Tiago
Nothing on earth could ever reveal the real reason I rushed to her that night. Mostly because not even I know it.
Things aren't different, after all. I don't see her much, and every time I do, all I get is that wicked grin of hers.
It's almost as if nothing ever happenedâexcept my mind won't stop twisting. Days have passed, yet every time I close my eyes, all I see are her features: falsely innocent and dangerously pretty. Her eyes, narrowed and mischievous, seem to shout that I'm in her control now.
I keep recalling her body. Her pale skin, iced with freckles scattered across her face, collarbones, and shoulders. The way the fabric outlines the silhouette of her nipples, hard from the chill breeze. Or the way her pajama pants hug her full thighsâand how I try my best not to look when she turns her back to head home.
I want you.
I wonder what she meant by that.
The hallway is so empty in the morning as I wander through. When my headphones signal low battery, I take them offâand that's when I actually hear it.
Nothing.
Nothing at all. The emptiness echoes in my ears, amplifying my thoughts.
They're too loud to handle.
Too loud to the point where I can do nothing but surrender, letting them invade my head as I walk to the lockers. Once again, I spiral down into her world.
"You know I want you."
The words feel so intimate when she says them. So tantalizing, they almost become real, her rasping voice dissolving into a whisper that covers my skin with shivers.
I stop, my steps becoming inaudible, merging with the silent hallway.
"So why keep overthinking about this jerk?"
Her voice is too distinct to confuse her with anyone else. I sneak along the wall, stopping near the open door. Whatever's happening in there, I don't want to see it. Not even if it involves Yannik messing around after what happened the other day.
"Because I see how he looks at you."
Oh, screw it.
I lean toward the doorway, just enough to peek inside. I already know who's with her.
Cormac stands by the teacher's desk, between Yannik's legs, his hands resting on her thighs, his fingers drawing patterns on her skin as he speaks.
"I'm a guy, Yannik."
Did she lie to me back then? When she said she didn't have a boyfriend?
"Really? Couldn't tell."
Her chuckleâironic and seductiveâis no different from the ones she gives me. Or is this why she put that restriction on feelings when she offered this stupid deal?
"Seriously, I know what's in a guy's head."
So it wasn't as deep as I thought. She just wants sex in exchange for her surreal help.
Not a cokehead, then. A bop.
"But do you know what's in my head?"
Yannik's voice tickles my mind, the same voice I've been craving for days now. The only problem is that she has another guy between her legs, touching the bare skin her shorts don't cover, looking at her up close.
"Or are you scared you're not better than Tiago?"
Her saying my name sends shivers down my spine. I understand my situation clearly, but my body doesn't care.
Waitâwas it me she called a jerk just a moment ago?
"Of course not."
I can't tell if it's just me or if Cormac's actually stung by her words.
It's hard to swallow with disappointment and disgust throbbing in my throat. My body feels like stoneâunable to move, blink, or even breathe.
I'm frozen, every part of me focused on Yannik's body as it grazes against someone else's hands.
"So there's no problem with him being on your team."
Yannik isn't askingâshe's stating, as though she's giving a monologue and Cormac is nothing more than an intruder.
"Why are you so concerned?"
Cormac's voice pulls me back as Yannik traces her hand along his neck, her fingers lingering on his jaw to make him look at her.
"Because I want you to be the captain of the best team," she says, her voice smooth and deliberate. "And he happens to be the best QB you could ever dream of."
Her words feel like a sweet, tempting lie. I can hear my own breathingâthick and heavyâas my temple rests against the doorframe.
I expect them to kiss. I know I shouldn't be watching, observing them from a distance, but it feels fair to break the rules of morality when I know Yannik broke them long before me.
But then her eyes land on me. As if she's looking at Cormac, but the soul being touched is mine.
My heart skips a beat, and I dash away from the door, hoping that if I disappear fast enough, she won't notice me.
But she's already noticed.
Now, no matter how fast I walk away, I can't shake the feeling of her piercing gaze burning into me.
***
"Howdy, locker neighbor."
"What?"
I can't help but look at Yannik as she leans against the locker next to mine, catching me off guard. She shrugs casually, her eyes wide and innocent.
"Boyânextâlocker? Like it better?" she banters, biting her lip as if waiting for me to roll my eyes. But all I do is bury my head in the locker, pretending to search for the missing note. "Come on, stop being a jerk."
"You're the one who called me a jerk in the first place," I reply. It's probably a good thing I can't see her face right now. Then again, it's a blessingâbecause I'm not sure what stupid thing I might do if I meet her gaze.
"Yeah, and also a fucking maniac," she says, her tone shifting from teasing to a mild complaint. "You can't peep on people like that, you freaky little shit."
I pull my head out of the locker, the missing paper in hand, and straighten up in front of her. Yannik's eyes flick over me briefly before she speaks again, a grin forming on her lips.
"Well, maybe 'little' isn't the right word..."
Her voice is lower now, her tone playful.
Every time she's around, my thoughts wander. I picture how my body would look over hers, so fragile and beautiful, my hand tracing her thigh, sliding up her waist, or cupping her breast.
Or how it would look on her face, softly touching her cheek as she leans closer.
As close as she was to Cormac back there.
"Anyway, don't leave the door open next time you're making out with your boyfriend," I say, closing my locker.
Yannik growls, clearly annoyed.
