by Sara Cate
We stare at one another with a look of disgust, but for our own reasons. “It’s okay, William. I’m used to it. Mom’s specialty when she’s feeling insecure.” She glares back at me, a fire lit in her eyes, her hand trembling, itching to slap me again.
Spinning around, I run up the stairs and lock myself in my room, wiping away tears as I try my dad for the millionth time. Straight to voicemail. Again. Where are you, Dad? I cry softly into my pillow.
I need to find a way out of here.
Chapter 4
Catalina
“Just like that. Listen to the sweet sounds your body is making for me. So ripe. So beautiful. Tell us you want more. Beg for more—”
I wake up in a pool of sweat, my entire body tingling. I still feel his hands on me—their hands on me. Kenneth constantly occupies my dreams. I don’t know why. He takes me to levels I’ve fantasized about since that night. Maybe it’s because he was the last person I shared a connection with. But this time, he wasn’t alone. And I allowed them both to touch me. Feel me. Have me… There’s no logical reason why the asshole is suddenly invading my dreams. I’d rather break his fingers than allow him any pleasure from me. It’s just my subconscious warning me that I’m headed down the wrong path again.
I get up and gather my things, in major need of a shower. I turn the bathroom doorknob, but it won’t give. Locked. I stamp my foot and huff in frustration. I debate banging on the door and telling William’s son to hurry up. A door creaks down the hall, and I take off back to my room. Showering at school isn’t the worst idea. Having to wait for William’s son to get out of the shower and have a mindless conversation might be.
I wait for the footsteps to disappear, then grab clothes and my school bag and sneak out the front door. When I make it outside, I curse my idea. It has to be twenty degrees colder than yesterday. “I seriously hate winters,” I grumble. Sucking in an icy breath, I start my long trek to school. By the time I make it, I’m an icicle. I took a risk knowing there was a chance the doors would be locked and get lucky when I sneak through the unlocked door of the teachers’ entrance.
The hallways are dark, and I’m grateful for the peace and quiet. I sneak into the girl’s locker room, sighing in relief when it’s empty. Get in, get clean, get out. Quickly discarding my clothes on the bench by my locker, I run into the shower and bask in the hot water. The steam surrounds me, and it takes a few seconds before I finally start feeling my frozen limbs. My eyes close, and I allow the water to run down my face, imagining it taking away all the wicked thoughts wreaking havoc in my mind. I envision the water cleansing me of my past and all my bad decisions. The sorrow of my childhood. It also wipes clean my present. The hell I’ve been forced into because no one loves me enough to truly care about my well-being. The confusing feelings creating a dark path to my future. Shit, I wish I could wash that away too. My future doesn’t end in college and happiness. Mr. Gibson doesn’t need to waste his time.
Losing track of time, I quickly wash my hair. When I shut the water off, I reach out, realizing I forgot to grab a towel. “Shit.” It’s still quiet, so I take off through the showers and down the aisle toward the locker where I dropped my stuff, screaming as I collide with someone.
“Jesus, Cat, calm down.” I look up, my eyes reaching his. “What are you doing in—oh God, why are you naked?”
I stare up at Mr. Gibson, until I remember he’s holding me and how much I don’t have on. I pull back and snatch my towel. “Why the hell are you in the girls’ locker room?” I snap “You’re not allowed to be in here.”
He steps back. “Well, technically, neither are you. It’s before school hours.”
“Yeah, well…I…it doesn’t matter. It’s still the girls’ locker room.”
“Yeah, and last I checked, I’m the girls swim coach. I’m allowed to go through here to get to the coach's office before and after school hours. What’s your excuse?” His eyes are dark and challenging. He wants an answer I’m not going to give him. His gaze becomes strained, and I know damn well he’s fighting to keep eye contact with me.
