Finally, the faculty snaps out of their trance, Ms. Torres being the first one to move, stumbling away from the podium, her hands flying around the air when the remote doesn’t work.
“Turn it off!” she gasps, but the audio keeps looping. I keep smiling until I see Ezra rise to his feet, face pale with wild eyes. Allison runs out of the auditorium crying with some of the petals trailing behind her. While Ezra is busy barking orders at the tech booth, his gaze scans through the crowd, trying to find which one of us did it.
Never once looking back my way, he keeps his grass low to keep out snakes. What he didn’t count on was me. My favoritepart plays, the one with Mr. Roberts fisting her hair, bringing her flush against him. The sounds he pulls from her lips are something ethereal, something that makes her mewl and beg for more cum. It’s explicit and downright filthy, and I eat up every second of it.
Content with my handiwork, I let out a deep exhale through my mouth and rise to my feet. My eyes collide with my future wife, our eyes lock across the chaos. Using two fingers, I offer her a small salute, deepening my grin, hoping she understands my silent message. Her face twists in confusion before it settles into fear when pieces click into place. My finger moves to my lips in a silent motion for her to be quiet. I don’t smile. I’m not sure I even blink. I just hold her gaze until she looks away. The smell of winter and weed brushes past me, instantly snapping me out of the game.
Zayden.
My hand darts out to catch his arm, but he’s quick and dodges it with ease. My jaw ticks, and I follow him. He’s fast, slipping through the crowd of students like smoke, but I know exactly where he’s going. A creature of habit ismeu leãozinho1,he doesn’t run—he simply retreats. And it’s always to the same places. A field or a room that can shut off the noise.
As expected, I follow him right into the locker room.
I quietly creep inside, and the sounds of dry-heaving echo throughout the cold room. He’s hunched over the sink, shirt half off, breathing like he’s been underwater too long. And I wonder what set him off this way. Zayden’s fingers twitch against the porcelain, his reflection a storm—eyes red, jaw tight, and chest heaving. Curiosity is one hell of a drug, and I need a fix. I step inside, and despite my slow and careful steps, he notices, our eyes clashing against the mirror.
I don’t speak.
Neither does he.
There’s a silence that settles comfortably between us. A silent understanding that we are indeed two faces of the same coin, and maybe this is why we orbit towards each other. My hands twitch to touch him; I always fucking want to. Zayden leans closer, washing his mouth without a word. Our eyes remain on each other, even as he spits and uses the back of his hand to wipe his lips. There’s a war within him, and it swirls all over those dark orbs. He leans forward, palms flat on the sink like he’s holding himself up. Or maybe he’s holding himself back from doing something he might regret.
I remain behind him, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall. I note the way his ribs expand like he’s trying to breathe through concrete. I wet my lips, shoving my hands into my pockets, and simply ask, “You good?”
He doesn’t answer.
I move closer, and he doesn't move.
“What’s the matter?” I ask again, to which he scoffs and rolls his eyes like a brat.
“Why the fuck do you care?” he snaps, before he brushes past me, making sure to shoulder-bump me hard enough that I stumble back. My lips curl at that. Violence is like foreplay for a man like Zayden. And I like it when it’s rough. I’m on his heels. “Did you know your future missus was sucking off your best friend's dad?”
“Are you jealous, Ruas?”
Zayden snorts, stopping dead in his tracks before turning to face me. His lips twist into a smirk as he quips. “Of what? Your ability to ruin everything you touch? Or your daddy issues?”
I shrug. “You have those too.”
He chuckles at that, and I step closer.
“Why are you such a brat?”
He rolls his eyes when I fully invade his space, my hands flattening out on each side of his head, pinning him againstthe cold locker door. I feel his breath hitch, his eyes becoming nothing but small voids.
“Maybe your charm doesn’t work on me, Safra. Ever thought of that? I’m not a brat.” He tries to shove me back, but I hold firm. “You’re just spoiled.”
My dick jolts inside my pants. The urge to feel him around me has my blood boiling, making my body a furnace, and I want nothing but to burn him with me. My chest brushes against his as I lean. “You make it fun.”
He chuckles, the vibration tickling my chest. “Fun?”
“Mmm,” I coo, leaning closer so my nose is along his jaw. “So much fun.”
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes, I can fucking feel it.
“I mean it,” I say, my voice dropping low. “Maybe I’m spoiled, what can I say? I want what I want. Still doesn't change the fact that I want it.”
My eyes remain on his Adam's apple as it bobs with each swallow. Zayden doesn’t move, but I do. Leaning in closer, I practically rest my head against his, my other hand moves to his throat, adorning it with a pretty hand necklace. His pulse hammers against the pads of my fingers. My lips graze his jaw before I place a soft kiss there. All the muscles in his body go stiff, including the one between his legs. I drag my mouth slowly across his skin, marking my territory, feeling the way his body fights against the pull between us. He fights to submit to me. And still he doesn’t pull away.
“You hate me, Ruas,” I whisper against his skin. He groans, a sound that sends a current of electricity down my spine.