Page 78 of Whistle

I made a rude noise.

“I’m good. Thanks for everything,” It was probably the nicest thing I’d ever heard Bodhi say.

Kinda pissed me off it was to someone else.

Guess I deserved it.

The boys hesitated, and I shooed them away. Finally, we were alone.

18

Bodhi

The hallway was suddenly empty. All the chaos had drained away, and instead of making the space feel that much bigger, all it did was shrink. The air around me became the air he breathed. The walls around me were erected by his stare. My thoughts and feelings were no longer my own but whatever he inspired them to be.

I didn’t know how he did it, but every time he stepped into the room, everything else fell short. Unable to retain my attention, everything except him withered away as if it never even existed at all.

I was angry with him. Hurt and betrayed. He turned my heart inside out, then abandoned it, leaving the inner shell vulnerable and exposed.

But I was fucked up, a total headcase, because even after, I desired him. I wasn’t sure how to not want him.

My duffle was in his grip, my reflection in his stare. His stubbled jaw made him look partially hidden in shadows. Masculinity seeped from every one of his pores.

He’d hit a student, no hesitation, no holds barred. One moment, his hazel gaze was sweeping my face, and the next, he was assaulting the one who made me bleed.

Yes, he abandoned me.

But he came back for me too.

“What happened?” he said, the sound of his voice the only gravity capable of holding my heart in my chest.

I stared, torn in half and not knowing which side to be true to.

Defy him or love him?

Run away or stay?

He came closer, his voice deepening. “I want an explanation.”

I whispered. “Me too.”

He cursed beneath his breath, reaching out to cup the back of my neck and tug. “Come on. Let’s go.”

I pulled away, the defiance in me winning out. “Go where?”

“Home.”

Something swelled in me so fast I couldn’t identify it, the surge so strong my chest ached as though it were suddenly far too small. The two bags I’d never bothered to unpack hit the floor, and I flexed my hands at my sides.

“Home?” I burst out, practically shaking with suppressed rage.

And hurt. So much hurt.

He shouldn’t have so much power to hurt me. It happened too fast.

“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” I mused. “That night in Cali, you said we were going home. And then you used me and dumped me in a dorm with a stranger where I was violated again.” Still sorely swollen with emotion, I pointed at the door. “That’s not home.”

His face went blank, then dark, then twisted with pain. After setting the coffee he’d been drinking beside the bag on the floor, he rushed forward, the slight whisking sound of his jacket making my stomach bottom out.

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