Page 6 of Lustling

The words land like a slap. Shame floods my chest, hot and nauseating.

I’ve tried to explain. Ihaveexplained. Over and over. But the guilt is louder than his voice—deeper, older. It has my mother’s pitch. My church’s cadence. The echo of purity rings and prayers and warnings about the girls who gave too much of themselves away.

“I’m waiting,” I say, teeth clenched as I force the words past the lump in my throat. “You know that.”

He doesn’t look at me.

I reach for his hand again, guiding it back to my thigh. “We can do other things. Please. Ineedit.”

His jaw tightens.

“Then you’ll have to do it yourself.”

The dismissal slices through me, deeper than I expect. I stare at him, stunned, the sting blooming in my chest slow and hollow. The heat under my skin turns to fire, but not the kind that melts—it burns.

“Shawn—come on.”

But he doesn’t even glance my way.

“Get out of the car, Lil. I’ll see you in class.”

That’s it.

Just like that.

My heart pounds, blood roaring in my ears. I grab the door handle with shaking fingers, swing it open, and slam it shut behind me hard enough to make my palm throb.

I storm across campus, blinking back the heat in my eyes, furious that I’m even upset. Furious that Icare.

Denied in my dream. Denied in real life.

What’s wrong with me?

I shouldn’t feel this empty. This raw. Like something hollowed me out and left the shell behind.

The sun cuts through the trees overhead, but it feels wrong—too pale, too thin. Shadows stretch unnaturally across the pavement as I walk, reaching toward me like fingers. My spine prickles. I swear something flits at the edge of my vision—too fast to name, too dark to be part of this world.

Something’s watching.

No.

Something’sfeeding.

I push faster, shoes slapping against the sidewalk, my heart hammering wildly for no reason I can name. The building looms ahead, the glass doors reflecting a warped version of the world behind me. I throw one open?—

And crash into someone.

A body. Solid. Warm. Unmoving.

I stumble back with a gasp, my hand flying out to steady myself.

Then I look up. And I forget how to breathe.

TWO

Before I can fall, strong hands catch my waist.

Not gently. Not casually. Like Ibelongthere.