Aiden: I did. Now I have to jerk off all alone while picturing you.

Erotic images fill my mind. Aiden fisting his cock in that rough, masculine way, thinking about me, and bringing himself to orgasm. Aiden’s godlike expression when he comes, the tightening of his abs, and the strength of his release.

I squirm in my seat.

Wrong thought in class. Extremely wrong.

I try to focus on Mr Huntington as he reads from the textbook.

“Did you punch the bitch queen again?” Kim whispers from beside me.

“No. Why?”

“She’s absent.”

I search behind me, and sure enough, Silver isn’t here either. Wait. My frantic gaze scans around the classroom.

Someone else is absent.

Adam Herran.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

I should’ve known better after I noticed the way he watched her and how he cornered her in the car park.

Would he really hurt her?

Shit.

If both Aiden and Cole are absent, does that mean they’re helping her?

My legs bounce during the entire class. I can’t concentrate no matter how much I try as all sorts of theories jump into my head.

None of them are good.

What if Adam hurts Aiden? What if something bad happens?

I mean, Aiden is usually the type who inflicts pain, not the other way around, but what if something goes wrong?

What if he’s taken by surprise?

I’m going crazy with one pessimistic scenario after the other.

Dread tightens my stomach as time slowly ticks by.

Come back.

Come back.

Come fucking back.

I retrieve my phone and type him a text.

Elsa: Where are you?

I delete it before sending it and choose to instead send him a late reply to his morning texts.

Elsa: I don’t dream, remember?

My heart lunges in my chest when my phone vibrates with a reply.

Aiden: I’ll dream for the both of us.

The memory hits me out of nowhere.

* * *

“I don’t remember my dreams,” I tell the boy with grey eyes.

He pinches my cheek. “I’ll dream for the both of us.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, Elsa.”

18

Elsa

Aiden shows up at school during lunch.

I visibly move from my seat the moment he walks into the cafeteria.

To do what?

Hug him? Kiss him?

What the hell, Elsa? Just because I was worried about him doesn’t mean I’ll jump in his arms.

I sit back down and move the fork in my lunchbox. Telling myself to focus on my food and ignore him doesn’t work. There’s no getting rid of Aiden. He’ll always be there. A constant. A nuisance. A thrill. He’s under my skin, flowing in my bloodstream.

Xander, Ronan, Knox, and Kim’s conversation fades into the background the closer Aiden comes.

I don’t have to look up to feel him. He’s in my bloodstream, remember? He flows inside of me. I’m conscious of him whether I like it or not. My senses are tuned to his confident strides, his all-powerful presence, and even his scent. I can smell it, clean and male and all him.

There’s no ounce of hesitation about where he’s heading. All the people in the cafeteria cease to exist in his eyes. It’s cruel, but it’s true.

Aiden doesn’t and won’t ever care about them.

However, he cares about me.

It’s in the way his features lighten upon seeing me even though his expression is still vastly unreadable. The way his entire body language points in my direction.

How could I have been so blind not to see it before?

Since we were children and even now, Aiden’s features only light up when I’m around.

You’re the only thing who breaks the endless vicious cycle.

He told me that once, but I was at a point where I doubted everything about him.

Did I ever believe a word he said? How did that make him feel?

True, he doesn’t act like a trustworthy person, and he pisses me off with his manipulations, but it’s also true that he never looks at anyone else the way he looks at me.

I was always trapped in my head and never thought of the situation from his perspective. Even when I did, I used it to outsmart him, not to actually understand him.

He stops in front of us. All tall and broad and... sexy.

Yes. He’s sexy and I can finally admit it to myself without him having to touch me.

Aiden is the sexiest person I know. Doesn’t matter if he’s the only sexual partner I had. No one in the world can emulate his intensity and dominance with my body.

The way I react to him has to do with his person as much as his touch.

“King!” Ronan taps the seat beside him. “Viens par ici.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge him, his entire attention settles firmly on my face. “Come with me.”

I stop pretending that I care about the food and glance at him. At how his uniform moulds to his muscular arms and thighs. At how the first button is open, revealing a hint of his tanned skin.

Shaking my head, I ask, “Come with you?”

“You’ll understand on the way.”

“Hello?” Ronan jumps to his feet and waves in Aiden’s direction. “I’m over here.”

“Move that pretty arse, sweetheart.”

I grab my bag and stand up.

Could be because of hearing him calling me sweetheart again.

Could be because of his damn authoritative tone that has my core all slippery.

Could be both.

Aiden remains motionless for a beat. He probably didn’t expect me to agree this willingly. I surprised myself, too, but I can’t fight it anymore.

At least not now.

Aiden’s pause lasts for a mere second before he wraps his hand around mine and leads me out of the cafeteria.

“Nice talk!” Ronan shouts after us.

I stare at Aiden’s hand surrounding mine. It brings back memories of the time when we were children.

Back then, I was always the one who held his hand and clung to him. I also shamelessly snuggled to his side and laid my head on his shoulder.

Who knew there would be a day when our roles would be reversed?

We slide into Aiden’s Ferrari and fly out of the school’s car park.

“Where are we going?” I finally ask, holding the backpack close to my chest.

Aiden concentrates on the road. “The Meet Up.”

“Why?”

“Nash asked to meet us there.”

Oh.

I try to fight the wave of disappointment but lose. We’re only going to the Meet Up because of Cole. Not that I should be disappointed.

I shouldn’t.

“Why did you come with me willingly?” he asks out of the blue.

“I… don’t know.” And I really don’t. I wasn’t in the right state of mind.

Maybe it’s because I was worried about him and was remembering the past.

Or maybe it’s because I miss him. I’m like a beggar, pleading for crumbs and glimpses of him to satiate the thirst and craving inside of me.

I hate myself for missing him. Why is it impossible to not miss him?

Tilting sideways, I watch him closely, his black hair and irresistible eyes that could tell a thousand stories. His built and his easy confidence.