, but I can’t do it. I can’t forget.
“I need to go,” I say, unable to meet his heavy gaze.
“Mia, please… this is killing me.” The room is empty now except for the professor, but he pays us little attention.
