Chapter 10 Garrett
Garrett
I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did.
But then again—do I ever?
I’m not a thinker. I’m a doer.
When I get an impulse—insane, irrational, self-destructive—I don’t sit around analyzing it like some therapist’s favorite little case study. I don’t journal about it. I don’t pray on it. I don’t ask myself if it’s “healthy.”
I just do it.
And lately my impulses had been… loud.
Which was why, when I saw Aslan Rivers flirting, boring to death, or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing with Trisha, I acted.
Not because I gave a crap about her. I mean… she was hot, I guess. Loud in all the right ways. Built like the kind of mistake people make on purpose—but not me. Not over her, at least.
And sure as fuck, not over him.
This wasn’t about attraction; this was about defiance.
It was about them rubbing it in my face—like he hadn’t been warned. Like the Silver Star meant nothing. Like he could laugh with James and play dates with Trisha and still walk around my school with that stupid calm confidence, like he wasn’t marked.
Like I didn’t exist.
At first, I was going to talk to her. That was the plan.
Ask her what her “intentions” were, like I owned him or something. Which… I didn’t. Obviously. But then she checked me out. Really checked me out… and I figured—why the hell not?
Both my heads had been confused lately, and it was time to remind my system which way we swung. Time to drag my reputation back where it belonged. Time to put everything back in check. And Trisha? Trisha was the type to brag. I didn’t even have to try. By the end of the day, half the school would know. Aslan included.
My name would be clean again. My image locked back into place. And the little lion? He’d be devastated. That was the point.
What I didn’t count on was him showing up. Spying on me like some pathetic little stalker, peeking through the greenhouse window like he had a right to watch anything I did. The moment I looked up and saw him there—those amber eyes wide, frozen, staring—my first instinct was to smile.
To make it worse. To show him exactly what he was messing with.
So I did. I kept going, shamelessly, holding his gaze the whole time like I was carving the lesson into his skull.
Yeah. Look at me. Look at what you’ll never have.
And for a few seconds, it felt good. It felt powerful. It felt like winning.
But then the high faded, and something deeper crawled up from my gut—slow, sick, ugly. At first, I thought it was guilt or shame. Which was laughable, because I didn’t do guilt. And I definitely didn’t do shame.
But what I felt wasn’t that.
It was a pang of… disappointment. A tightness. A sting that had no business existing in my body. Like something I wanted had been taken from me before I could even touch it. And then—worse—this flash of sadness that made my throat feel thick and my chest feel too small.
What the fuck.
I shoved it down instantly. Buried it. Because I wasn’t about to stand there and analyze my feelings like a bitch.
Still—when it was over, and Aslan didn’t move, didn’t look away, didn’t run—I met his stare through the glass, my heartbeat too loud in my ears, his expression suddenly as conflicted as mine.
And my mouth did what it always did when my emotions got too close.
It went cruel.
“What the hell are you looking at, freak?”
The words came out sharp enough to cut.
Trisha startled like she’d been slapped.
Her head whipped toward the window, and the second she saw Aslan, her face drained of color so fast it was almost impressive.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Then she scrambled—clutching at herself, fumbling for her clothes, grabbing anything that could cover her. Her eyes were huge. Panicked.
I pushed away from the glass and walked straight to the door, yanking it open.
Cool air hit me. So did Aslan’s presence—too close, too goddamn intense.
He stiffened, thinking I was gonna hit him, and that thought pleased me more than it should have.
I stepped out, still not bothering to cover myself up, letting him deal with that discomfort. Letting him stew in it.
“I asked you a question,” I said.
Aslan swallowed. His gaze snapped upward fast—like he was physically forcing himself to look at my face and not my cock.
It was subtle, but I caught it, and it lit something viciously curious inside me.
“I didn’t come here to spy,” he said quickly. “I was—”
His eyes darted past me toward the field.
“I was going to see Tempest.”
I scoffed. “Yeah? And the greenhouse was just… a scenic detour?”
“I heard noise,” he snapped. “I thought it was staff.”
His cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or humiliation or something else. Probably all three.
“And I don’t give a fuck what you do,” he added. “Or who you do it with.”
Trisha raised her eyes to meet his.
“Aslan, I—I…” She sounded like she was choking on the apology. “I’m sorry—”
She looked at me with regret and lowered her head.
“Oh, wait, were you like… interested?” I faked remorse. “You can have her back, by all means… she means nothing to me.”
Trisha exhaled shakily behind me, still frozen, and probably realizing she’d just walked into our private war.
Aslan's expression shifted—confusion flickering across his face.
“What the hell is your problem?” he hissed. “You hate me. Fine. You made that clear. But why do you have to be such an asshole to everyone else?”
“Because I can.”
I smiled. Slow and cruel, taking a step closer and suddenly invading his space—my dick almost brushing his crutch.
There was a string of cum still hanging from the head, and his eyes inadvertently watched it stretch and drop onto his old shoes.
He immediately stepped back, flinching. His face distorting slightly… as if I were toxic. As if my naked body offended him.
“Are you disgusted by me?” I tried to mask the stupid weight in my chest. “The sight of another guy's cock?”
He swallowed and shook his head, trying to ignore my dick twitching against his pants.
“No. I am not disgusted by you, Garrett. I'm just indifferent. And if you're so desperate for attention that you need to do this, then I pity you.”
That snapped me right out of whatever weird challenge I was trying to pull off.
How the fuck dared he?
Pity me?
My blood boiled inside my veins as I took a step back.
“Get out of my fucking life.” I growled. “I don’t fucking want you here,”
“Why?”
I raised my hand, still coated with remnants of my release, and slowly wiped it across his chest, smearing my cum on my black shirt in sure, deliberate movements.
His mouth dropped opened—anger filling those pretty eyes, but also something else I couldn't quite put my finger on….
“You don’t belong here, little lion,” I said, each word deliberate. “And if you stay…” I smiled, and it wasn’t nice. “I’m going to make sure you’re so tamed by the end of the year you won’t even remember what it felt like to bare your teeth at me.”
Silence.
Aslan’s breathing went shallow.
Trisha let out a tiny sound like she’d forgotten how to breathe.
I didn’t care. I held Aslan’s stare until I saw it—the split second where his bravado threatened to crack.
Then I turned back toward the greenhouse.
“Get dressed,” I snapped at Trisha, like she was my responsibility. Like she was anything at all.
And as I walked away, I told myself the same lie I’d been clinging to since day one.
This wasn’t obsession.
This was control.