Chapter 86 This is not an apology
SOMA
A nervous laugh breaks free from her. I’m only letting it go because she unknowingly corroborated Brynne’s story and exposed his personality to me. It’s not a coincidence he chose her to monitor me. It was as deliberate as all his previous actions had been. He took advantage of her feelings.
“Take care,” I tell her. “I have to go.”
Instead of heading to the cafeteria to face Sienna, I race to the annex. What if he’s using me? Sure, I had the last laugh this morning, but what if his newfound attraction to me is all part of a bigger plan?
The thought puts speed in my legs. When I reach the door, I realize I shouldn’t have come here without asking Sienna for her key. I twist the handle, expecting nothing, but it gives. Pushing the door open, I take a step inside.
Brynne stands by the shelf, reading a book with such intense concentration that I briefly forget why I’m here. When he finally notices me, he shuts the book and starts walking. Something in my expression stops him from fully closing the gap. He pauses in the middle of the room, his brows wrinkling as he observes me.
“Hey,” he says.
“You’re a user,” I say. His jaw twitches, but he doesn’t move. “You used Helga, and you didn’t even like her.”
Brynne’s stance relaxes, and he folds his arms across his chest. “It’s no secret that I don’t date. Why did she think she would be different?”
“You’re just a user.”
“As are you, Soma,” he mutters. My breath hitches, and he drops his book on the table. As he stalks toward me, he continues. “We are all users. You use my fingers to get off, and I’m not complaining.”
“What? That’s not true,” I protest. He arches a brow, and frustration bubbles so much in my chest that I utter the first words that come to mind. “I don’t want them inside me anymore.”
Standing right in front of me, he says, “But I do.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I yell.
How did this conversation get here? Why does it feel like he’s in control now? His fingers caress my cheek, the same hand lowering until they slide under my skirt. I tremble, my breath slowing as his fingertips graze my thigh.
Brynne tugs on my panties, letting the fabric drag between my folds. It’s a struggle to keep my mouth shut or remain standing when pleasure erupts in that spot.
“Give me this,” he whispers, pausing. I blink fast, trying to clear the haze that settles over me. “And I might tell you what’s wrong with me.”
“What?” I whisper. “Not everything is a bargain.”
“Then give it to me and ask nothing of me. Can you?”
I don’t know how we ended up in this position, but I move backward, each step deliberate until I’m pressed against something firm. He places a hand beside my head, the other one tipping my jaw forward. It’s almost like we’ve been teleported back to yesterday, but in different outfits.
His fingers brush my underwear again. “I want this.”
“Just because you say it doesn’t mean I have to do it,” I tell him. A look creeps into his eyes. I swear he’s trying to hypnotize me. My hands land on his chest to put some distance between us, however small. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“How?” he breathes.
“No, I will not walk around campus without any underwear because you’re crazy.”
“Then don’t let anyone know you’re naked underneath.” He cups my face, his fingertips caressing the outline of my lips. “Give it to me, Somi.”
“Soma,” I snap.
“I need it.”
His breath fans my lips. I try to think of ways out of this situation, but my brain goes blank. I exhale shakily, my hands lowering to slide the material off. He collects it with a smile that almost makes the madness worth it.
When he sniffs the fabric, I groan.
“You can’t keep hoarding my panties.”
He winks and pockets it. “Don’t worry. I’ll return it.”
“Whatever. Just… go.”
“You met me here,” he reminds me. “If anyone should leave, it’s you.”
There’s enough laughter in his words to let me know he’s joking, but the line hits too hard and wrong. What if this whole interaction is another joke to him?
Tears prickle my eyes. My mind is a mess, and my heart is worse. I want to have a day where I’m not analyzing every single one of his actions, wondering if it’s kindness or something else in play.
“Somi,” he breathes.
But I swat his hand away. “I bet the only reason you like being around me now is because you want something.”
He laughs, and it irks me. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Wrong? You won’t even apologize for hurting me,” I yell. A tear spills onto my cheek, and he reaches forward to swipe it, but I stop him. “If you will not apologize, don’t touch me.”
“Do you want to attend the ball with me?”
My heart skips. “That’s not an apology.”
“So it’s a no?”
“I hate you,” I spit.
His hands drop to cup my ass, and he murmurs, “That’s not what your body is telling me.”
“So what if my body likes you? Doesn’t mean I do,” I reply, trying to calm my heart. My breath hitches when he lets a finger inside me, twisting it so gently I choke on my next words. “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever.”
Pulling back, he shows me his wet finger before sucking it clean. He leans in again, one hand staying on my hip.
“Do you see those books on the table?” he whispers. The abrupt change in topic disrupts my train of thought. But I nod, more disoriented than ever. “If you’re trying to catch up for the mid-semester exams, that will help.”
His lips brush my cheek, and he steps back. I inhale shakily, as if having more air in my lungs will calm the contrasting emotions simmering in my chest.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll leave so you don’t have to.”
Brynne’s hand disappears into his pocket, appearing seconds later to place a familiar key on my palm. It’s his key to the annex. Why is he doing this? I watch him walk away, my heart struggling to understand what it’s feeling. I came in here to ask questions, but now, I’m even more confused than before I arrived.
When the door shuts after him, I stagger to the table. Among the pile of books on the wooden surface, I grab the one he was reading when I entered. On flipping it open, my chest tightens. It contains all the past questions for the past five years. I dump it and pick up another. It’s the same thing, but for a different course.
This is not an apology, I whisper repeatedly as my knees buckle, and I sink into the chair.