Page 28

“I don’t know,” I answer her truthfully.

Sighing, I snatch up my backpack, toss it over my shoulder as I stand.

I glance at the clock beside the window at her back.

“I gotta go,” I mutter, seeing I’m only cutting our session five minutes short.

“I’m meeting Sloane…” I trail off with my lie and turn from her, heading to the door.

This time, she just lets me go.

But after I open the door, close it softly behind me and start to head down the narrow hallway of the student service’s building, I collide with someone, stumbling back a step.

Their hand comes to my shoulder, steadying me, and when I look up, an apology on the tip of my tongue, my eyes connect with Cortland’s gray ones. Before I can think it through, I’m blurting out, “What are you doing here?”

There’s nothing past Dr. Ravi’s office. It’s like a private island in this two-story brick building, great for therapy sessions.

But there’s no way Cortland is coming to see her for…

He nods toward the door behind me, dropping his hand and stepping back. I take in his black and teal West River long sleeve shirt, fitted gray pants, black Vans.

And his face… there’s a red mark. Like something hit him. A handprint, maybe?

I can’t stop staring at it, feeling a little unsteady on my feet. What happened?

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he popped a pimple. Maybe he got into a fight, or Maya slapped him. I haven’t seen her around campus since the café, and I hope I never do, but still.

He would deserve it.

A cold chill runs down my spine as I think about what she might know. My heart skips a beat. But no. He’d never tell her. I’m a dirty little secret.

That’s all I’ll ever be.

I tear my eyes away from his face, perfect save for that one blemish.

He has one hand in his pocket, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He bites his lip, avoiding his lip ring as he stares down at me, his eyes expressionless.

He’s got the whole brooding pout thing going on, his chestnut hair tousled like he’s run his fingers through it too many times.

As he shrugs, I watch the muscles in his neck flex. “I have an appointment.” He grits those words out, like I’m pissing him off standing in front of him.

I should take the hint and move but my mouth drops open and I blink. “What?”

He smiles cruelly, looking down between us. “Can you move?” he asks, an edge to his question. “I need to get in there.”

I tighten my fingers around the straps of my backpack, hesitant to move and I don’t even know why. I feel that sense of betrayal again with Dr. Ravi, even though, logically, I know it’s irrational. Cortland is a student now, he has the right to access the therapist, too.

But… why?

“Are you like, fucking her?” I don’t know why I blurt that out, but it’s the only thing I can think to say.

And maybe that’s why he got slapped. Maybe he’s not just following me in graveyards.

Taking advantage of me when I’m drunk. He’s sleeping with his therapist. Fuck.

My mind goes wild with different scenarios, each more implausible than the last. Then again, Cortland is a nightmare, but I can see his appeal.

And sure, Dr. Ravi was on my side in there, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

He laughs, dipping his chin as he raises a brow, disbelief etched onto his handsome face. “I beg your pardon?”

I step toward him, ducking to the side, intending to walk around him and let this go. But he sidesteps me, blocking my path, crowding me against the wall, his hands planted on either side of my head.

My heart stutters in my chest as I freeze, inhaling deep. I catch his scent, reminding me of camping. Fall nights. Morning jogs.

I feel alive in the woods. Free.

Just like I do in the cemetery.

Just like I did when Cortland and I went to the park for dates.

But inhaling his scent, it kind of ruins those memories, too.

“You think I’m fucking my therapist?” he asks quietly, flashing his teeth in a smile. The imperfections of his white teeth make my thighs clench and…

Stop.

I cross my arms over my chest, try to step around him again, but he doesn’t drop his hand. “Forget it,” I mutter. “Doesn’t really matter what you’re doing?—”

“You wanna know something, Remi?” he asks, dropping his voice, stepping closer, so his body is nearly flush with mine, his mouth over my neck.

I lean my head back against the wall.

“You’re not the only one who can’t get that fucking night out of their head.” He runs his tongue down my throat and a breath escapes me as his fingers tangle in my hair. “ I can’t get you out of my head.” Butterflies flip in my stomach. “Your scent is still all over my fucking sheets, Remi.”

