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My panties are missing.
I’m sure I just tossed them on the floor before I went to bed last night. I was exhausted and in a mood, and I couldn’t be bothered to put my dirty clothes in the hamper.
I look around, confused, but then spy them next to me on the bed. They are most definitely not where I put them.
Heartbeat increasing speed, I pick up the scrap of material and frown. They should be silky and soft, but instead they’re…hard and crusty. Tentatively, I lift them to my nose and give a tiny sniff.
Eww.
I drop them again. What the actual fuck? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were covered in cum.
My mind blurs. How is that possible? I wasn’t exposed to any last night, was I? I think about how I watched Domenic orgasm. Did he get any on me then? Did he wipe the towel on my underwear? No, that’s impossible. I was wearing my jeans. I never even let him see my panties.
Maybe I’m imagining things. I was wet last night, being around the men like that. I must have been wetter than I’d thought—and the smell is my arousal, not cum.
I allow that possibility to settle inside me. I prefer that to the other possibility, which is that someone came into my room while I was asleep and deliberately came in my underwear. The thought of being vulnerable while someone did that is just too much to handle right now.
With tweezer fingers, I pick up the offending item and carry it over to deposit it in the hamper. I breathe a sigh of relief now it’s out of sight. I don’t want to think about it again.
I turn my thoughts back to my practice. I need it more than ever now. I have to stay calm and relaxed. Being Zen is important to my health, which kind of seems like a joke considering the madhouse my life has turned into.
An hour later, I slip into my first class.
Verity and her friends are already there. As usual, she shoots me daggers, but I just roll my eyes. I have far bigger things to worry about than a bit of bitchiness. I spot Camile, and she lifts her chin in acknowledgement.
“Hey,” she says as I claim the spare seat beside her. “How was the rest of your birthday?”
“It was great, though I didn’t do much. I just went to bed after I left the bar.” I’m lying to her, and I hate myself for it.
“Yeah, I was pretty shattered after, too. I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” She gives a big yawn as though to demonstrate how tired she is. “Oh, what did Tino give you as a present?”
My face warms at the memory, and I squirm inside. “It was a flash drive of his favorite songs.”
The lies are tripping so easily off my tongue, it’s as though I’ve convinced myself that they’re the truth.
Her eyebrows practically fly off her forehead they lift so high. “He gave you a…what…mixtape? What’s wrong with a Spotify playlist?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe he knew he couldn’t wrap that.”
“Well, well, well, isn’t Valentino a dark horse? I never thought he had a single romantic bone in his body. Are the two of you, like, an item now?”
I flap a hand at her. “No,” I scoff. “Definitely not.”
She doesn’t look like she believes this part of my lie.
“And what about the other two? I can’t imagine they’d be too happy about Tino claiming you on his own. Everyone knows the Devils share everything.”
I swallow hard. “They do?”
I can’t tell her. I just can’t. Not about how I came close to fucking Kirill, too, or about the video Tino made of me, or how Dom rubbed me over my jeans last night, how I thought they were going to assault me.
If I do, she’ll demand I do something about it. I’ll have to tell my mom or, even worse, Nataniele. It’ll blow everything up, and then what will Mom and I do? Where will we go? To live in our car, and beg for food, and pray the cops don’t figure out what I did? I can’t do that.
There’s another reason I can’t bring myself to say anything, too. A reason that lurks beneath the surface like a shark, silently swimming.
It’s shame.
Is it something about me as a person that attracts these kinds of men? Am I asking for it?
