Page 43 of Loving the Liar

He fists both my wrists with strong hands. “No. You simply didn’t need anything from me. Now you do, and here you are, back on your knees. I said I wouldn’t get you an invitation, Miss Baker. Save yourself the humiliation and go to your next class.”

Shell-shocked, I can’t move when he lets go of my arms and steps around me. Even once he’s left the room, I struggle to get back into a standing position.

As I exit, it’s hard to swallow past my tight throat. The shock and fear push me back into a state of blankness. If I can’t feel anything, I can’t feel anxiety. I’m a ghost haunting the hallways of the Humanities building, slithering among other students. How could he say no? He was my last option.

My brain is foggy, my mind empty. So much that I don’t notice someone is following me until a body starts walking close enough to me that our arms touch.

I recognize the presence all too well, and when Chris puts a hand on my lower back, a shiver runs down my spine from the simple yet possessive gesture.

“Let’s do it the easy way, Sweets.” As I’m about to stop walking, he nudges me with his hand, forcing me to keep going.

I can already feel the eyes of the other students on me. Their questions are loud. They know my ex is back. They know he has a girlfriend. I shouldn’t be talking to him in public.

He can feel my uneasiness, adding, “You answer my questions in the time it takes for you to walk to your next class, and I play nice.” My wild eyes snap up to him, but he taps my lower back. “Eyes ahead. We’re just having a conversation.”

Something is seething beneath his too-calm tone, and I know I’m in more trouble than I can handle.

“How long has it been going on, you and Reeves?” he asks in a voice only for my ears. Someone he knows walks past us, and he nods, smiling at him like he’s not in the midst of terrorizing me.

I shake my head, unsure of what to say. So, I say nothing.

“Was the first time before I transferred? Or is it more recent, like when you came to hand in the essay yesterday? Did he fuck you while I was right outside?”

“When Megan was right outside, you mean?”

I keep my eyes ahead of me, like he said, so I can’t gauge his reaction. But the barely hidden fury in his voice tells me a lot.

“Oh, Sweets. I really do prefer it when we get along, but right now, I’m dying to drag you into the nearest room and bend you over a desk. I’ll rip those nice lace panties you put on for Reeves and shove them in your mouth so no one hears you scream when I kick your legs open and slap your tight little cunt over and over again.”

I feel myself blanch at the same time as something liquifies in my lower belly. Can anyone see my embarrassing reaction? The exact panties he mentioned dampen as we keep walking, and the small friction from the steps I take makes me want to run. I want to feel more.

I look up at him, but he’s still looking ahead, guiding us through the hallway. I have to keep him away from me so my conscience can stay clean. I won’t get involved with Chris while he’s with Megan. I can’t be that girl. I will never be that girl. So I hit him, and I hit hard.

“Your obsession with me is turning into desperation, Chris,” I try to say in an even voice. “In fact, I’d call it pathetic.”

A smile spreads on my face when his hand leaves my lower back, thinking I’ve won this round. It drops right away when I see why. Megan is waiting outside a door, looking down at her phone.

We’re far enough that he can still talk as we get closer. He won’t get his answer about me and Reeves, and it brings a sense of satisfaction to know he can’t get anything he wants whenever he wants.

“I need you to understand something, Ella.” He doesn’t even slow his pace, and with each step, he takes a greater risk of Megan hearing him. Still, he adds, “My obsession with you might be pathetic, but it’s deadly serious. So watch what you do, or who knows how I’ll react?”

“Make sure no one hears you when you say that,” I taunt him. “We wouldn’t want them knowing your gentle façade hides a fucking monster.”

He stops in front of Megan, and she finally looks up, noticing us. Before acknowledging her, he finishes his conversation with me. “Ella, how’s Enzo, by the way? I heard about his knee.” He tsks as he shakes his head. “Such a shame.”

My heart stops entirely, blood draining from my face. In the two weeks Chris behaved and stayed away from me, I went for a coffee with Enzo. That night, he was attacked when he walked back from practice. Did Chris just insinuate that… No.

Megan tilts her head to the side, not even saying hello. “Who’s Enzo?”

She’s asking me, but I’m too shellshocked to answer anything, my mouth dry and my brain unable to string a sentence together.

“Some guy Ella dated for a bit,” Chris answers casually.

"What happened to him?” she insists. Not out of kindness, but pure bitchy curiosity.

“He…he got attacked on his way back from a late practice,” I rasp. “Bat to the knee.” I don’t even feel like I’m present anymore.

Megan hisses, rearing her head back. “Ouch. That sounds personal.”

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