10

-MALCOLM-

I HOVERat North's door, unsure how to go in. Just going in seems too pushy. Do I knock? Do I call his name? Do I call his phone? Why am I overthinking this so much?

I clench my jaw and knock, and then call his name at the same time.

"Nolan?"

There's a pause long enough for me to think he might not be in there anymore, but then there's the sound of movement and he answers.

"What?"

I'm very aware that I'm standing in the hallway of a shared dorm. "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" Pause. "Please."

A longer pause. Then the door opens on North, still wearing my clothes that are slightly too big for him, but look great, nonetheless. His face is tight and closed off. Unreadable. I always wanted to wipe that dopey grin off his face, but not like this. I don't like this.

"Can I come in, please?" I ask stiffly. I have no idea what I'm going to say when I do get in, just that I need to fix things. He steps back, allowing me room, then closes the door behind me. The butt plug is on the bed. He's taken it out and cleaned it. Does that mean something? My mind races as I stand in the middle of the messy room with my hands at my sides, and he watches me.

"Well?"

This is possibly the most uncomfortable I have ever felt. But I want to own North, and this is just another step in that. I don't have to be emotional about it, I don't have to make myself vulnerable. I just need to be straightforward. Controlled. Businesslike.

"I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. You caught me off guard, but you have the right to ask questions and know what the situation between us is. I apologize for not making it clearer from the start where we would stand personally." I feel like I'm reading a teleprompter, looking at a fixed point over his left shoulder. "So, I would like to make it clear now to avoid any further misunderstandings. We are not in an official relationship, but I expect you to be exclusive with me when it comes to sessions, and I will do the same with you. No one else is allowed to Dom you, and I will not participate in any activities with other subs. But we are not in a romantic relationship, and I do not expect you to be exclusive in that respect, if that is something you require elsewhere. If you still agree with this and want to carry on with our arrangement, I would . . . enjoy that."

There is another longer pause. I want to peel my skin off.

"Also," the words crawl up out of my throat, dredged up from the deep, "I . . . don't hate you. If that wasn't clear from the way I've acted."

I risk a glance at him. He's got his arms crossed, working his jaw. "Why do you have to be like this with me?"

I steel myself. I can do this. "Like what?"

"Like, one minute we're having a great time, and then the next"—he shakes his head—"you're a different person. And you're fucking vicious. I get that you've got that dark broody thing going on, and I dig it, but there's a difference between stoic bad boy and a goddamn walking red flag. It's like you try to be as hurtful as possible." He makes a hot noise of frustration and for a panicked moment I think he's going to cry. "How the fuck am I meant to read all these different signals, Malcolm? You're all over the place!"

I'm a deer in headlights. I don't know what to say because, yeah, he's right. He lets out a long breath and rubs his hand through his hair, pushing the blond strands off his forehead.

"I like you, Malcolm. OK? Like, a lot. I don't know why, because you're always such an asshole to me. I guess I'm just dumb or something. But I do. And if you don't want it to be more than it is then that's fine, I won't push you. But that's all you had to say."

My throat is so tight I can feel my heart pounding in it. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say, I don't even know what to think.

"To be honest I don't know if I should be mad, or concerned, because there's obviously something wrong with your head that makes you like this."

I feel like if I move or speak, something terrible is going to happen to me. Danger lies on all sides. But if I just stand here and let his words wash over me, maybe I can survive. I can keep it all in and deal with it in private later.

North looks down at his shoes. "I mean, I get that I was stupid not taking the EpiPen out, so, I guess I'm not that mad about that. But I just want to know, why do you care so much?" His voice turns hopeful at the end.

Ok. that was a direct question. Time for me to speak. My throat works.

Say something.

My voice croaks on the words. "Because I . . . care about . . . your well-being."

He watches me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. Something in me tells me I need to hold his gaze, so I stare back into them. They're so blue. So different to mine.

Finally, he nods. "Ok."

"OK?"

There's a long pause. I can't tell if he's forgiven me or not. I hate it when I can't read him.

He nods. "Ok. But if you make me feel like shit again, I'm out. For good."

"Understood," I say. Trying not to sag with relief. It's over. I did it. Now I need to go and deal with everything somewhere else. "So, I will see you later. At the game."

"Right." He nods, one side of his mouth lifting in a half-hearted smile.

What happens now? I feel like there's something else I should do, but I don't know what. So I just leave, stiff as a robot. The heavy feeling of relief weighs down on me, and his words are a solid rock in my stomach.

I've fixed my mess, but I've got a whole lot to think about. And something else hovers at the front of my mind. For a moment back there, when he told me he likes me, I thought he was going to try to kiss me again.

And I don't know if I'm relieved he didn't . . . or disappointed.