“I needed to shower, and we kind of have a full house and one bathroom. It’s just a one-time thing. No big deal.” He gazes down at me the same way he did yesterday. He doesn’t back away, so I go on. “What, do you want to call my mommy and daddy and ask? Let them know you found me naked and wanted to know why? My mom’s number is—”
“Jesus, no. Just…you’re not allowed in here before school hours. I don’t even know how you got in here but…don’t make a habit out of this.” He walks away without further argument, and I stand, frozen, until I hear the locker room door open and slam shut.
Physics is awkward as fuck. Mr. Gibson is in a mood. His back is to the class as he slams his marker against the whiteboard, sketching equations. He’s writing so fast I’m having trouble keeping up as I scribble in my notepad. He finishes the formula and gives us his attention, his savage-like eyes searching around the room until they land on me. The way he singles me out makes me uncomfortable. I drop my head to my notebook and pretend to study the equation. I don’t know how many times I redo the formula, hoping he’s lost interest in me and has moved on to another student. When I finally look up, he still stands at the front of the room, his piercing stare directed at me.
Why is he doing this? I should have never engaged with him. The girl sitting next to me raises her hand, breaking his hold. Wrinkles form around his eyes as he’s forced to assist her. A short sigh of relief falls from my lips as I sit back in my chair.
That’s when I feel him.
His warm breath as he leans forward. At first, he doesn’t say anything, just allows the sound of his breathing to chip away at me. I tell myself to sit up and avoid the problem altogether, but my stubbornness doesn’t allow it. He’s doing this to mess with me, and he’s not going to win. I act unfazed, even though something as simple as his breathing is awaking a swarm of butterflies in my belly. Time starts to move like molasses. Trying to focus is impossible. I swear the clock has stopped moving. Just when I think this class could not be any more intolerable, the asshole leans closer and starts humming just loud enough for me to hear. He taps his pencil on his desk, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hating the way his deep voice filters through my ears. I try hard to ignore him, but it becomes too much. Breaking my resolve, I twist in my chair.
“Would you knock it off?” I spit out.
“Knock what off, Stray?”
“That annoying tapping and humming. And stop calling me that.”
“What else is there to call you?”
God, he’s such an asshole. And even worse, I hate that his evil grin affects me. I refuse to give him any more satisfaction and turn back around, only to realize the entire class is watching us. Even Mr. Gibson. If he hadn’t looked infuriated with me before, he sure does now.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Nope. No problem here.”
That’s when the asshole speaks up. “Well, if she would stop flirting with me, I might be able to concentrate.”
What! I turn back around. “I was not flirting with you. That’s the last thing I’d be doing.”
“Sure about that, Stray?” He cocks his eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m sure. Assholes aren’t my thing.” The entire class erupts into a fit of laughter. Mr. Gibson slaps a book on his desk.
“That’s enough. Everyone turn to page forty-five. I want you to do the quiz at the end of the chapter after you finish reading. Miss Mitchell, I would like to see you out in the hallway.”
My mouth drops open. “Me? Why me? I’m not the one who started it. He was—”
“Now, Miss Mitchell.”
I huff loudly and slam my book shut. Throwing myself out of my chair, I shoot a nasty glare at the asshole and walk up the aisle while everyone claps at my back. I don’t bother looking at Mr. Gibson as I walk into the hallway. He exits just as I slam my back against the locker, crossing my arms over m
y chest.
“What was that in there?” His voice is accusatory, like it was my fault. I open my mouth to defend myself, but then figure why does it matter? No one ever takes my side.
“You heard him. I was flirting with him.”
His nostrils flare. “Give me the real answer.”
“That is the real answer. I’m not gonna pass this class, so I was trying to flirt to get him to do my homework. Now you know my endgame. What are you gonna do? Detention? Kick me out? Or do you still feel like saving me, Mr. Gibson?” I’m so angry, my lower lip starts to quiver. I bite down on it, refusing to expose my emotions to anyone.
