HisIndecentBoxSetpub (54 page)

“
I
should go.” And with that, I rushed to my car.

While I wasn't mad
at Colton, I really didn't know how to handle the situation. Me
leaving was the best course of action. We could discuss what had
happened later, when we were both more level-headed, if he even
wanted to discuss it at all.

For the rest of the
night, I worried over whether I had done the right thing. Should I
have let him kiss me? Maybe it would have helped me to sort out my
feelings. I think I knew deep down what my feelings were though.
Colton was cute and sweet, and maybe he was the better choice for me,
a better fit for my college lifestyle, but I loved Damien, and as
strange as our relationship was, I wouldn't trade him for the world.

Still, it didn't
hurt to think about what might have been. The night could have
progressed in a totally different direction if I had allowed him to
kiss me. We might have even ended up sleeping together.
Mmm.

Thoughts of sex
filled my brain, causing that annoying itch between my legs that I
wasn't allowed to scratch. When I got really sexually frustrated, I
rolled around my bed and rubbed my thighs together, hoping for any
small amount of stimulation. Was it still masturbating if I didn't
use my hands? Damien would think so. All I could do was groan and
wait for Sunday. Even though I would be punished, the night would
still end with me getting off, and that's all that mattered.

Half the time, when
I went over to his house, we didn't even have sex, but he always made
sure I had an orgasm before I left. At least one, sometimes more. Now
that I thought about it, I really would like more sex with him. It
was strange to think he'd go the whole week without sex and then not
be rabid for it on the weekends. Suspicion returned to my mind. Maybe
he did have something else going on behind my back.

I huffed at the
thought, trying to blow it away. No. He had said he was mine. But
then, why wasn't he more upset about me going out with Colton?

Maybe I should have
kissed Colton after all.

When I showed up at
Damien's door the next afternoon, it was confusion city all over
again. My mind had poisoned my emotions all day, questioning why
Damien and I didn't have sex more frequently. I would have to ask him
about it before it ate me alive.

He had barely opened
the door to me when he said, “Go home.”

My heart sank to my
feet, and I just gaped at him. “What?”

“
Did
I stutter? Go home and spend the week thinking about how you upset
me. When you come back on Saturday, your day will start with
punishment.”

“
Are
you kidding me? You just made me drive all this way to see you, and
now you're turning me away? You couldn't have sent me a text or
something? Gas isn't free, you know.”

His expression
betrayed no emotion. “You couldn't go a full week without
seeing him. I couldn't stop it. But I can keep you away from me. This
is the first part of your punishment, if it even matters to you.”

Was this really
happening? I couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.

“
So,
since I blew you off yesterday, you don't want to see me at all this
weekend?”

“
Go
home, Cheyenne,” he said, closing the door in my face.

Anger welled up
inside of me, and my body went into emotional overload. I had been
good. I had deflected Colton's advances, and this was how I was being
repaid. No. He was going to have to deal with me whether he liked it
or not.

With a scowl, I
pounded on the door. The gloves were about to come off. Fur was going
to fly, and by the time we were through, everything was going to be
laid out on the table. I wanted him emotionally stripped bare, as I
had felt all week long. I wanted to know if this was worth it.

His footsteps
retreated, and it only made me knock harder. “You get back
here!” I yelled at him through the door.

The footsteps didn't
return.

“
God
damn it, Damien! Stop being a brat. You get back here right this
instant, or I'm breaking this fucking door down!”

My knuckles ached
from rapping on the door. When I felt like I couldn't knock on it
anymore, I began kicking it, leaving black scuff marks on the paint.

For all of my
threats and kicking and thrashing though, the door would not budge,
and Damien wasn't coming back. His stubbornness enraged me even
further, but there was nothing I could do about it. Words were my
only weapon. If I screamed loud enough, he could hear me, so as a
last-ditch effort, I yelled, “Fine. I hate you. I never want to
see you again,” and walked away.

The second I got in
my car, I regretted it. What had come over me? What was wrong with
me? Part of me wanted to get back out, run to his door, throw myself
against it and apologize. But would that make him any more likely to
come out? I doubted it. The damage was done, and to save my pride,
all I could do was scurry off with my tail between my legs.

And
so I left, sobbing the entire way home, to the point where I could
barely see out my front windshield.
If I get into an
accident and die, it will be his fault. I hope he knows that. And if
he didn't, I would haunt him for the rest of his life.

I spent the rest of
the afternoon hating myself. Hating Damien. Regretting. Regretting.
Regretting.

At one point, I
thought about calling Colton, about telling him what had happened and
going over to his apartment for comfort. I knew where that would lead
though, and for as horny as I was, having sex would only make me feel
worse. Not because having sex would be bad, but because my mind just
wouldn't be into it. Damien would be on my mind, and that wasn't fair
to Colton.

Did it really matter
though? Were Damien and I over? Had my hateful words put the last
nail in the coffin of our dark relationship? And should I even care?
Anyone who made me feel that shitty didn't deserve my love. Did he?

Even though alcohol
wasn't usually my thing, I raided my father's liquor cabinet and got
couch-sloshing smashed in front of the television, constantly
flipping channels to find something happy to watch. It seemed like
every damned channel was playing some sappy bullshit romance movie,
to which I yelled “Boo!” at the television at the top of
my lungs. The neighbors probably thought I had gone insane, and they
wouldn't be far off the mark.

