Page 55 of Liar

It’s like I was seeing his soul before he jerked it back and shoved it down, deep inside the pit of himself before I could latch onto it.

That image of him haunts me as I straighten my uniform more than it should. I’m supposed to be sick over what I’ve done—both with Zeke and Thorne—but all I can think of is the addictive mix of pleasure and pain I’ve been exposed to.

I’m changing.

And I don’t care if it’s for the better or worse. My moral compass is shrinking, but I have to believe there’s enough of the old me left that I can still cling to doing the right thing and exposing Damion Briar for what he is.

I hope.

I peer into the hallway, ensuring no one’s around before hobbling through it and finding the nearest bathroom. Cleaning myself up is the first priority. I’m aching and sticky in places I’d never thought possible, but the walk isn’t too bad. When my thighs brush together, I’m reminded of Thorne, and the swelling turns into sweet fire. I never really pictured how I’d lose my virginity, but I can sure as hell say I didn’t think it would be both holes in two days.

It’s bad. It’s wanton. And it’s all Thorne.

Ugh, I’m already reminiscing. I hate the way my belly flips for it.

Pushing into the bathroom, I grab a wad of paper towels, soaking them in the sink, and start heading into a stall when I hear someone come in after me.

Thorne?

My vagina literally throbs at the thought. I don’t know if I can take another round with him, but my body sure wants to try.

Luckily, a girl rounds the tiled corner, holding a navy messenger bag. Aiko.

I pause with my hand on the open stall door. “Hi.”

Her eyes slide to the mirrors across from us as if regarding my reflection instead of the real me will prevent whatever curse I’m likely traveling with.

It’s not far from the truth, actually.

“I found this in the foyer.” She lifts the bag in the direction of the mirror. “I saw you drop it when, uh, when Thorne sort of…”

“Tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” I stroll forward, flinching only slightly when my body reminds me of the sweet damage he did. I lift the strap from her arm and put it on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

I’m eager to talk to her and desperate for a piece of how we used to be, but Aiko’s made it clear where she stands. I don’t want to push it.

With a sad tic of a smile, I turn away. Her voice stops me when I head back to the stall.

“I saw you. I mean—I followed you guys. To the classroom.” Aiko clears her throat, staring down at her feet as she shifts her weight.

I raise a brow. “Oh?”

I’m outwardly calm but internally freaking out. The classroom doors have a square of frosted glass. We didn’t turn the lights on. Thorne locked the door.

There’s no way Aiko saw us. But … heard us? Oh yeah, that could’ve 100 percent happened.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she continues. “It’s just, the way he manhandled you and how you yelled for him to let go—”

She has no idea it’s part of the games we play…

“I thought you were in trouble and wanted to help. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked, and, um, then I heard the kind of noise that meant you weren’t in trouble.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” I run a hand through my ruined ponytail, digging my fingers into my scalp in hopes of redirecting the humiliating heat in my face.

“Dude, you were in a classroom.” Aiko’s voice rises in times with her hands in a gesture of what the fuck?

And just like that, my embarrassment wanes. I start laughing.

Aiko shakes her head with furrowed brows. “What’s so funny, weirdo?”