20. Archer

20

ARCHER

T he other night has been stuck in my head since the moment Lyric left. I can't stop replaying everything that happened.

She was so good for us, endured everything without complaint, without begging. I felt so connected to her after, as I held her in my arms and teased an orgasm out of her. It's making me rethink everything. There's still anger, still bitterness, but now it's tangled up with something else. Something I don't want to admit.

I sit in class, absently drumming my fingers on the desk, lost in my thoughts. I hear the door open, look up, and spot Lyric, my eyes widening in shock.

She's changed her look—shorter hair, styled in a way that frames her face perfectly. She's wearing a tight black tank top under a white sweater, black leggings that hug her curves, and pink heels that add a splash of color. A black choker sits above a delicate silver chain that rests on the tops of her breasts, which now sit high in a lace bra that peeks out just above the edges of the tank.

She's got makeup on too, subtle but enough to make her eyes stand out. I've never seen her look like this before. I swallow and she gives me a smoldering look, brimming with confidence, as though she knows exactly what she's doing to me.

She walks over, her hips swaying with each step and sits down next to me. She leans in slightly, her voice low and flirty. "Hello, Archer."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. "Lyric," I respond, my voice rougher than I intended.

She smiles, a teasing glint in her eyes. "What's the matter?" she asks, playing dumb. "You look like you saw something you've never seen before."

"Maybe I did," I tell her, flirting right back. "I think I might have seen the most beautiful woman in my entire life cross my path."

A blush streaks across her cheeks, reminding me that she's still the same Lyric underneath the clothes and makeup.

"Too bad you can't handle a beautiful woman," she says, leaning back in her chair.

Or maybe not, I think, enjoying her flirtation. "I can handle anything you throw at me," I say in response, a chuckle escaping me.

She crosses one thick leg over the other as she pulls her books out of her bag. "Well, you can start by letting me borrow your pen," she says, holding a hand out.

I pass her the pen, then rifle through my bag to grab another, not even thinking about it. "Good boy," she purrs, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

What the hell is Lyric doing today? She's completely changed, practically overnight. This is a new side of her, one I'm not sure how to handle. But damn if it isn't making things even more complicated.

"Did you work on your part of the presentation?" she asks, pulling her purse up and popping in a stick of gum. I watch as she wraps her lips around it and starts chewing, distracted from her question.

"Arch," she says, nudging me in the side. I jolt out of my trance and blink.

"Oh, yeah, I already started it," I tell her, a little dazed at the new scent she's wearing. It's spicy, with a note of tropical fruit and jasmine, vastly different from the sweeter lavender-and-vanilla scent she usually wears.

"You're being the best little boy today, aren't you?" Lyric says, giving me a titillating look as she pouts her lips. "I'm so proud of you."

"Wait, what the hell is this?" I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper as the professor walks in. "You're acting weird, Shaw. What's going on?"

"Just reminding you that I might belong to you, but I'm still my own person," she fires back in a whisper. "I can dress how I want and act how I want, even if you control everything else about me."

This change in attitude is throwing me for a loop, but some part of me likes the way she snaps back. "Oh? What if I punish you?" I ask, tracing a finger over her thigh.

"You'll have to catch me first," she says, a little giggle escaping her as she leans down to take notes.

The professor starts class, but I can still feel Lyric's presence next to me like a live wire. She's sitting closer than she needs to, her shoulder brushing mine occasionally. It's distracting, but I try to focus on the lecture.

Now and then, I catch her glancing at me from the corner of her eye, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. When the professor turns to write on the board, she leans in and whispers, her breath warm against my ear, "You look tense, Archer. Rough night?"

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down my spine. "Just focused," I reply curtly, my eyes fixed on the front of the room.

She chuckles softly, a sound that's both infuriating and enticing all at once. "Sure, you are."

A few minutes later, I feel her foot brush against mine. I glance at her and she's looking straight ahead, pretending to take notes, but there's a sly grin on her face. I shift in my seat, trying to create some distance, but she follows, her foot resting against mine.

When the professor asks a question, Lyric raises her hand. She gives me a smirk before turning to answer in a voice full of that newfound confidence, with almost a hint of teasing. I feel all eyes drawn to her as she speaks, something prickling under my skin.

Once the professor turns back to the board, Lyric grabs her phone and shoots off a text. A moment later, mine dings and I dig it out of my pocket, glancing around to make sure no one is watching. It reads, Wanna meet in the bathroom after class?

I swallow hard, feeling a mix of frustration and intrigue. When I look at her, she's biting her lip, her eyes challenging me.

"Why?" I whisper, leaning closer, unable to resist the pull.

She shrugs, her smile widening. "You'll see."

Throughout the rest of the class, she continues her subtle assault on my senses—tapping her pen against her lips, crossing and uncrossing her legs and brushing her fingers against my arm as if by accident. By the time the lecture ends, I'm barely holding it together.

As we pack up our things, she stands up, her movements slow and deliberate. She looks at me, her eyes dark with something I can't quite name. "Don't keep me waiting," she says, and with that, she saunters out of the room.

I sit there for a moment, trying to collect myself. Damn, she's good. Too good. She has to be up to something. I'm starting to believe that this is all a big plot to misdirect us, something she cooked up after the punishment scene. She's clearly trying to punish us back in her own way.

I lick my lips as I contemplate what to do. If I go meet Lyric in the bathroom, I might enjoy myself, but if I leave her hanging, I can regain the control that's been slowly slipping through my fingers during all of class.

But on the other hand, not showing up could make things worse. She might see it as a victory, a sign that she's getting to me. And if she's planning something, I need to be ahead of it. I need to know what she's up to.

I glance around the now-empty classroom, the echoes of the day's lesson fading into the background. My gut tells me this is a bad idea, but I can't shake the feeling that I need to see where this leads.

With a sigh, I stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. As I make my way out of the room, my mind races with possibilities. I need to be prepared for anything. Lyric Shaw is no pushover and if she's playing a game, I need to be ready to outplay her.

As I head down the hall, I spot her leaning against the bathroom door, her eyes scanning the crowd. She catches sight of me and straightens up, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Determination sets in and I stride over to her, closing the distance between us in a few quick steps. Without a word, I pull her close, my hand tangling in her hair as I press my lips to hers. She stiffens for a moment, then melts into the kiss, her hands gripping my shirt. The kiss is intense, filled with a mix of anger and something else I can't quite place.

When I pull back, she's breathless, her eyes wide with surprise. "What was that for?" she asks, her voice a mix of confusion and desire.

"Just reminding you who's in charge," I reply, my voice low and rough. I see a flash of defiance in her eyes, but I'm not giving her the chance to turn this around on me.

Before she can react, I take her hand and start leading her away from the crowd, toward the dorms. She resists for a moment, then falls into step beside me, her curiosity evident.

"Where are we going?" she demands, trying to sound tough but failing to hide the tremor in her voice.

"You'll see," I say, not bothering to look back at her. I'm determined to turn the tables on her, to show her that I'm not the one to mess with. Whatever game she's playing, I'm going to make sure I come out on top.