I woke up in a
puddle of vomit on the living room floor the next day. How I had
survived the night, I didn't know. My father's bottle of tequila was
halfway gone, and I didn't remember much of what I had watched. Class
had already begun, and I was far too ill to attend.

I spent the day
curled up in bed, nursing my hangover, drinking water and vomiting
stomach acid. The vomit could wait to be cleaned up until later. It
wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I.

Colton called to ask
why I hadn't been to class, sounding genuinely worried. When I told
him that I was hung over, he asked if I needed him to come take care
of me. It was a sweet thought, and while it certainly would have been
nice to have been pampered and cared for, I really didn't feel like
being around anyone. At least, he didn't seem upset about my
rejection on Saturday. He never brought it up, so I figured
everything was okay between us.

That night, I stared
at my phone, wondering if I should even bother sending Damien his
nightly text. If I did, and he didn't respond, that meant we were
over.

Did I even want a
relationship with him anymore? When I had been with Colton, I was
confused, but I knew where my heart was. Now, I wasn't so sure. This
fight had provided me with an opportunity, an easy out, if I wanted
to take it, if I hadn't already taken it. Besides, who was the one
willing to rush to my side and take care of me? It wasn't Damien.
That was for sure.

Against my better
judgment, I did text Damien, telling him I had stayed home from
college, and I was sorry for the way I had acted. Then I stared at my
phone until I passed out, waiting for him to respond.

In the morning, I
had zero text messages. There was my answer. It was over between us.

I went to school
with a heavy heart and a tear-stained face. My mind was filled with
regret, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and die. If I
hadn't taken Monday off of school, I would have definitely stayed
home, but I couldn't afford to get any further behind. Between
classes, I cried in the bathroom. During lunch break, I sobbed over
my sandwich. The day was absolutely miserable.

When I blew Colton
off to hang out after school, he looked concerned, but didn't press
me. Part of me was thankful, since breaking down in front of him
would have been embarrassing. But the other part of me just wanted to
be held and comforted. I wanted warm arms around me and a soft voice
whispering in my ear that everything would be alright.

For that, I went to
my mother's house. When I showed up at her door in all of my
miserable glory, she embraced me immediately, and when I told her
what had happened, she said all the things I wanted to hear, that
Damien wasn't good enough for me, that there were other fish in the
sea, that my heart would mend with time. How much time? How long
would it take? I had suffered heartbreak before, but it had never
felt so horrible. Maybe it was because Damien had been out of my
league from the beginning. It wasn't natural for us to be together. I
never should have had him.

My mom and I ate ice
cream and watched Animal Planet together until it was so late she
practically had to kick me out. We exchanged a lingering embrace
before I finally left and headed home, feeling a little better. The
uncontrollable sobbing had stopped, and the tears had dried on my
cheeks. At least, that was an improvement.

Before I fell asleep
that night, I sent Damien another text, though I didn't know why. In
the morning, there was no response again, which only made me cry some
more. He was avoiding me. Knowing that hurt.

While I was still
upset, I was able to keep the sniffling to a minimum. Occasionally, a
happy memory of Damien and I together would invade my brain, and I
could feel my eyes watering, but I would quickly push it to the back
of my mind, trying to regain my focus on school work.

Colton asked me if I
wanted to talk about what was wrong, but I told him no. I wasn't at
one hundred percent yet, and I didn't want to chance getting overly
emotional. It made me happy to know he wanted to be my friend
though—that he was still an option.

I continued to text
Damien every night, though I knew it wasn't healthy. By Thursday, I
felt considerably better. Him not responding wasn't bothering me near
as badly as it had. I even got a slight kick out of thinking he was
probably considering changing his number since I wouldn't stop
harassing him.

That night, I hung
out with Colton. We studied and watched television together, and I
was thankful he didn't hit on me. While I was attracted to him, and
would probably eventually act on it, I still needed time to heal.
When the moment was right, I would tell him that my relationship with
Damien was over, and we could take things from there. Until I was
ready though, it was best for him to think I was still off-limits.

On Friday night, we
went out with Tanya and Vinny to a restaurant. When they asked me
questions about Damien, I was vague with my responses, though I knew
Tanya could see the pain behind my eyes. I couldn't hide anything
from her, and when we went to the bathroom together at one point, she
managed to worm a partway confession out of me. All I could tell her
was that there was trouble in paradise, but that I'd figure
everything out, and she didn't need to worry about me. She simply
said that she knew Damien, and I would fall apart sooner or later,
which didn't make me feel any better. In fact, it bugged me so much
that I reflected on it for the rest of the night.

Had our relationship
always been set up for failure? Did relationships between students
and their professors ever work out? Or had it been the BDSM that
finally did us in? I chose to believe the later of the three. If he
hadn't been so damn strict, this never would have happened.

Before we left the
restaurant, I gave Colton a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smiled
warmly at me, his eyes flooding with excitement. I couldn't help but
grin at the fact that he was so easy to please.

“
What
was that for?” he asked.

“
Just
for you being here for me. You're a really good friend. I'm glad we
met.”