46. Forcing The Spotlight

CHAPTER 46

Forcing The Spotlight

WREN

The cafeteria buzzes with whispers as I hold her in my lap. Every eye is on us, on her , just like I want. My invisible girl, finally being seen. The students who have walked past her for years without noticing suddenly can’t look away. They are seeing what I’ve seen all along. How fucking perfect she is when she stops hiding.

Her fingers tighten around the edge of the table. Her spine is ramrod stiff, refusing to lean against me, and her head is lowered so she can’t see anyone around her. Everything she’s doing is designed to make her less visible, make this less real.

“They’re all looking at you.” My thumb strokes circular patterns on her thigh. “You've never been the center of attention before, have you?”

She swallows, but doesn’t respond.

“Look around, Ballerina. Take in just how visible you are right now.”

Her head gives a tiny shake, but her eyelashes lift, gaze darting around the room, catching on faces staring in our direction. The whispers grow louder.

“ Is she new?”

“No, she’s been here forever, I think.”

“Did you know she and Wren were a thing?”

“No way. She’s nobody. Why would he …”

I run my fingertips down her spine, just the lightest of touches, and a shiver runs through her. The color in her cheeks deepens the more people talk around us.

“Do you hear them? The things they’re saying about you?”

Impossibly, she stiffens more. “Please let me go.”

I laugh softly. “Let you go?” My hand squeezes her thigh, thumb brushing over her pussy through her jeans. “Why would I do that? Not when you’re finally being seen.”

“She looks so nervous,” one of the cheerleaders says, her voice just loud enough to carry. “Why is she even sitting there?”

“You don’t think Wren’s forcing her, do you?” another whispers.

“You think he’d have to? Have you looked at him? I’d do anything he wanted, and you know you would too.”

Ileana’s cheeks turn bright red, her head dipping lower.

“You want to disappear again, don’t you?” I kiss the base of her throat. “Sorry, Ballerina, but I’ve worked too hard to let that happen.”

Lottie walks by, her tray balanced in her hands, gaze fixed on Ileana. Her steps falter, lips parting as though she’s about to say something. I lean back in my seat, wrapping my arm around Ileana’s waist, and pull her more snugly against me. Lottie’s expression tightens, and she continues walking past to join her cheerleader friends.

My lips find Ileana’s ear again. “She warned you about me, didn’t she? That day in the library. Tried to tell you to stay away?”

“Maybe I should have listened.” The words are uttered so softly I almost miss them.

“Feisty, Ballerina. I like it.” I nip her earlobe. “But you didn’t. And now, here we are.”

From the table next to us, a burst of laughter rings out. One of the football team leans forward, nudging his friend.

“You think she’s with him for real? No fucking way.” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice.

“He’s got to be screwing with her,” his friend replies. “Bet she’s losing her mind.”

I turn my head and look at them, then slowly bring one hand up to Ileana’s jaw. Turning her head toward mine, I kiss her. A collective gasp rings out around the entire room. Monty and Nico laugh.

“They’re wondering what’s happening under the table,” I whisper against her lips. My fingers toy with the zipper on her jeans. “Do you think they can guess?”

“Stop it!” She twists her head away. There’s fire in her voice, anger barely held in check, and my dick hardens more at the proof that I’m getting under her skin.

“Stop? You say that, but you’re still here. Still letting me touch you. Still letting them see.”

The bell rings, a jarring sound that breaks the moment. I release her slowly, letting my hands fall away as she scrambles off my lap. Her movements are hurried, stiff, her shoulders drawn tight as she walks quickly toward the exit. The whispers follow her, growing louder as she moves, a ripple of attention she can’t escape.

I stay where I am for a second or two longer, before getting to my feet and following her. She can’t escape from me. We share the next class. Monty and Nico fall into step either side of me, and we take the same route, staying just a few feet behind her. She knows I’m following her. It’s clear in the way she’s walking, refusing to look around, and there’s no surprise on her face when I take the seat behind her in the classroom.

She doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know she’s aware of every move I’m making.

When the teacher starts talking, I lean forward, and drag the tip of my pen between her shoulder blades.

“You’re so quiet. Not like last night. Are you still thinking about all those eyes on you?”

She flips a page in her notebook. “Be quiet.”

I smirk. I like seeing her like this. Finally breaking free of the restraints that have held her silent. I take a photograph out of my pocket and stretch out my hand so I can place it on the edge of her desk. She doesn’t notice at first, her pen moving across the page as she takes notes. But then she falters, eyes locking onto the image.

A shot from last night. Of her leaning out of the window, breasts on display, nipples hard, moonlight catching her just right .

She snatches it up and shoves it into her bag, face bright red.

“You look beautiful when you stop hiding. You should thank me for making you visible.”

She doesn’t respond, and I leave her alone for the rest of the class. When it ends, she bolts from her seat, and is out of the door before anyone else moves.

“I can’t decide if you really like her, or just want to fuck with her head.” Monty stops by my desk.

“Why can’t it be both?”

He shakes his head, laughing.

She’s standing at her locker when I catch up to her. I step up behind her, and rest my hands either side of her head, so I can lean close.

“Do you regret it?”

She slams the locker shut and whirls to face me.

“Before you claim you don’t know what I’m talking about, consider where we are, and the things I could say. If you thought the cafeteria was bad, I can get so much worse.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she looks away. “Why does it matter?”

“Because it does. And you know why.”

“You think you know everything.” There’s that mutter again. It heats my blood.

I move closer, until there’s barely any space between us. “Last night, you didn’t just let me touch you. You wanted it. You invited me in. And now?—”

“Wren, please stop.” But she doesn’t try to move away. She stays exactly where she is, eyes locked on mine.

“See.” My head tilts. “You’re not running anymore.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. She just stares at me, caught between defiance and realization. Then she pushes past me, and runs down the hall. My laughter follows her.

“You’re taking stalking to whole new levels.” Nico props one shoulder against the lockers.

“Some people might call it stalking. I call it art.”

The art of breaking someone so completely that they beg to be put back together.

By you.

Only you.

Always you.

And Ileana? She's my masterpiece in the making.