CHAPTER 8 I wake up to strong, warm arms wrapped around me and a faint, woodsy scent. I sigh contentedly before snuggling closer to the hard body behind me. "It's too early for you to be grinding your ass on me," Jason groans. I flush deeply because I was indeed grinding my ass on him. "Oh. Sorry," I mumble, trying to shift away, but his hand presses into my lower stomach, holding me in place. "No, stay. I like it like this." He nuzzles his face into my hair, and I relax into his embrace, closing my eyes to savor the moment. But there's no way I can actually fall back asleep—not with his very obvious erection pressing against me. "Your dick isn't very comfortable," I mutter. "It would be if it was in you." A pause. Tension fills the air. It's like an unspoken rule between us—we don't talk about the attraction we have for each other. Before he can apologize, I blurt out, "Do you really like sex that much?" I don't know why I ask that. It just makes everything worse. I want to take it back, but before I can, he says, "It's not that, per se. It's more… sex with you that I'd really like. Thoughts of your body, the way you'd sound, the way you'd feel—it consumes me. Sometimes, it's all I can think about. That you and I could exist in a place in time just for us and our pleasure." I turn to look at him. "I want to be with you in every sense of the word—for the rest of my life." His eyes shine with sincerity, and I trust him. I trust this man with my heart and body, but keeping our relationship platonic is the only way for it to last forever. I feel like a broken record with how often I repeat this in my head. Everything in me wants to let go—to give him my all. But what if that's not enough? Sometimes, best friends are supposed to stay just that—friends. How could I possibly cope if this man—the one who breathes me into being—decides I'm no longer worth his attention? Would I cease to exist? The power he holds over me is why I'll keep resisting. I need to be my own person first. And I wonder if I can be while I'm with him. I push those thoughts away and focus on him. He can probably see all my thoughts floating around, but he doesn't call me out on it. Instead, he kisses my forehead before getting up. "Do you have a spare toothbrush?" he asks. "Yeah, check that drawer," I say, pointing. I hate that I have to reject him over and over. But I believe it's for the best. ---I get up and check if Naseera is back. I open her door and see she's still passed out. I laugh silently and make a mental note to leave her some painkillers. Back in my room, Jason is already dressed in his clothes from last night. My heart falls. I try not to look too disappointed. "You're not staying for breakfast?" I ask. "Is your roommate back?" he deflects. "Yes, she is." We stare at each other for a moment. He's running away. And it's my fault. I don't want to push him away, but that's all I do. "I'm sor—" I start, but he cuts me off. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'm going for a run." I nod, unable to speak because my throat feels tight. I watch him walk away, feeling worse for wear. Why does doing the right thing feel so awful? ---Breakfast on Saturdays isn't until 8:30, and Jason left before 6. Unable to fall back asleep, I decide to do some light yoga, then take a shower before studying. Naseera is still asleep, so I'll probably grab her something for breakfast. Saturdays are mostly free for me. I have a cheer meeting at noon, a debate club meeting at three, and an optional revision class at five. Then there's a prefect meeting at eight. Apart from that, I'm completely free. And I find myself… happy that I'll see Jason again today. I kind of like the head prefect role on him. He's hot when he's bossy. I giggle to myself. My mind drifts to the moment in the classroom, and heat spreads through my body. The way he looked at me. The things he said. I could barely breathe. I groan. It felt amazing—but I can't let it happen again. I'm only making things harder for us. Just the thought of him makes me horny now. This is going to be really hard. So was he. I bite my lip. That was such a dumb joke. I snort at my own thoughts. My subconscious is an idiot. As it nears 8:30, I throw on a pair of shorts and a school-issued top before pulling on my sneakers. My makeup is light, and I gather my hair into a messy bun before heading out. ---In the dining hall, I sit with a group of other seniors, scanning the room for Jason. But he's not here yet. Just as I'm looking around, someone suddenly drops into the seat next to me. I turn—and see an Italian guy from my class. I've never spoken to him before, but I think his name is Damien. His mom is a famous ballerina, and his dad is a politician. "Hey," I say. "Hey. You're Sienna, right?" "Yeah." "Damien." "Nice to meet you." "So… looks like we're partners for the literature project," he says. I had completely forgotten about that. I feel like such a dunce. "Oh. Yeah," I say awkwardly, trying to save face. "You totally forgot, didn't you?" he laughs. I laugh too. "It's cool. You're busy using that big brain of yours for other things." Yeah. Like thinking about Jason. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. And as if I summoned him, Jason suddenly appears—taking a seat at the same table I'm at.