Page 61 of Darkest Obsession

“Kissing you.”

He just makes me want to try out one of my new British insults. “Wanker.”

He snickers, but doesn’t drop his hand from my cheek. “You’re right. We should… act like enemies.”

“We are enemies.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, biting down on his lip again. “Got it.”

“See you in class.”

He winks and then opens the door behind him, allowing me past. “See you in class.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Thomas

I don’t blame her for hating me, but she can’t blame me for watching her, then. I should have kissed her. I consider it in class. That would shock her – but probably get me in loads of trouble. After our first class, I walk to the whispering bench and stick the money beneath it, glancing around to see if I’m alone.

My sister says women have a better sense of being watched than men, since women always had to worry about predators of their own species too. I sit on the bench and have a smoke near the £500, but no one appears and I have another class, so I try not to smell like cigarettes and walk to class, leaving the money behind.

I reply to the email, letting the blackmailer know. Maybe we shouldn’t have given up the money so easily. It’s just five hundred quid, though. Even Clover wasn’t hurt by it and there’s no way she’s as rich as we are.

“You smell like cigarettes,” Sylvia says when I walk into math class. I fucked that up. I shrug and don’t bother sitting next to her. I’ve heard enough of her lectures about cancer sticks to last a lifetime. The last thing I want to do is trigger her outrage more. Clover has a creative writing class now and after that, she will have approximately fifty to seventy minutes of vulnerability.

I know she doesn’t want me anywhere near her but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I manage an A+ on the surprise quiz in maths, which is a bloody miracle considering how fixated I am on Clover.

After maths class, I hurry to Room #302 where Clover has class and lean against the door until I hear her teacher dismiss them. I slip into Room #303 until I see her walk past with Kola and some Roger. I don’t like the way Roger looks at her. At all. Whatever, at least she doesn’t notice me and she ditches the cunt (Roger) before heading to lunch with Kola. The other girl is quite loud. I slip into the dining hall and sit somewhere Clover can’t see me watching her.

She’s pretty when she eats. It’s not something I think often, but she has gorgeous full lips and just watching the way her mouth closes around… everything. Fuck, I know I shouldn’t watch her like this. I should have gotten her out of my system by now. I kissed her. I touched her. I did dirty, horrible things to her and now I have to accept that the only thing keeping her from walloping me to death is our shared circumstance. Blackmail.

I don’t believe for a moment that she isn’t in trouble. If she’s worried, she doesn’t show it, sitting idly with Kola for second helpings and blissfully unaware of all the difficult work I’m doing keeping her safe. Well, not quite difficult. It’s just staring. But I’m ready to hurt anyone who touches her. Spicy freak. Someone has a sense of humor. That’s hardly a clue about who could be doing this, right?

I hate not knowing. I hate my fucking past. After lunch, I cut class to follow Clover since she decides to deviate from her program. She ought to be at the counselor’s office, but instead she wanders off onto the field hockey teams near her dorm and picks up the phone. I have to hide behind trees to get close enough to hear her. She’s not particularly cautious for someone living under threat. I should talk to her about that… after my bruises heal. She’s a little assaultive.

I rather like it. Bruises everywhere all caused by that little thing. It’s like she isn’t even scared of me. What the fuck has she seen in her life that I don’t scare her? I’m curious and fuck, I want to listen. She has to call twice before the person on the other line answers.

“Mom?” Clover shrills. All American accents sound shrill to me. And why the bloody hell do they speak so fast?

She puts her phone on speaker and glances around to make sure no one’s watching her. I wonder if she can sense me, if Violet was right, or if she’s just paranoid because of the threat.

“Baby girl! How are you sweetie?”

“I’m good. I’m good.”

Not true. She’s scared.

“Did you watch our latest video? We reached ten million views in an hour. When we finally leaked the divorce news. Fuck your daddy, fuck the audience, fuck the haters. We’re going to make it rain, girl! This video already made us $85,000 in a day. Just one damned day. WOOOO! I’m going to buy myself a new bag. Should I get the Louis I’ve been eyeing or the Gucci?”

“That’s awesome. Maybe… Maybe the Gucci. With the gold handles.”

Clover’s voice warbles.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you celebrating? Are you doing our signature dance? Should we put it on video chat?”

“No. Mom… I need…” Clover pauses and then sighs. “I think I need some more money from my account.”

“More money? We already gave you $500 for the semester. Why do you need more?”