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ARCHER
The other night has been stuck in my head since the moment Lyric left. I can’t stop replaying everything that happened.
She was so good for us, endured everything without complaint, without begging. I felt so connected to her after, as I held her in my arms and teased an orgasm out of her. It's making me rethink everything. There's still anger, still bitterness, but now it's tangled up with something else. Something I don't want to admit.
I sit in class, absently drumming my fingers on the desk, lost in my thoughts. I hear the door open, look up, and spot Lyric, my eyes widening in shock.
She’s changed her look—shorter hair, styled in a way that frames her face perfectly. She’s wearing a tight black tank top under a white sweater, black leggings that hug her curves, and pink heels that add a splash of color. A black choker sits above a delicate silver chain that rests on the tops of her breasts, which now sit high in a lace bra that peeks out just above the edges of the tank.
She’s got makeup on too, subtle but enough to make her eyes stand out. I’ve never seen her look like this before. I swallow and she gives me a smoldering look, brimming with confidence, as though she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
She walks over, her hips swaying with each step and sits down next to me. She leans in slightly, her voice low and flirty. “Hello, Archer.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. “Lyric,” I respond, my voice rougher than I intended.
She smiles, a teasing glint in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” she asks, playing dumb. “You look like you saw something you’ve never seen before.”
“Maybe I did,” I tell her, flirting right back. “I think I might have seen the most beautiful woman in my entire life cross my path.”
A blush streaks across her cheeks, reminding me that she’s still the same Lyric underneath the clothes and makeup.
“Too bad you can’t handle a beautiful woman,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
Or maybe not,I think, enjoying her flirtation. “I can handle anything you throw at me,” I say in response, a chuckle escaping me.
She crosses one thick leg over the other as she pulls her books out of her bag. “Well, you can start by letting me borrow your pen,” she says, holding a hand out.
I pass her the pen, then rifle through my bag to grab another, not even thinking about it. “Good boy,” she purrs, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
What the hell is Lyric doing today? She’s completely changed, practically overnight. This is a new side of her, one I’m not sure how to handle. But damn if it isn’t making things even more complicated.
“Did you work on your part of the presentation?” she asks, pulling her purse up and popping in a stick of gum. I watch as she wraps her lips around it and starts chewing, distracted from her question.
“Arch,” she says, nudging me in the side. I jolt out of my trance and blink.
“Oh, yeah, I already started it,” I tell her, a little dazed at the new scent she’s wearing. It’s spicy, with a note of tropical fruit and jasmine, vastly different from the sweeter lavender-and-vanilla scent she usually wears.
“You’re being the best little boy today, aren’t you?” Lyric says, giving me a titillating look as she pouts her lips. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Wait, what the hell is this?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper as the professor walks in. “You’re acting weird, Shaw. What’s going on?”
“Just reminding you that I might belong to you, but I’m still my own person,” she fires back in a whisper. “I can dress how I want and act how I want, even if you control everything else about me.”
This change in attitude is throwing me for a loop, but some part of me likes the way she snaps back. “Oh? What if I punish you?” I ask, tracing a finger over her thigh.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” she says, a little giggle escaping her as she leans down to take notes.
The professor starts class, but I can still feel Lyric's presence next to me like a live wire. She's sitting closer than she needs to, her shoulder brushing mine occasionally. It's distracting, but I try to focus on the lecture.
Now and then, I catch her glancing at me from the corner of her eye, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. When the professor turns to write on the board, she leans in and whispers,her breath warm against my ear, “You look tense, Archer. Rough night?”
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down my spine. “Just focused,” I reply curtly, my eyes fixed on the front of the room.
She chuckles softly, a sound that's both infuriating and enticing all at once. “Sure, you are.”
A few minutes later, I feel her foot brush against mine. I glance at her and she's looking straight ahead, pretending to take notes, but there's a sly grin on her face. I shift in my seat, trying to create some distance, but she follows, her foot resting against mine.
