Page 64 of Bound By Obsession

We rise from our seats, the legs of the chairs scraping against the polished floor. Wyatt is the first to the door, but before I follow, I chance one last glance at the Dean. His eyes are already down, focused on opening the brown folder and spreading the paperwork in front of him. Lorna tracks me, a look in her eyes that closely resembles regret.

Out in the hallway, the strain between us still lingers like an unwelcome shadow. Wyatt’s pace is relentless, his long strides quickly putting a distance between us. I quicken my steps to keep up.

“Wyatt, wait,” I call after him, my voice quiet but urgent. His shoulders stiffen, and for a second, I wonder if he’s going to keep walking, leave me behind like he’s done a thousand times before. But this time, he stops. His brown hair has fallen out of its usual style, flicking over his forehead. His eyes are fixed on the hallway ahead, his demeanor tense as if he’s seconds away from bolting.

“What?” he snaps, his voice clipped. It’s a familiar tone, a defensive wall he throws up whenever I get too close. My chest tightens as I step around to the front of him, refusing to let him ignore me anymore.

I step in front of him, forcing him to face me. “Thank you,” I say, my voice softer, more vulnerable than I’d like. “For what you said in there. You didn’t have to do that.”

For a brief moment, something flickers in his expression. Something deep and profound, as if his soul just burst to the surface before he had a chance to stop it. I falter at the vulnerability in his green eyes, a low breath escaping his parted lips. “Someone had to.”

“Why?” The question slips out before I can stop it, exposing me. I don’t want Wyatt to know how much he affects me with a few simple words. No matter what he does, I’m prepared to forget it all if I can get just a few words of his praise.

Wyatt’s eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might answer. Shuffling sounds behind him, Huxley and Dax lingering close. Just as quickly, Wyatt’s open expression is gone. He shrugs, his jaw clenched tight. “Don’t read into it, Avery.” Pushing past me, the echo of Wyatt’s footsteps fade down the hallway, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers. Huxley is quick to step forward, crushing me against his chest.

“Let’s get you home, Swan. Axel needs you.” My heart clenches, a choked breath becoming locked in my throat. Many things were said in that room, but one I banked to think about later was the mention of Axel relapsing. There’s so much about my men that I’m still uncovering, still trying to understand. Keeping me close, Huxley eases us along the hallway as Dax falls into step, taking my fingers between his. I already know there’s a sweet smile waiting for me before I glance up at his face.

“Dax?”

“Yes, Angel?” he replies immediately, so open and ready to bend to my every whim. I lean into his shoulder, inhaling the crispness of his sea mineral body wash.

“What’s Midnight Madness?”

Turns out, Midnight Madness is a big freaking deal. The boys gave me a very jaded description about destroying the other frat houses and proving they’re unbeatable, even after I pointed out that the Shadowed Souls aren’t a real fraternity. Garrett, despite his night in a cell, had the energy to be utterly offended at that.

“We buy our way in,” Huxley explained, dishing up a bowl of soup for Axel. This led to an argument about who would take it up to him, with Garrett winning. He’s surprisingly agile when he has bruised ribs and a lump on his forehead.

I snuck away after dinner to call Meg, who gave me a much more in-depth description. Apparently, for one night every spring semester, the fraternities and sororities on campusparticipate in a series of athletic events, with basketball taking center stage.

I can’t say it wasn’t a particularly lengthy call, as none have been since getting our cell reception back. We’ve text here and there but I’ve been trying to give her space after the revelations at the beach house. Ironically, finding out we’re twins has caused a distance I’ve never felt from her. It’ll take time, I remind myself.

Retreating into my room, I rub my tired eyes. Where the weight of exhaustion ends, and an endless knot of anxiety in my chest picks up. One day, things must get easier. Right? Heading into the bathroom, I relish some time to myself, showering without interruption. Garrett is going to care for Axel tonight, a pair of broken boys consoling each other so I can get a full night’s sleep. I’m going to need it ahead of going back to the dance studio tomorrow, knowing I’ll be the height of gossip again.