Mr. Gibson stands there, his chest expanding as he takes in a deep breath. “First off, you’re going to watch the way you speak to me. Second, I’m not going to stand here and feel sorry for you. Your sad story and puppy dog eyes won’t work on me. Until you’re done with this little tantrum and realize I’m on your side, detention it is. Hope you don’t have anything planned for the rest of the week because your ass is mine every day after school until I say otherwise.”
I open my mouth to complain, but he storms back into the classroom before anything can come out. Shit. What did I just do? The last thing I need is to spend any more time near him.
Chapter 5
Samuel
I pop the top of my beer and lean back onto my couch.
Catalina Mitchell.
Angelic. Innocent. Soon to be mine.
She has no idea how special she is. No one gives her a second glance. But I do. I know her potential. I just need her to know it too.
The speculation on why she left is comical, from alien abduction to teen pregnancy. The question is, why is she returning? I tried to stay away, but my interest had gotten the best of me. The second I got wind she was in my class, I requested her file. It was too easy, and no one batted an eye when I kept digging. More and more, I became obsessed. Intrigued by those intense lustrous eyes. She’s just like the others. Innocent on the outside, but there’s a need to be seen and wanted on the inside.
She’s a textbook case of neglect. Absent father. Abusive mother. Divorced when she turned fourteen. I can practically smell the daddy issues. The more I read, the more she fascinated me. The more she fascinated me, the hungrier I became for her, like a beast lying dormant until she walked into my classroom. Even the stories didn’t do her justice until those fiery eyes met mine. I know I should stay away. But it’s too late for that. Now, I’m invested. It isn’t wrong anymore. It’s fate.
My body buzzes with anticipation at having her under my thumb for the entire week of detention. I didn’t even run the damn discipline program. I searched out Steven from the Math department and convinced him to let me take detention duty from him for the week. I debated if she would even show up. There was a defiance in her eyes that made me want to turn her over and spank the shit out of her. She wanted to act like a child, I would treat her like one.
Fuck, I’m getting hard at the mere image.
She turns eighteen soon. This doesn’t have to be like the rest. We can do this the right way. Come Friday, she’ll be putty in my hands.
Another realization has my jaw clenching. I’m not the only one with a close eye on her. I caught the gym coach gazing at her too long. It was only when he noticed me watching that he pulled his sleazy eyes away. But if I see him staring, does anyone see me staring?
Until the time is right, I need to learn how to look and not touch. Play a little cat and mouse until she turns eighteen. Then I’ll test the waters to see if little Miss Mitchell wants to reciprocate. No doubt, she won’t know how to turn me down.
My hand finds its way into my slacks and wraps around my cock, squeezing tight. “I have to be good for now.” I close my eyes and picture her mouth being filled with me as I stroke myself hard and fast, all too quickly soaking my shirt.
Catalina
I make it through another day. Only a million more until I’m out of this hell hole. I try to hide in the shadows, but it seems impossible. At lunch, a girl I knew my freshman year invited herself to sit with me. She reminded me of her name, Melissa, and I vaguely remembered us hanging out here and there. She spent the entire hour filling me in about her life since the last time I had apparently seen her. I silently thanked the gods when the bell rang and I could get the fuck out of there.
Just like yesterday, I don’t have a ride home. I stare off into the distance, a smidge of jealousy as everyone gets into their warm vehicles. I still refuse to call Mom. Getting to school by bus was a one-time thing. They’re only meant for freshmen and losers, so that’s out. Out of nowhere, a thick shoulder slams into mine, knocking my backpack to the ground. It’s no surprise when I see the asshole walking down the steps. He turns around just in time for me to give him the big old middle finger. I debate on jumping on his back and wrestling him just to siphon some of his warmth, but I’d rather freeze.
I hate that I have this inexplainable attraction to him. And it’s becoming a problem for me. I can see myself, despite his cruelty toward me, getting sucked into his alluring trap. Even my body betrays me as it hums with the fantasy of what it would be like to be with someone like him. Fierce. Dominating. Cutthroat. Would he bruise me while he fucked me? Take me hard? Or would he surprise me and be a gentle giant hiding behind this angry façade?
