“Make sure it loops,” I say as I take a sip of my double espresso. “I want it to echo.”
Ted looks up, a grin plastered on his face. “Anything else? This will get you in some trouble.”
I smirk at that, and with a lazy shrug, I respond, “Trouble is exactly what I’m looking for.” Pointing a finger his way, I make my only demand. “Make sure it doesn’t come back to you.”
Ted gives me an incredulous look. “You think I’m some amateur?”
“Dunno,” I say in a flat tone, taking another sip of my espresso. “Just trying to keep the heat off you, Teddy.”
He snorts at that, his fingers already flying across the keyboard, doing whatever it is tech bros do. All I know is that he does good work and I pay good money for it. I lean against the wall, watching the screen flicker within the frames of his glasses. Allison’s face pauses on the screen, her mouth parted as she looks back at Mr. Roberts with heavy eyes.
“That’s the money shot,” I say, pointing at the screen. “Make it a thumbnail. And actually… Maybe make your own post.”
The clicking comes to a stop. “Like that drama post?” he asks, eyes gleaming.
I nod. “Exactly like that drama post.”
He grins, already focused on what he needs to do, and I trust that, as always, he will execute it perfectly. Mindlessly, I continue to sip my drink, trying to keep my shaky hands steady as the jitters take over my body, making me feel like I’m tingling all over. This isn’t about just Allison. Or Mr. Roberts, fuck it’s not even about E.
Okay…
Maybe it’s a little about E… and it’s because I know he’s hiding something. There’s a sleeper asset I can’t see, and that bothers me. More than the scandal or fallout that’s going to come from all this. A video like this will go viral, I’m sure of it, and that kind of viral doesn’t just trend. It fucking infects. Making sure that I’m on time for this morning's assembly, I leave shortly after giving Ted some more instructions and hearing about his new finding, which isn’t much.
The auditorium is packed, and the smell of all the different perfumes and colognes fills my lungs with each inhale I take. It’s nauseating and suffocating.
Girls brush past me on purpose, batting their lashes when I give them crooked smiles. I’m stopped by one of the cheerleaders, a blonde I used to sleep with when I used to crush on Shiloh.
“Are you going to be up for auction?” she asks as her finger trails along my arm. I shake my head no. I won’t be participating because I will be purchasing. The moment I heard Zayden was up for auction at the Gods and Goddesses Valentine’s Day Gala, I backed out. The auction rule is that you own the person for a day. The only rule is that everything is consensual, or so they say.
It’s really not; nothing is free will when you’re the one paying the price.
They continue to talk about the dance and who will be there. I let them touch me, smiling just enough to keep the illusion intact. It’s easier to sell them the flamboyant Playboy ThiagoSafra, not the mess that hides behind the mask. This is the only way I can distract myself from what’s really happening. But even that doesn’t seem to work. Even surrounded by beauty, my gaze finds onlyhim.
Zayden.
He sits beside Nico, slouched low in his seat, making himself smaller—though it’s impossible. He’s the moon in a world full of darkness, impossible not to find, impossible not to want. Memories of the other night scorch my brain, impossible to blink away. Zayden bites his nails, and my hands twitch with the urge to still them within mine, knowing it will ground him. His anxiety must be at an all-time high; he hates large crowds and close spaces. And right now, he’s right in the center of it.
Worst of all… I can’t look away.
Nico’s hands move as he talks to him, probably trying to keep him from panicking. An ugly twist coils in my stomach, bitterness rising up my throat, souring my mouth. I envy them and their relationship. I resent that it’s Nico who can help him in a way I can never. If he’s the moon, I’m the sun—close enough to burn and too far away to hold. Zayden’s eyes are locked on his phone screen, his jaw tight and knee jumping. The lights dim, and the room goes quiet. The students find their seats as the curtains pull back, revealing a grey screen.
Ms. Torres clears her throat, a calculated demand for our attention, standing behind the podium in a grey pencil skirt and white blouse.
“Good morning, everyone. I want to thank you for showing up today for what I believe is the most important conversation we can have on campus. Sexual safety isn’t just a policy—it’s a responsibility. One we all share. One we take very seriously here in Villalargos.”
I can’t hold back my eyeroll when she pauses and scans the room with a practiced smile. “We’ll be discussing boundaries,consent, and the importance of mutual respect. Because no matter who you are, no matter your status, no one is above accountability.”
My eyes roll again. This is pointless.
How ironic that it’s her leading an assembly about Sexual Safety, when she’s the one who breaks the number one rule. Teachers can’t fuck students. And yet, her fingers were knuckle deep inside Fabiola.
Today, she will learn what happens when you play with fire. What happens when you get too close and reckless. Ms. Torres' fingers tap the edge of the podium, and she continues. “And let me be clear—this isn’t about punishment. It’s about protection. It’s about creating a space where every student feels safe, heard, and respected.”
With that, she clicks the button to turn on the screen, and it flickers to life.
I sit back, scanning the room until I spot Fabiola, surrounded by petals. A smile curls at my lips as I look down at the phone screen. Mentally counting down, before the screen cuts on and the video plays. The sounds of moans, skin, and Allison’s pleas for more ofDaddy’scock, surround us.
There’s deafening silence… an even greater stillness.