Chapter 37 Garrett
Garrett
His eyes went wide as he stared at me, trying to process what I’d just asked.
When he finally smiled, my emotions shot up like a rollercoaster climbing its peak—only to plummet straight down when that smile broke into full laughter.
“You’re not serious, are you?” he chuckled, almost choking on it.
“I am,” I said, as calmly as I could manage.
He stopped laughing just as quickly. The humor drained from his face. He stared at me like I’d just confessed to murder, then threw the covers aside and got out of bed.
“Then that’ll be a no.”
I turned as he walked past me, brow furrowed, watching him pull on clothes and shove random things into his backpack.
“What will be a no?”
He spun around, outrage flashing across his face at my apparent stupidity. He stepped in close—too close. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, and all I wanted was to lean in and drink it in.
“Anything with you is a no,” he snapped. “Having you close is a no. Looking at your face is a no. Being within a hundred meters of you is a no. Talking, staring, touching—and especially fucking—is and always will be a hell of a no. Is that clear enough for you?”
He was running on pure adrenaline. With every sentence, he stepped closer, his chest brushing mine more than once.
And I wanted more of that.
Against my chest. Against my skin. Against my cock….
By then I was fully aware of it—the desperation, the need clawing at my insides. I just didn’t know if he could see it too.
“Why not?” I heard myself ask.
Holy shit.
Did I really just say that?
“Why?” he repeated, stunned. “Are you seriously asking me why?”
Apparently, yes.
His voice dropped lower, but the anger in it sharpened. “Let’s see, Garrett. You hate my guts. You bullied me and turned half the school against me on my first day. You insult me daily. You slept with one of my only two friends just so I couldn’t have her. You ridiculed me. Locked me in a storage room. Sabotaged my schoolwork. Rejected me more than once. And today? You punched me. Twice.”
Each word landed like a strike.
“So tell me,” he finished, voice tight with fury, “why on earth would I want anything with you? Or better yet—why the hell would you even ask me?”
Because you give me peace. Because you brought back a part of me I thought had been destroyed. Because only when I’m with you, I’m… me. I don’t really know why, but I do. I need what you give me. I need who you make me. You make me feel real. I’m real. I’m real.
But I couldn’t tell him any of that.
So I said nothing—swallowing yet another urge. The urge to bottle it all up. To bury it where everything else lived.
He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes that almost undid me. Sadness. The same kind I’d seen that night at the club.
Then, just like then, he grabbed his backpack and walked away.
I stood there, numb and conflicted. Too tired to go back to my room. Too scared to face the silence waiting for me there—my stack of therapy books lined up like commandments on the shelf, my leather-bound journals filled with forced gratitude and corrected thoughts, and the framed quotes my mother had insisted would “keep me centered.”
“Self-control is strength.”
“Discipline equals freedom.”
“Master your desires.”
My perfectly curated shrine to obedience. To progress. To the version of me she believed she had saved.
That version of me was dead tonight.
I walked back to Aslan’s bed and, without thinking too hard about it, lay down on it. He clearly wasn’t coming back tonight, and for once, I didn’t care about consequences.
The sheets still smelled like him. The covers held traces of his warmth.
I closed my eyes and let it all sink in. Let the thought of him settle into my bones. Let his quiet, stubborn peace seep into the cracks in my head.
And for the first time in days, I fell asleep.
Finally safe.
“I’m guessing, by the way you’re staring at him, that you thought about what we talked about? Made a choice?” Aitor whispered while the others went up for seconds.
“I’m not staring.” I looked down at my almost untouched fried chicken.
“You are.”
I was.
Aslan hadn’t shown up all weekend. He had nowhere to go in town—unless he’d gone with someone else. And by the way James had glanced at me more than a few times, I had a pretty good guess who he’d gone home with.
I was dying inside.
And he was over there smiling and laughing like some idiot at everything that came out of the jester’s mouth.
“Like, right now, bro,” Aitor muttered. “And he’s obviously not looking back, so… what did you do to him this time?”
“Me?” I scoffed, offended. “I did what you said. I followed your goddamn advice. Which, by the way, sucked.”
“I don’t get it. What the hell did you decide?” Now he sounded genuinely curious, which irritated me even more.
I looked at Aslan again—relaxed, content, like nothing had happened—and something ugly twisted in my chest.
“I decided to talk to him. To apologize—”
Which I had just realized I never actually did.
“—I figured I’d propose a truce.”
Which had somehow turned into me asking if he wanted to sleep with me. Minor detail. Potato, po-ta-to.
“And?” Aitor lowered his voice as the others sat back down.
“And he said hell no.” I took a bite of my food like it didn’t matter.
Aitor arched an eyebrow. “So you’re going to tell me the missing part of that conversation?”
“No.”
“I thought so.” He leaned back. “So you’re done?”
“Yep. He can go to hell. I’ve got better things to do.” I said loud enough to carry.
The bell rang.
“Okay,” Aitor said evenly. “Good to know.”
Good to know, or good to hear? Did he want the green light?
It didn’t matter. I’d made a fool of myself once. Twice. I wasn’t doing it again.
I dumped the rest of my food in the bin and walked toward self-defense.
Five minutes later, I was standing one inch from his face.
What the—
We were lining up to choose partners. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into my space before anyone else could.
“You and I are pairing up today, lion,” I murmured, low enough that no one else could hear.
His jaw tightened.
“I thought you had better things to do,” he shot back quietly.
“I do,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to make a point. “This is one of them.”