"Jeez, you're really getting on my nerves, Big Boy."
Her words are muffled as she bites the piercing on her tongue. It has a pink ball this time, instead of the usual metal one.
"I actually got you another chance for a tryout, so you should be grateful..."
"You did what?"
I stare at her, knowing I probably look like a lunatic. The good thing is, Yannik's far crazier than I am. She just lets it slide, a wide smile spreading across her face.
"Just so you know I don't talk shit," she says. "You can question my methods, but here you goâyour spot on the team. Now it's up to you to do your best."
"How did you..." I start, but I stop myself as the image comes to mind. Right. I know how she did it.
"Men love being praised," Yannik says with a confident smile. "Say what they want to hear, and you can get anything from them."
It sounds like a motto the way she says it.
I give her a small smile and a nod to thank her, but all I'm really thinking about is what comes next.
We made a deal. She kept her promise and got me another chance to try out for the team.
Now it's my turn to do what I promised her.
"Wanna skip the next period?"
I don't even realize I'm walking until I notice Yannik keeping up with me.
Oh, god. Not this soon.
A few days ago, I was desperate enough to prostitute myself for a deal. Now, I can't imagine being in that position.
Not with a maneater like Yannik at my side, asking me to skip a periodâeither to share a blunt or to collect what I owe her.
"Can't," I say, holding up the notes in my hand. "I have an exam now."
Yannik's eyes flick to the notes, then widen as her lips part in silent realization.
"Shit, History," she mumbles. "Are you ready, though?"
I press my lips together, hesitating. I've been studying for weeks, ever since Mr. Dawson announced the exam date. But somehow, it still feels like too much.
Also, I'm so incredibly dumb for dates and stuff.
I cast a sidelong glance at Yannik. Her eyebrows are pinched together, which either means the gears in her head are working overtime on this one, or she feels guilty for not organizing the tutoring earlier.
It's partly my fault too. I was too caught up in the haze of what I was feeling after we smoked together to care about something as dull as tutoring.
"Take a seat by the window," Yannik orders.
"Why?" I stop by the classroom door, reluctant.
Yannik leans against the doorframe, her proximity unsettling. She's too close for me not to feel vulnerable.
"Do what I say, Big Boy," she murmurs, her voice a near-whisper, laced with mischief as she looks up at me with that devilish smile.
I need to take a deep breath and look away, forcing myself to come up with an answer more coherent than, 'Stop looking at me like you want to eat me'.
"Oh, and I looked up what 'root' means." Yannik winks, and I want to vanish into thin air. "You're naughty, Tiago. Anyways, church is out."
Before I can defend myselfâor call her out for treating me like the pervert when she's clearly the oneâshe spins on her heel and walks off.
A few minutes later, I'm doing my best to focus on the question in front of me. Although, it's hard to do when my mind is too busy with Yannik calling me 'freaky' and 'naughty'.
'What caused the rapid spread of Renaissance political and social ideas?'
I bite down on my pencil, the silence drilling into my brain until my thoughts spiral into a complete mess. The Renaissance feels a million miles away.
I've been thinking about her all week. Every day. Every single moment when my head wasn't working right. Every time I got a message and hoped it was from her. Every time I thought about our deal and imagined a hundred ways to pay her back.
And every time I woke up, haunted by the image of her in those pajamas the other night.
Anyway...
'What caused the rapid spread of Renaissance political...'
"Excuse me, Mr. Dawson, do you have a free minute?"
The interruption jolts me out of my daze. I glance up to see one of Yannik's friends standing in the doorway.
"Oh, sure, Samuel. What's wrong?" Mr. Dawson swivels to face him, waiting for an answer as Sam walks toward him.
I tilt my head back down.
"What caused the rapid spread of..."
The soft screech of the window sliding open stops me mid-thought.
My heart skips a beat when I see Yannik grinning at me from the other side of the glass.
I sneak a glance at Mr. Dawson, who's fully engrossed in conversation with Sam. Some people in class notice Yannik too, but they quickly look away, pretending they didn't see her.
"What in the... How did you..." I whisper, keeping my voice low as I steal a glance out the window.
That's when I see how she pulled it off. Yannik's sitting on TJ's shoulders, who's precariously perched on the roof of the basement entrance.
"I love having you strangle me with these legs, doll, but hurry upâmy back is sore as shit!" TJ grunts, throwing me a mock salute when he notices me staring.
Oh, God. This dickhead squad is going to kill me one day.
"What's up, princess?" Yannik teases, grinning.
I'm too thrown off to be offended by the nickname when I should be focusing on my test.
"No way!" I whisper aggressively. Yannik groans muffledly, sliding a sheet in the window gap.
"Shut up and let me save your distressed ass. Now give me the goddamn quiz and keep this..."
"Alright," I mutter, cutting her off before Mr. Dawson catches me talking to a ghost at the window.
We exchange papers quickly, and I hear Yannik's snickers echoing as she retreats to the roof.
Mr. Dawson is utterly clueless, still chatting with Sam like he doesn't need to monitor the class taking the test. I feel bad for cheating, but it's hard to see it as wrong when the teacher doesn't even seem to care.
I lower my gaze to the fake sheet Yannik handed me, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Her messy handwriting jumps out at me:
'6 p.m. at my place. Gotta be ready for the next test, Big Boy.'