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MIA
It’s been days since Zeke got me off in my room. My fantasy came true, a fantasy I’ve had more times than I can count. Now I know what it’s really like to have him walk into my room and take control. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t have to ask myself how it would feel for him to catch me touching myself. I didn’t plan it to go that way—I couldn’t sleep. I tried everything I could until finally, the idea of coming seemed like the only other option. I always sleep well after an orgasm.
I would’ve slept well after that one, too, if it hadn’t been delivered by him. If it hadn’t opened a whole vault full of questions and worries.
The way he’s been acting since then hasn’t exactly helped things, either. We’re right back where we started, with any ground we made up over these past several weeks vanishing. He barely looks at me and doesn’t do much more than grunt when I ask questions. When we’re back at the condo, he’s either working out downstairs at the gym or sitting out on the balcony. What he’s doing out there, I don’t know. I can’t help but wonder if it’s all a way to stay away from me.
And I don’t understand why. It was good. He enjoyed it, and there was no question whether I did or not. It’s not like I broke down and cried or, even worse, threw myself into his arms and told him I loved him or anything like that. Is that what’s worrying him? That I’ll read more into this than there actually is?
If I knew that was true, I would tell him he has nothing to be worried about. I don’t want anything from him. And I’m not going to get him in trouble—that’s the last thing I want to do. And not only because I would be in trouble, too, even though I know I’d be forgiven. I’m sure Dad would blame it all on him, like he tricked me or seduced me.
Nothing could be further from the truth, but he wouldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t want to. It would be easier to make it into a cut-and-dried situation.
It would mean never seeing Zeke again, and I don’t want that, either.
He’s sitting directly behind me. I feel his eyes staring holes into the back of my head through those sunglasses he insists on wearing everywhere. I’m starting to wonder if they help him keep watch over the people around me without them being able to tell—they can’t see the direction his eyes are moving in, and he’s very good at keeping his expression neutral. Almost scary good. I’m starting to understand better why Dad picked him for this job. To call him intimidating would be a massive understatement.
Why the hell won’t he tell me what he’s thinking? Why won’t he give me the slightest clue?
And why can’t I shake the sense of everybody knowing what happened between us? There’s no way they could know. I don’t know what they do at night in their rooms, do I? It’s my guilt. I’ve never gone that far with any guy all this time, not ever. And I’ve wanted it to be him since the day we met. So why do I feel so bad about it?
Because I don’t know how he feels. As simple as that. If he would only tell me it was no big deal, I could get over it.
Well, if he’s going to go back to the way things were and leave me hanging, maybe I can get a reaction out of him some other way.
I lean over the empty seat between me and a guy who looks like he might be napping behind his open laptop. “Did you hear him say which chapters will be covered on the exam? I missed it.”
He sits up a little straighter and tries to make it look like he’s been awake this whole time. “Uh, no. I missed it, too.” Right, because you were sleeping, dumbass. Then again, it’s the first class of the day, and most of the other students look sleepy. Not everyone is as much of a nerd for school as I am.
“Maybe it’s on the syllabus? Do you have it with you?” I lean in a little more, and his eyes immediately go straight to my cleavage. Because, of course, they do. It really is too easy.
Is it my imagination, or did something hit the back of my chair? Like a foot, maybe? Zeke didn’t exactly kick it, but he definitely jostled it. I ignore him, instead smiling wide at the stranger to my right.
A stranger who is extremely flustered now. “Um, maybe. I’m not sure…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” I give him another little smile and look him up and down like I approve. He’s wearing clothes he probably slept in, but I’ll pretend that’s hot for the sake of driving Zeke out of his mind. He deserves it for what he’s putting me through.
I settle back in, staring straight ahead, and I’m glad he can’t see me grinning.
He doesn’t say anything about it after class, which only sets my teeth on edge. What do I have to do? Flash an entire classroom? Maybe then he’d say something. And I bet it would have something to do with my father, too. How Daddy dearest wouldn’t like it. I swear, it’s almost enough to make me wonder if I imagined that whole experience in my room.
But there’s no way. Because even in my wildest fantasies, I never imagined him coming on me.
And I sure as hell never imagined liking it. Between that and the spanking thing, he’s teaching me a lot about myself. I’m not sure how to feel about it, and there’s nobody I can talk to.
Not even with my new friends in sociology, which is the class immediately after world history. I haven’t seen any of them since last week, though Posey and I have been texting. I know she’s not going to grill me when we see each other.
Dean is another story. “There you are. I was starting to think something happened to you.”
It’s sweet, especially in the absence of any kindness from Zeke. I can’t believe how starved I am for the slightest bit of kindness. “I’m sorry for freaking you out. You know, you have my cell number. You could text me if you wanted.”
“Are you kidding? I was afraid Frankenstein would come after me.” He’s not even subtle about turning around to look at the back of the room, where Zeke took his customary seat by the door as soon as we walked in.
“Don’t start anything, okay? Please.” I roll my eyes while setting up my laptop. “And you can text me anytime. Things just didn’t work out on Friday.” I’m glad the instructor starts her lecture because I don’t feel like getting into it. It’s one thing for Posey or Zoe to care, but guys are a different story. They get all up in their egos. Like I’m a damsel needing to be saved.
After a half-hour lecture, we break up into our groups to discuss our project. I did a lot of research over the weekend and can’t wait to share it. It’s better than obsessing over Zeke, too. “I just sent the three of you the link to the Trello board I put together with my research: articles, photos, videos. I plan on adding more to it after class.”
Posey lets out a whistle. “Damn, girl. And I thought I was type A about stuff like this.”
