Page 80 of The Freedom in Captivity

Weight fills my stomach. Something’s wrong. She needs to explain soon before I go insane. Fisting my free hand ensures I don’t end up shaking sense into her. She’ll tell me on her own terms, but that better be now.

After a long kiss that’s both the best and worst one she’s ever given me, she pulls back, shuts her eyes, and whispers, “I-I’m sorry, Flynn.”

Finally, her eyes open again and she studies me. I do the same, greedily drinking in the curve of her lips, the shape of her eyes, the specks of darker blue amongst the light colour. Her waterfall of hair I adore.

Why do I get the sense I need to commit her to memory?

“I-I have to go.”

“Home.” Even though I know, deep down, she means longer than just for the day.

She shakes her head, revealing what I’ve already assumed. “I’m leaving the school, Flynn. My father’s making me return to my old one.”

Considering she’s never let me near her house, or told me anything about her family, somehow, I know my argument will fall on deaf ears. “School’s gonna fuckin’ suck without you here, but we’ll meet up every evening, if you want.”

She cups my cheek, her skin cooler than normal. Her heat, her brightness, it’s fading right in front of my eyes. My sunlight is covering with clouds as dark as the ones outside.

“We’re over, Flynn, I’m…I’m s-sorry. You and I…we can’t be.”

She releases me and backs away, but I allow her no more than a single step before I’m clutching onto the edge of her dress, grabbing her hand, and hauling her to the wall at my back, pinning her there with my body. Uncaring that her fancy driver is awaiting her or that students and teachers are all around us, I kiss her.

I kiss her. I steal her. I imprint myself on her.

It’s with that kiss I tell her everything I have yet to. That I love her. That she’s been healing me in ways I never believed possible. That walking up to her at the smoke bench was single-handedly the best decision of my life. That she makes me feel wanted so when my father reminds me how much I’m not, I replay all my interactions with her.

“Flynn,” she whispers, shaking her head and shattering our connection. “I have to go. They’re waiting on me.”

“No.” I kiss her harder. She can’t go.

She tilts her head, breaking it again. “Flynn, I’m sorry.”

“Why?” I meet her eyes, demanding the truth. “Why now? Why is your father suddenly demanding this?”

Her lips press together. She squeezes her eyes and another tear falls. When she opens them, there’s a flash of an apology and then…nothing. An expression blanker than I’ve ever seen from her. A deadness that chills me to my core.

“I had a deadline to be here, and it’s come. I made a deal, which I now need to follow through on my end.”

“Bullshit.” That sounds entirely made up. I grab onto her upper arms, no muscle, nerve, or organ inside my body willing to release her. Now, or ever. Not until she gives me a valid reason. “Tell me the truth.”

“It is the truth,” she emphasizes every word. “Look, I wanted to do this nicely to spare you but seems you’re not being easy about this. This,” with a pinkie and a thumb, she indicates the both of us, “was a game. It was fun. Attend the same private school your entire life, with the same people, the same expectations, you get bored. My friend and I made a bet that I wouldn’t be able to live a regular high school life.”

A bet.

My fingers begin lifting from her skin, one by one. The urge to hold her remains, but confusion mingles too. Her words sound like a lie, but apparently, all this girl’s done is present herself as false, so this is likely the truth.

“A bet to have a regular high school life,” I recount her claim as I scan her. The dress made from fine material, meanwhile my faded jeans are torn with age and wear. Her hair, shiny and silky, while mine remains dull from cheap shampoo. Everything about this girl screams money, which made her a bright light amidst a school of desolation.

Mybright light.

But apparently a light that was manufactured for her own twisted games.

“Then where did I fit into it?”

Her lips lift in a cruel smirk that seems entirely wrong on her. “Part of the high school experience and all that. Once we met, my friend added to the bet that I wouldn’t be able to get one of you,” she gestures around the school, “to fall in love with me. But look at that—I did it. Trust me, Flynn, my life has no place for you. You’re not good enough for me.”

Not good enough for her. Every word is a punch to the gut. A fact that makes me want to hit something if she wasn’t correct. I’ve never been wanted by anyone, never been good enough for anyone…except her.

But I suppose that was a lie too.

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