Once wrapped in a towel, I relieve my hair from the shower cap, allowing it to drape down my back. Stepping back into the bedroom, I notice the door is slightly ajar, a note sitting on the vanity. My heart skips a beat before I can catch it, knowing full well it’s not from who I think.

Mr. XO wouldn’t be able to get in the house when it’s full, but that doesn’t help the disappointment from sinking in. Is he nearby? Did he see what happened yesterday? It’s insane that his presence doesn’t scare me the way it should, as if I’ve rationalized which stalker I should fear and which one I’ve built into a protective presence. It’s not like he’s ever actually done anything for me, other than send the occasional note that lifts my spirits.

Instead, the note, which I suspect he wrote with his non-punching hand, is from Garrett. It lies next to my familiar pinkdildo and a small, circular pill. ‘Found these in Axel’s bag. Enjoy some ‘you’ time, Peach. It won’t happen often.’

“So romantic,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. Picking up the dildo in one hand and the pill in the other, I examine it between my index finger and thumb. There’s nothing to suggest what exactly it is, nor that it’s safe. A strange mixture of curiosity and caution swirls inside me. Garrett’s always teasing, always pushing my boundaries, even when he’s not in the room. But this? This feels like a dare. I bite my lip, feeling the familiar ache of temptation bloom low in my belly.

“Axel’s asleep,” a sudden sharp voice penetrates my room. I flinch out of my skin, accidently dropping the pill on the carpet. Wyatt has stepped inside, his voice trailing off as he looks from the pink veiny monstrosity in my hand, to the pill and back again. “I just thought…you might want to know…What is that?”

“It’s a dildo,” I frown, still trying to calm my hammering heart. “I know it might be bigger than what you’re used to seeing-”

“Not that,” Wyatt huffs. “That.” His gaze is fixed on the floor now, staring at the pill with a hint of panic and curiosity. His shoulders bunch. I note the moment he’s about to lunge, and I beat him to it. Diving forward, I grab the small pellet before his hand has a chance to close around it. My towel tugs, threatening to come loose but Wyatt doesn’t care about that. His eyes are crazed, staring at my closed fist.

“Avery don’t-” he lashes out wildly. Adrenaline surges through me as I drop back onto my ass, all modesty and good sense forgotten. There is no thought process, just the fact Wyatt is ordering me not to that causes my hand to slam against my mouth, shoving the pill inside and my throat to swallow on instinct. A horrified silence hangs between us, both of our faces just as shocked as the other. Fuck, what did I just do?

Exhaling heavily, Wyatt composes himself first. He stands to a towering height, his T-shirt and gray sweatpants seeming far more imposing than casual now. Turning on his heel, I prepare myself for Wyatt to leave me with the consequences of my own stupid actions. What kind of stupid idiot takes something when she has no idea what it is, just to spite the person that’s usually spiting her. Approaching the door, Wyatt braces his hand flat on the wood, and slowly pushes it closed.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, backing up to lean against the bed. Whether I’m scared of Wyatt or the prickling spreading through my chest, I’m not sure.

“Apparently, I’m babysitting,” he groans, pressing his forehead against the wood. Whilst his back is to me, I push myself upright, securing my towel. My legs fail me, the tingling sensation spreading through my limbs. Dropping onto my mattress, the pink dildo I tossed aside rolls closer.

“I-I don’t need you,” I say, my voice completely failing me. Is it hot in here? Warmth is creeping across my skin, my cheeks flaming. Wyatt glances back over his shoulder, his eyes half-mast and completely unconvinced.

“I’m afraid you made the decision for the both of us when you decided today is a good day to get high.” I zone out from his face, the colors in the room blending together. A kaleidoscope appears behind my eyes and I reach out for something solid to hold onto. It just so happens, it’s a nine-inch silicone cock. Holding it up to my face, I try to make out the shape of it, blinking rapidly to bring some of my vision back. Wyatt has moved, his arms crossed as he stands at the foot of my bed.

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