Page 52 of Forever We Fall

My nerves wind tighter and tighter as the hours roll by, bringing me closer to his arrival time. I don’t expect him to be in the first wave. His prison guard will keep him as long as possible. Luckily, the window is small for student return.

“Well, well.” A decidedly feminine voice purrs from over my shoulder. “I expected to see you more often over the break.”

I turn to find Miss Booth smiling down at me.

Her hair is curled and loose today, falling around her little breasts. Her cardigan trims tight at her waist, and her relaxed floral skirt flares out at her hips, hitting her mid calf.

On any other day, this opportunity would have my dick up. As it is though, I barely keep from groaning. I don’t want to interact with anyone except Arlo.

“Hello, Miss Booth.”

The pretty young woman sits on the bench next to me, keeping her legs out in the aisle. She sees me looking and crosses them, nearly brushing my ass with her bare calf.

Of course, I’m looking. I’m not dead.

“Call me Emily.” Her gaze flits about the room, then returns to me. “When it’s just us.”

“Sure, Emily.” I nod, place my utensils on the tray, and push it back.

“I was hoping to see you during the break.”

My gaze meets hers. “Why’s that?”

She slaps my shoulder, and her cheeks blush to the color of her sweater. It’s quite the contrast on her pale skin. “You know.” Her laugh is high and frightened.

The frightened part does something to my dick.

“No, I don’t,” I deadpan, forcing her to say what she wants.

Her white teeth come out and snag her lower lip. She looks at her pink pumps, and I envision fucking her while she’s bent over in only her heels as Arlo watches.

“I thought…” She swallows, still not looking at me. “I thought we liked each other.”

“I don’t know you,” I say evenly. I don’t want to know her.

“I mean, like looking at each other,” she amends, meeting my gaze.

“You have entirely too many clothes on for that.” I give her a wink, which is all I can muster. Then I grab my tray, toss my legs over the bench, stand, and deposit my things in the tray return. She’s still sitting in her spot, watching me as I head for the exit.

“We could change that,” she whispers over the distance.

“Maybe we could. One day.” I leave her staring after me, realizing how much I would have gotten off on that encounter at the beginning of the year and how much I don’t care about it now.

There’s only one person I care about.

I rush across campus to my room. I open my door to the bathroom wide and sit at my desk. Like a dog, I stare at the door and wait for my owner—the owner of my heart, body, and soul—to return.

I stare for so long my eyes cross. The cacophony in the hallway picks up to concert levels with the bustle of boys and their bags. With each passing minute, my heart rate jumps.

By the time I hear the rattle of Arlo’s door, I feel as though I’ve gone twenty rounds on the mats. My hands fist the front of my trousers, and I have to force myself not to run to him.

I wait and wait some more, and then wait longer still for Arlo to open the door, for him to come to me in whatever capacity he can.

The light fades through the window. Still, he doesn’t come.

Finally, I can’t take any more. I limp to his door on tingling legs, hold my breath, and brush a soft knock on the wood.

Again, he doesn’t come. There’s not a whisper of a sound from his side.

---