Page 35 of The Code of You

"It’s not a game.” The words came out faster than I’d meant them to. "He means it. He’s . . . serious.”

"Shouldn’t you call the police at this point?”

I swallowed. Damn it. Of course she was going to ask that eventually. My stomach knotted. How was I supposed to explain that I didn’t want to? That in spite of everything, I couldn’t let go? "It’s just . . .” My voice came out unsteady. "The conversations with him . . . they feel real. Like he sees everything in me. I don’t know . . .”

Isobel leaned forward and put her hand on my arm. "You don’t know if you want to give it up.”

I bit my lip and looked down. Heat crept into my face. Damn her. She was right.

"I get it, Pand.” Her voice had gone quiet. "I was watching Tom sleep the other night,” she said suddenly. "You know what I thought?” She took a sip of coffee and made a face. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

I nodded. "That must be . . . hard.” I ran my thumb around the handle of my mug.

Isobel stared at the candle between us. "Hard doesn’t cover it. It’s like living next to a stranger. I’m starving for something real, something intense—and all I find is silence.”

Her words hit me like an echo. Realness. Intensity. Everything I was afraid of . . . and everything I kept reaching for anyway. While she talked about emptiness, something in me tightened.

She tore at a paper napkin, pulling it into thin strips. "I don’t even feel guilty when I’m with Maxime. But I don’t feel alive, either.” She turned her wedding ring around her finger, like she needed the reminder that she was married.

I frowned. "Who’s Maxime again? And what happened to Jason?”

"Oh, he’s ancient history.” She waved it off like it didn’t matter, but her voice was hollow. "You know what? In the end they’re all the same. A little passion, a little lying . . . and then there’s nothing left.” She looked at me, her eyes catching the candlelight. "Maybe I’m even a little jealous of you, Pand. At least you still feel something.”

I swirled my hot chocolate. Cocoa stained the inside of the mug. Feel something. That was exactly what I was doing. More intensely than I’d ever wanted to.

But how was I supposed to explain to Isobel who was doing this to me? I pressed my knees together, trying to force myself back under control.

Isobel raised an eyebrow and grinned. "So have you two had . . . cybersex yet?”

"Isobel.”

She laughed loudly. "Okay, okay. I’m just saying . . . why not?” She winked.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Shit . . . Sex with Neo—however that would even work—aroused me more than it should have. I felt that pull low in my stomach again. God, I was genuinely beyond saving. I hated my body for the way it responded. Traitor.

Isobel looked at me, her grin gone. For a moment something like worry flickered in her eyes. Then she lifted her cup, took a sip, and leaned back, as if the coffee could wash the discomfort away.

***

When I stepped out of the café later, the wind had calmed, but I was still cold. I put my headphones on and turned down the narrow path toward campus. Soft strings and a woman’s voice filled my ears. I closed my eyes and breathed in. The music settled me. Anchored me to the present.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was all alone. The park was empty. My pulse throbbed painfully in my throat. That wasn’t good. Out here I felt like a perfect target. I looked around and quickened my pace.

It didn’t matter. He’d already found me . . . I could feel his eyes on me, clinging to my skin. Heat rose in my face. Two thoughts fought inside me at once: Not again. And: Finally.

The music changed without warning. A hard, driving rhythm filled my ears. The bass hit like a heartbeat, making my skin vibrate. I stopped walking and pressed my hand to my headphones. This wasn’t on my playlist.

"I want to fuck, to own, to tear you open. To crawl inside and never leave.”

My chest constricted. Heat flooded my face. I didn’t know this song. It was brutal. Obscene. It was exactly like him. I fumbled for the stop button on my phone, but there wasn’t one. The music kept going—metallic sounds that pulsed like a machine coming to life, a dark and driven melody that drilled into my bones. I turned the headphones off. The music stopped. Then started again.

"I will use you. I will ruin you. I will fuck you raw.”

All the air left my lungs. Every muscle locked. No. This was too much. And it wasn’t stopping. I tore the headphones from my ears, threw them to the ground, and ran. Ran until my lungs burned.

I stumbled into the library, gasping. Voices murmured between the shelves. Soft footsteps on stone. No one noticed me gripping the back of a chair to keep myself upright. I pulled a book from the nearest shelf. Byron. Keats. I had no idea. I sat, opened it, and stared at the pages. The words blurred.

That had been his message to me. That was what he wanted to do to me. The thought sent a shudder down my spine—and then my mind did something I couldn’t stop. I pictured Neo with a body. Pressing me against a wall. Hands twisting into my hair.