My heart pounds too hard in my chest as his breath fans my ear, his fingers against my scalp.

“You can keep ignoring me, blowing off my texts, but it’s never gonna work. You can’t run from me.”

Something in that threat rings true, but I shake my head anyway. Before I can speak, he keeps talking.

“I wanna see you again.”

“No.” The word is a reflex. Nothing more than a whimper because Dr. Ravi is just a few feet away, beyond that door. She could open it at any time. What would happen then? What would she think of him? Of me?

“Why?” he demands, angling my head so his brow is pressed against mine as he looks down at me. He still has one hand planted beside me on the wall.

“You have a girlfriend,” I tell him, my throat tight.

“That’s the only reason?” he questions, and he doesn’t mock me. He looks like he really wants to know.

I laugh, rolling my eyes, trying to pull away from him, but his grip on my skull tightens. “It’s a pretty big one,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “But maybe I can get a boyfriend, then we could?—”

“You can try. I’d probably kill him, and given my track record, I’d get away with that too.” He lets go of my hair, runs his thumb over my bottom lip between us, tugging it down. “Let me see you.”

“That first night in the woods, we agreed we would stay away from?—”

He cuts me off as his fingers dig into my jaw, my skin against my molars. “Last weekend, I felt certain that agreement was fucked into pieces, Remi. Don’t you?”

I reach for his shirt, twisting the fabric in my hands as I stare up at him, see him pull his head back, relax his grip on my jaw.

“Thanks for the orgasm when you assaulted me ,” I tell him, my words low. “But I can manage that all on my own. The agreement is back in place. A rapist shouldn’t harass his?—”

His hand comes to my neck, pushing my head back softly against the wall.

I slip my hands under his shirt, my nails raking down the hard muscles of his core. I want to fight him. I want to hurt him. I want to… hurt.

“I didn’t rape you,” he snarls, in my face. “Get that through your fucking head so I can get you the fuck out of mine.” Then he releases me, making to step away, but I dig my nails in deeper.

His eyes narrow. “Get your fucking hands off of me, Remi.”

“Say that a little louder, Cort.”

He glances at the door at my back, a smile pulling on his lips.

“You think I won’t? It might be nice, fucking you over for a change.

” He looks down at my hands under his shirt, my nails close to breaking his skin.

“But I prefer to fight fair, not bring police into shit I can handle myself.” He runs his tongue over his lip ring, still staring at my hands on his body.

I realize I’m not breathing, waiting to hear what else he has to say.

Finally, his charcoal eyes meet mine. “I mean, you never heard of a cop declawing a cat, did you?” He grabs my wrist, yanking one hand off of him and holding it up between us, his grip bruising.

I drop my other hand from his core, try to yank my wrist from his grip, worried he’ll see what I did but he just pulls me to him, my hand between us.

“Where I’m from, you have a problem with someone?

” He sucks the tip of my index finger, then bites it, hard enough that I have to bite my own tongue to stop from gasping out loud.

“You talk it out.” He slides up my sleeve with his teeth and my heart thunders too fast in my chest. “And if you can’t?

” He shrugs. “Someone usually ends up in an unmarked grave.”

He flips my palm and I am perfectly still as he looks down between us at my newest wound. I didn’t want him to see. It was just a moment of weakness. This morning, when Sloane left for class and I was pretending to sleep in bed. When I could still smell him all over me.

No, no, no.

He frowns, his jaw clenched tight. “I’m disappointed in you, Remi.

” He brings my arm to his mouth, his piercing cold on my skin as I struggle to breathe.

“Vertical,” he whispers, his breath across my wrist. “Otherwise, you don’t really want to die.

” He presses a kiss to my cut, dropping my hand between us but not letting go, then linking his fingers with mine.

“You just want attention.” He leans down close to me, his lips over my own.

“I can give you that without you trying to hurt yourself.” He releases our hands, then steps around me, his palm on the door to Dr. Ravi’s office.

“I’ll see you around, Remi.”

Then he disappears inside, and I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath, my eyes closed tight.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

I can’t either, Cortland. I fucking can’t either.