Chapter 52 Garrett
Garrett
I didn’t want to go back upstairs.
I didn’t want music. I didn’t want people. I didn’t want anyone touching me.
I wanted to sit on that storage room floor and rot. But I couldn’t.
Not after that scene. Not after I’d made it clear that whatever that was between us was dead.
I needed Trisha now. More than ever. I needed the cover. I needed something solid to point at if anyone started asking questions. My family. Graves. The school.
That was probably the only reason I stayed at that goddamn party until she decided to leave.
That’s also the reason why, when she smiled at me and said, “Let’s grab a drink in your room,” I said yes.
And now we were there.
She was laughing about something that happened at the club—bless her oblivious heart—kicking her heels off, completely at ease. She came toward me like this was normal and kissed me.
Soft. Sweet. Confident.
I kissed her back because that’s what I was supposed to do.
She was so beautiful. An angel in red lipstick and fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. She pressed herself against me, and I felt… nothing.
Not disgust.
Not desire.
Just static.
Her hands lowered the zipper of my costume, and she smiled against my mouth, teasing me.
All I could think about was whether Aitor was kissing him right now too.
Whether my lion was somewhere a few rooms away, gorgeous, maybe still a little tipsy, maybe laughing.
Maybe letting someone else touch him—that someone probably Aitor.
Was Aitor guiding him the way he guided him through music?
Or was Aslan taking over?
Was he the one in command, pushing Aitor to his knees the way he had pushed me that night?
The thought made something violent flare in my chest.
Jealousy.
Anger.
And something darker that I didn’t want to name.
Trisha’s lips moved to my neck. Her fingers traced down my stomach. She whispered my name, and it sounded nothing like when he did.
I tried to focus. I really did, but all I saw was my lion, lying on that couch.
That studio.
Were they there right now?
Was he lying on that same couch?
The thought hit so hard I almost shoved her away.
“Garrett?” she laughed softly. “Where did you go?”
I blinked.
We were both half-naked by now.
What the…
Her hands were working over me through the thin costume.
And I just zoned out.
The latex pants were being ripped off me, and Trisha’s angel skirt was somewhere on the floor by the time she pushed me onto my bed.
Her hands were all over me as she was buzzing, a frantic, happy little energy I couldn’t feel.
“God, you’re so hot,” she breathed, her lips on my neck.
I let my head fall back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. I tried to focus on her. On the softness of her skin, the weight of her on my lap. It was fine. This was fine. I could do this.
I closed my eyes, trying to summon something—anything. But all I saw was him. Aslan. The feeling of his body against my own, the ghost of his mouth on mine…
A different heat started to coil in my gut, a real one, and I grabbed onto it.
For a second, the script flipped in my head. The power dynamic felt wrong. I was supposed to be in charge here. But with him, I wasn’t. The thought slipped out before I could stop it. “Tell me what to do.”
Trisha stilled. She pulled back, her red hair a mess, her brow furrowed in cute confusion. “What? Tell you what?” Her voice was high, questioning. It was like I’d started speaking another language.
The illusion shattered. Aslan was gone. It was just her. Just me. A fucking idiot. I forced a smirk, grabbing her by the hips. “Joking,” I grunted, and then I kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It was a punishment. My hands were rough on her breasts, squeezing, kneading, trying to force a reaction out of my own deadened body.
I guided her head down then, pushing her towards my crotch. “Suck it,” I ordered, my voice flat.
She did. Her mouth was hot and wet, and for a second, it was almost enough. I closed my eyes again, forcing the image of Aslan behind my eyelids. I remembered the weight of him on my tongue, the low groan he’d made, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair, holding me right where he wanted me. My dick twitched in her mouth, a betraying pulse of pure want.
Yeah. That was it. Just like that. I was getting close.
Then she moaned around me, a high-pitched, eager little sound that was all wrong. My eyes flew open. The ceiling was back. The fantasy was gone and the heat died instantly.
She kept going, her hand working my shaft, trying to pull me back to the edge, but it was useless. I was a stone. After another minute, she pulled off, wiping her mouth.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”
Panic flared. I couldn’t deal with this. “Too much to drink at the club,” I lied, sitting up. “Whiskey dick. Happens.”
I didn’t wait for her to argue. I just pull her by the waist—switching positions—and pushed her back against the pillows, yanking her legs apart, as I buried my face between her thighs.
I didn’t think, I just did.
I worked my tongue until it hurt, putting my fingers inside her to help move things along, a fast, hard rhythm designed for one thing: to get it over with.
True that I wasn't into girls really, but I still knew how to please them. After the institution, I had an intensive crash course with every girl that came across, just to prove I was on the right path.
I guess it'd paid off.
She was moaning again, her fingers twisting in my hair, and I just kept going, blocking it all out until she arched her back and cried out. The second she was done, I rolled off her, my back to her, staring at the wall. Alone. Just how I wanted to be. Miserable and fucking alone.
The next morning felt like punishment.
The whole school moved slower. Hungover. Quieter. Whispering about the night before.
I didn’t make much eye contact really, but I did glance at Aitor.
His expressions, whom he looked at, his mood…
Was he hiding something? Did he look happier today? Sleepless?
Did they leave together?
Did Aslan go back to his room?
Did they—
I swallowed it.
I had no right to ask.
“Hi, babe!” Trish showed up sitting on my lap with an apple. “I had a great time back in the room last night.”
“Me too.” I smiled and played my part, hoping she wouldn’t tell anyone how I couldn’t get it up.
Across from our table, I saw Aslan look down. Did he hear her?
Good. He had probably not been alone either.
After lunch, I was done pretending I didn’t care.
I found Aitor near the lockers and forced the words out before I lost my nerve.
“Sorry about last night. I was drunk,” I said flatly. “I had no right to corner your boyfriend.”
I made sure the word boyfriend came out casual but clear.
He didn’t answer immediately.
He just studied me.
He knew exactly what I was doing.
“He didn’t deserve that,” Aitor finally said.
That was it.
No correction.
No clarification.
No “he’s not my boyfriend.”
Just that.
And it fucking wrecked me.
“I’m having some family shit. I’m just stressed, I guess—”
“You have me, Garr,” he said softly, in the same selfless Aitor way I’d learned to love and need for as long as I could remember. “Just talk to me. It’ll always be you and me first, okay? I got your back.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder the way he’d always done, and I nodded before stepping back.
Then I knew I could never, ever hurt him. He was so much better than I was… and he would protect my lion the way I couldn’t.
Trisha appeared again a minute later, slipping her arm around mine with the biggest grin for all to see.
After classes, I passed Aslan and Aitor walking together toward rehearsal as I was holding hands with her.
Good. This is how it’s supposed to be.
I took Trisha to dinner that evening, as I had planned. Somewhere public. Somewhere that would make it real.
Halfway through dessert, I said it.
“Come to dinner tomorrow. With my family.”
She blinked at me.
“Dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“With your family?”
“Yep, they want me to have dinner with them, and I figured they might wanna meet my girlfriend.”
Her smile slowly widened. “Girlfriend? Are you asking me…?”
“Yeah,” I said.
And just like that, I sealed it.