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Fuck it.I act on impulse.
Before I can think anything through, I take a step toward Vito. His eyes widen just a smidge, and his lips part in surprise as I push up on my tiptoes, close my eyes, and press my mouth against his.
Oh, shit. I’m kissing Vito.
He doesn’t pull away, which I half expect. His lips are soft and inviting against mine, but there is nothing else there, no spark, no butterflies, no warm and fuzzy feelings. Just two lips touching.
Neither one of us moves, too shocked by what I’m doing. My mind is going at a million miles per hour, confused, shocked, and a little scared by the consequences of my actions. I’m about to pull away when someone else does it for me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Quinton growls from behind me. The deep, gravelly sound of his voice holds rage and promises retribution. He grabs me harshly and pulls my back against his chest, knocking all the air from my lungs.
My eyes fly open just in time to see Vito smirk with satisfaction. Next thing I know, I’m spun around and picked up by my hips. Quinton throws me over his shoulder, leaving me hanging upside down and grabbing onto his shirt for support.
He stamps off in a fit, my body bouncing on his shoulder with each step. I lift my head enough to get one last look at Vito. He is standing in the hall with his hands tucked in his pockets. The smile remains on his lips as he watches me being carried off caveman style.
Ugh.I want to tell Quinton to put me down, yell at him, pound my fist against his back, but I know he is furious right now, and that means I better let him cool off before I say anything.
It doesn’t matter that he has no right to be angry with me, and I have all the right to be furious at him. Quinton makes his own rules, and if I don’t follow, I’ll have to pay the price. That doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy on him.
He carries me all the way to my room without either of us saying a word. Kicking the door shut after us, he drops me on my bed unceremoniously, making me bounce on my mattress.
My entire body goes rigid, bracing for what’s coming. I expect him to be on me any second, grabbing my throat, tearing at my dress, demanding control, and my complete submission.
“Go to sleep and do not leave this room again tonight,” he orders, then spins around and heads back toward the door.
My mouth pops open, my jaw hanging slack as if I’ve lost the ability to move it at all. I blink slowly, wondering if this is some kind of alternative reality. It has to be. Any moment now, I’ll be sucked back into my universe.
Quinton’s steps falter a foot away from the door. Looking over his shoulder, he asks, “Did you hear me?”
My mind snaps back into what I’m now certain is reality. “Why do you care what I do? I don’t owe you anything.”
“No? You owe me nothing? I guess you can pack your shit and move back to your old room.”
“I didn’t ask for this. You can’t do something nice for a person and then tell them they owe you.”
“I can do what I want.” Quinton’s words might be that of a bratty child, but his voice is that of a powerful man who can indeed do as he pleases. No one will even attempt to stop him… only me.
“Clearly! You do what you want, no matter who gets hurt in the process.”
“I didn’t play that video for everyone to see if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“Maybe not, but you are the one who did it to me. You are the one who forced his dick down my throat while your friends were watching. You knew about the video, and you told Matteo you didn’t care who saw it. And you are the one who made me go to the stupid party today, where I was humiliated in front of the entire school!”
By the time I’m done with my speech, my throat is painfully raspy because I basically screamed the last sentence. Still, I feel a little better now that it’s out.
After my outburst, the room falls into an eerie silence. Again, Quinton’s behavior is throwing me for a loop. Judging by the way his hands are balled into tight fists, his knuckles white, and his arms shaking, I wouldn’t say he is calm, but he isn’t moving either. Normally, Quinton is rash with everything; his anger and need for dominance, uncontrollable. He might look like he is about to punch something, but the fact he hasn’t yet is throwing me off.
“Go to sleep, Aspen,” he orders, his voice so low I can barely hear it from across the room.
“That’s it? Go to sleep?” I should probably just keep my mouth shut and let him go, but when did I ever choose to be quiet? I never learn.
“Yes, that’s it. You’ve already said everything. Laid out all the things I’ve done to you. I won’t deny any of it because it’s all true. I hurt you, I humiliated you, and I took things from you that you didn’t want to give, but I also saved your ass more than once, and let’s not forget, I got you this room. Now, lie down, shut up, and go to sleep.”
And with that, he leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
I remain sitting on my bed and gawking at the door for several more minutes, almost positive that this is all an ill-mannered joke, and he’ll waltz back in here any moment.
When nothing happens, I force myself off the bed and into the bathroom, where I peel the dress off my body and get into the shower.
I turn on the spray, letting the hot water warm my chilled skin. Now that I’m left with silence, the events from earlier are running through my mind on replay.
Everyone saw.
Their voices calling me names ring in my ear, and the dirty looks they gave me play in front of my eyes. I want to forget all of it, but I can’t make it stop. I wish I could distract myself, but whatever I do, my thoughts are pulled back to how I was humiliated beyond measure.
Every time I think this place can’t possibly get any worse, that’s exactly what it does.
