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“Guess she’ll do anything for a bit of attention,” Crystal adds, her snicker slicing through the air.
“Pathetic,” Cass adds, while Sasha agrees loudly.
“Ditching her friends for some rich guys. There’s a word for that.”
Their betrayal stings, a thousand needle pricks to my already scarred trust. I keep walking, my head held high, but each word is a weight added to the wall I’m rebuilding around me. Damien’s side glance is a silent question or maybe an offer of solace, but I can’t read him.
“Thought your presence was supposed to protect me from this bullshit.”
He sighs. “Your friends are not part of this other side. They don’t know the lengths we will go to in order to protect you.”
“Please don’t hurt them,” I whisper, panic hitting my chest. “They’re just hurt by these rumours that I burned the house down and ruined their lives.”
His gaze pierces mine. “Your compassion never ceases to amaze me.”
“Amaze you? You look like that stone gargoyle up there, Damien. Zero expression.” My irritation at his attitude is firing my cylinders. In a world where I know nothing, I want some fucking answers. He owes me that much, I think.
He doesn’t answer right away. When he does speak, his voice is soft, barely above the hiss of derision that follows us. “Ever, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” I echo, the word tasting like ash. I want to rage, to scream, to demand answers. But all the fight leaves me as quickly as it rose. Instead, I let the silence wrap around us again, cold comfort as we navigate the treacherous waters of rumours and lies.
We walk on, a study in contrasts: Damien, the stoic Guardian of the campus, the one who watches over the west, and me, the girl caught whose life has been ripped to shreds with no idea how to sew it back together and wondering if there is even any point in trying.
“Damien,” I say, stopping abruptly, forcing him to face me. “Did I... did I do something wrong?” My voice cracks, betraying the turmoil inside. Seems there’s a bit of fight left in me after all.
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing and the distant echo of footsteps. His grey eyes, usually so guarded, flicker with something I can’t quite name.
“Ever,” he starts, and there’s a heaviness to his tone that sinks right into my bones. He leaves the sentence hanging, unfinished, and the space between us feels like a chasm I can’t cross. “This isn’t about you.”
I want to believe him—I need to, but doubt is a persistent shadow, darkening every thought. “Then what is it about?” I ask, desperate for a truth that will make sense of the chaos.
He reaches out to trace a line down my cheek before pulling away, and I fight the urge to grab his hand and hold on to him.“Things are moving fast, too fast for me. I need a minute to catch up.”
“Too fast foryou?” I baulk at him and the audacity.
He smiles sadly. “When we sat in your room, kissed and held each other, we were on equal footing. That has shifted now, and I need time to come to terms with that.”
It takes me a few seconds to grasp what he is talking about. I choke back the noise of indignation.
“Are you serious? You’re blaming me for not being a virgin anymore?”
His eyes go wide with shock. “What? No. I mean... no.” His final word is punctuated by a finger jab to the ground.
“Sounds like it to me.”
“It’s not that. We were the same, and now we’re not. When you take me, you will have already done that, and it will be different.”
“When I take you?”
He looks down. “If that’s what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want,” I reply honestly. “I don’t even know what the options are.”
“Then ask.”
Letting out a bitter laugh, I shake my head. “How easy for you to say.”
“I choose this. I choose you,” he says, and his hand finds mine, his grip firm and cool. “You don’t need to choose.”
