Page 29 of A Voice In Chains
Even so, I feel fucking terrible as we pass. But I don’t speak up, and I don’t put a stop to it. I don’t even glance in Arkin’s direction again because he’s no one to me… Just a guy who sleeps in my room.
A lie.
A lie I’ll keep telling myself until it feels like the truth.
Behind me, the crowds burst out in laughter as Jones slams Arkin against the wall.
Steeling my heart, I shove the guilt far down with all my other emotional bullshit. Arkin is not my problem.
Before we reach the cafeteria, Amy pulls me toward an empty lecture hall with a flirtatious smile. “Let’s have a little fun first.”
We’re almost at the door when I rip my hand free. The last thing I want is to have sex when my gut churns like this.
Honestly, my half-digested breakfast is about to make a reappearance any second now if I don’t put a lid on the nauseating guilt. Good luck getting me hard.
Amy can’t take a damn hint, though, and tries to pull me down for a kiss out here in the hallway, whispering, “I want you, Zach.”
Yeah, that’s not happening.
Unwinding her hands from around my neck, I create space between us. “I’m not in the mood.”
She scoffs, not knowing if she should laugh or cry. “Are you serious?”
Harrison and Ryan have left. It’s just us, except for random strangers.
“Dead serious,” I mutter, trying to leave, but she catches up in her tall heels.
“That’s the third time you’ve turned me down this week.”
“So?”
“So?” She laughs bitterly.
She pulls me to a stop and crosses her arms over her chest, causing her tits to pop in her low-cut flowery dress. “Do you know who I am, baby?”
“Is that a trick question?”
She’s not impressed by my sarcasm and glides her tongue over her front teeth while she cocks a brow. “I’m the most popular girl here. Don’t play stupid, Zach. Rich, popular girls like me date popular boys like you. That’s how this works in every romance story known to man.”
I’ve always thought her ego was a bit inflated, but she cements it now when she throws her arm out and hisses, “Every guy in this damn building would sacrifice a nut to fuck me, and you say no.” She eyes me up and down. “Are you gay?”
I rear back. “What?? No. Fuck no!”
If anything, she narrows her eyes.
“I’m not gay,” I respond, sounding as exasperated as I feel. “I’m not fucking gay, okay. You know I’m not. I’m just… not in the mood.”
If I thought her eyebrow couldn’t rise any higher, I was wrong.
While my girlfriend—who I sort of started fucking out of boredom—stares me down like I’m a Cluedo mystery she wants to solve, my sister walks by, mouthing something that looks a lot like “Evil queen bee.”
My lips commit treason, twitching in response.
The timing would almost be funny if I weren’t sticking my dick in one of the most high-maintenance, irate women within a ten-mile radius. The same woman who put me on a two-week sex ban because the flowers I got her for Valentine’s this year weren’t expensive enough.
As if to prove my point, Amy stomps her foot with a frustrated screech, smacking me in the face with her ponytail as she turns on her tall heels. “Screw you, Zach.”
She storms away, hips swaying like she’s on a runway, while the guys in the hallway salivate over her shapely legs.