“Jesus, I’m losing my mind.” I shake off my momentary insanity and jog down the steps. I spend the evening at the park until the sun goes down, bringing with it an even more bitter temperature. By the time I walk into the house, my mom is waiting for me. It leads to another night of fighting and me escaping into the confines of my room.
The next morning, I pack up and head out as soon as I wake up. Luck is on my side again, and I slip through the unlocked door to the teachers’ entrance. This time, though, I’m going to be smarter. Instead of using the girls’ locker room, I head into the boys’.
I’m in the clear—clean and refreshed—and walking out of the boys’ locker room when Mr. Gibson steps into my view.
“I thought we had an understanding, Miss Mitchell?”
I practically throw myself back into the door at his voice. “Jesus, are you—what are you, stalking me?”
His shoulders tense, but he hides the displeasure of my accusation by crossing his arms over his chest. “I told you, no students in the locker rooms before school hours. I’m going to have to give you another week’s worth of detention.”
My jaw drops, and I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth in dismay. “You can’t do that.”
He takes a menacing step toward me. “Watch me. We can work together, or we can be on opposite sides. I do suggest you give in to me, Cat. I’m only here to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“But you will. You just need to let me in.” His irritation dissipates. A faint smile flickers across his face, and he takes a slow step toward me. “We would make a great team, you and I. You just have to stop fighting me.”
His words disturb me, but it’s what’s unspoken that sends a wave of shivers down my back. My eyes drop from his, and I stare at his shoes as I respond. “Whatever you say, Mr. Gibson. Detention. Got it. Are we done now?”
I can’t stop focusing on his intense breathing. It takes him a bit before he removes himself from my personal space. “For now. And I expect you to be on time to class.” He turns on his heel and storms off down the hall.
The next day…
I hate a lot of things.
But nothing beats how much I hate this class. The tension in the air is so thick, I’m choking on it. Or maybe it’s just my anxious mind creating these scenarios in my head.
One thing is for certain, the hostility with Mr. Gibson has gone too far. I’ve spent the past few days convincing myself his actions are in my head. But it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore his unwarranted advances. The way he looks at me as if he wants to eat me alive. It’s unnerving, but I don’t know how to stop it.
&nbs
p; I also need to scratch the asshole from my mind. I’m clearly desperate for attention. Anyone would have to be insane to be attracted to him. But my body likes to remind me every time he’s near just how insane I am when it begins to buzz with excitement. Those deep-set eyes that haunt my dreams. His voice that seeps into my skin and takes hold of me. Just the way he breathes creates a flutter inside me. It’s official. I am certifiable. I need to scratch the asshole off my list. Go away. Bad idea.
I humph and slouch in my chair. A piece of paper lands on my desk. I look around to see who put it there, but no one seems to be paying attention. I pull the paper under my desk and open it.
Does your red bra match your panties? Or are you not wearing any?
Crimson spreads across my cheeks. I slam the piece of paper ink-side down and look around again. No one seems to notice or care. Then I feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck. “Are you going to answer me?”
Why am I not shocked it came from him? I want to turn around and slap him, but I fight the urge. The last thing I need right now is another lecture from Mr. Gibson.
I lean back and slightly turn my head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, asshole?”
A dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Maybe I would. Maybe I’d like to oh so slowly peel the material off your little body and help you release some of that pent-up bitch you’ve got going on.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “I will never let you touch me.”
“More lies, Stray?”
I hate him. I hate the way he makes me feel. I cross my legs to lessen the tingling that has started between them and fight the urge to turn and slap him.
He knows as well as I do that he’s gotten to me—and I despise him for it. Finally, I give in and face him. “What, can't stand the fact that when I finger fuck myself, you're the last person that would get me off? How every other guy in this school can make me come, and what a shame it is it’ll never be you.”