Chapter 27
Elena's POV
The dorm room was blessedly empty when I got back—my other roommates were still in class or somewhere else, and Lila would be at the recruitment fair for at least another hour. I locked the door behind me, dropped my bag on the floor, and climbed onto my bed with my phone clutched in both hands like it was evidence I should destroy but couldn't quite bring myself to part with.
The rational part of my brain screamed that I should delete the video, forget it existed, pretend that night had never happened. But the rest of me, the part that was apparently stronger and more reckless than I'd ever given it credit for, pulled up the video and hit play.
I watched it through once without pausing, my face buried in my pillow to muffle the mortified sounds I couldn't quite suppress. Then I watched it again, and again, each time zeroing in on different details I'd missed before.
I couldn't hear what he was saying—the audio was too distorted, the music too loud—but I could see his mouth moving, see the gentle quality to the way he looked down at me. And then there was the part where I'd tried to bite him, and he'd caught my face in both hands and pushed me back, holding me at arm's length.
He stopped me, I thought, staring at the frozen frame.
I buried my face in my pillow and let out a sound that was half groan, half whimper. "Oh God," I whispered into the fabric, my voice muffled and shaking. "He probably thinks I was trying to seduce him. He probably thinks I got drunk on purpose just to—" I couldn't even finish the thought, but it circled in my brain anyway, relentless and awful.
But then I made myself watch the final part again, the part where he'd lifted me into his arms, and I saw something I'd missed before. The way he'd tucked my head under his chin, so careful, so protective. The gesture looked unconscious, soothing. The way he'd carried me like I weighed nothing and mattered everything.
He didn't take advantage. I was drunk and throwing myself at him, doing things I would never do sober, and he didn't take what I was offering. God, I probably would have let him, in that state. But he didn't.
I thought about Damon, about what he would have done in the same situation, and my stomach twisted with something cold and certain. Damon wouldn't have stopped. Damon would have seen it as permission, as proof that I wanted him, and he wouldn't have cared that I wasn't sober enough to really consent.
I dragged the progress bar back to the moment when he'd touched my hair, smoothing it back from my face with fingers that trembled just slightly, and I hit pause. The frame froze on his expression—eyes soft in a way I'd never seen them, mouth curved in something that wasn't quite a smile but was tender nonetheless.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I nearly dropped it in surprise. Lila's name flashed across the screen, and I answered with my heart still racing. "Hey—"
"Get dressed and get downstairs," Lila said, her voice bright with barely contained excitement. "We're going out for your birthday dinner, and before you say no, everyone's already on board."
"Everyone?" I asked, confused.
"Hector's made reservations at that steakhouse downtown, you know, the ridiculously expensive one? And Ethan's coming, and—" She paused for effect. "Caleb's coming too."
My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive. "Caleb?" I said, and my voice came out higher than normal. "He's—you talked to him? He said yes?"
"Well, Hector talked to him, but yeah. He's in." Lila's grin was audible through the phone. "I'm already downstairs waiting, so hurry up! We're all meeting at your dorm in like ten minutes."
She hung up before I could protest, and I sat there staring at my phone for a good five seconds before the reality of the situation hit me. I was going to see him. Tonight. After watching that video approximately fifteen times and working myself into an emotional pretzel over every single frame. I was going to have to look him in the eye and act normal.
I scrambled off the bed and lunged for my closet, yanking out clothes with hands that wouldn't quite steady. The first dress was too formal. The second was too casual. The third made me look like I was trying too hard. I changed three times in as many minutes, finally settling on dark jeans and a soft sweater that was nice enough for dinner but didn't look deliberate.
My phone buzzed again—Lila texting that she was in the parking lot—and I grabbed my coat and my bag and headed for the door.
---
I pushed through the dorm's front door and stopped short. There, parked at the curb, was a sleek black SUV, and standing around it in various states of animated conversation were Hector, Ethan, and Lila. And there, standing slightly apart from the group with his hands in his pockets and his face turned toward the shadows, was Caleb.
I felt my feet slow, my body hesitating without my permission, because I didn't know how to do this. I didn't know how to walk up to him casually, like my insides weren't a tangled mess of longing and shame and confusion.
Then he turned his head, as if he'd felt my gaze, and our eyes met across the distance. I opened my mouth, reaching for words that wouldn't come. Then Lila was grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the car, chattering about the menu and the wine list.
Hector climbed into the driver's seat, and Ethan took the passenger side without a word, which left me sandwiched in the back between Caleb and Lila. The moment the doors closed, the scent hit me full force. In the confined space, his pheromones were concentrated, overwhelming.
It didn't help. My wolf wanted that scent, craved it like oxygen, and I found myself leaning toward him without meaning to, drawn closer like there was a physical cord pulling me.
I caught myself and sat back hard, pressing my spine against the seat and fixing my eyes on the window, but I could still feel him there, just inches away, his presence filling up all the empty spaces in my head.
Hector started the engine and began chattering about the restaurant, but I barely heard him. I dug my nails into my palms to keep from doing something stupid.
Why isn't he talking to me? The thought came unbidden, sharp and painful. Is he angry? Is he angry because this morning I didn't want Damon to see him?
Lila leaned close and whispered something I didn't catch, and I made some noncommittal sound in response, but my attention was locked on Caleb's profile. He was looking out the window, his features stark against the passing streetlights, and he hadn't said a single word to me since I'd gotten in the car.