I look at the lock of hair that’s fallen out of the edge of his fuzzy hood.
Golden hair.
Dark blond at the roots with streaks of golden blond, a little shaggy, like he had a preppy cut but now he’s letting it grow out a little.
Kind of like someone else I’ve seen growing out their hair a little this semester.
Someone who usually acts like he has a rod shoved right up his ass.
Like a fucking sheriff, who acts untouchable. Like he’s better than the rest of us.
There’s no mistaking it now. He has that same impossibly thick hair that’s kissed with blond, in a swoop he pushes to one side.
Just like Knox.
Wes.
Fucking.
Knox.
“No fucking shot, Weston,” I say under my breath.
3
Weston
My hand is shaky as I reach up to the bottom of my mask and slowly start to push it back.
Sevan Berlant’s wanted to fuck me up for years already, and now I’m certain he’s actually going to.
But as I’m pushing back my mask he reaches out, slapping at my wrist.
“Don’t take that off.”
“Sev, I already fucked this up. I’m taking off the mask.”
“Nope,” he says, grabbing the lower edge and pulling it back down until it’s just above my mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“You don’t get to make demands anymore.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re going to get on your knees.”
I let out a long breath. “This isn’t good.”
Sev looks me in the eye, regarding me coldly.
“Mhm. Not good at all.”
By the time he slides off the edge of the mattress, he’s already reaching for the button at the top of his pants.
My heart pounds hard in my chest, and suddenly it feels like the room is spinning around me.
I’m flitting back and forth between raw fear and defiance.