25. Blair

I n a matter of three hours, I have finalized my English paper, which isn't due for another week; reviewed my notes from my Econ class; and finished all of my English homework. Griffin should be done in about an hour, so I want to try to create an outline for my History essay, which is due at the end of the week.

Standing out of my chair, I stretch my legs and pull my earbuds out, tucking them into their case before storing them in my bag.

I need to find a few books about the Civil War. This also means I need to figure out where the hell the History section is.

After finding the directory in the center of the room, I walk up the stairs to the second floor and find the shelves that house the books I need. I only have to have three references, and it shouldn't be hard to pull something from any of these.

After grabbing a few different ones, I carry my stack back downstairs, but not before running into one of the librarians.

"Did you need help with anything, dear?" the kind blonde lady with soft green eyes asks me.

"I think I found everything I need." I smile at her before striding past.

That can be true about more than just these books. In a way, I found everything I need this semester. I found a way to pay for my dream school. I found a way to get Dad the treatment he desperately needs. But perhaps the most shocking discovery was that the one person I thought was just a cocky jock at the beginning of the year has become one of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't imagine not being by his side.

Who knew that HEAU would change my life in so many ways?

As I approach my desk, I page through one of my books, already bored by the reading material. I'm sure history books interest a particular group of people, but I am not part of that group.

When I look up from the book, my stomach falls to the floor, and the books tumble from my hand, crashing down. Every hair on my body stands on end as ice-cold shivers run from my head to my toes, chilling me to the bone.

Hesitantly, I take a step forward. My eyes burn as I see the photos sprawled atop my stuff. Photos that definitely weren't there when I left a few minutes ago. My throat ignites, and tears of fear form in my eyes as I study each image—shots of me outside of Griffin's house, at his hockey games, in my classes, walking on campus, and then the ones that rattle me to my core. Pictures of me in my bedroom of my old house, the one back in my hometown. Pictures of me from different high school events from my senior year and even images of me here in Evermore before school started.

"Oh my God," I whisper and stammer backward, falling into a firm chest.

An arm snakes around my waist at the exact same time one slides over my mouth, stifling the scream tearing from my lungs. His lips hit my ear, and I shiver in disgust from his touch.

"Can't you see it? How perfect we are together? We're meant to be together, Blair. We always have been."

Run. Break free and run.

As much as I try to urge my body to move, I can't. I'm frozen in place in the arms of my nightmare.

"I'm going to remove my hand. Do not scream. Am I clear?" His voice is cold and calculated.

Nodding, I fight back the tears pooling in my eyes. Should I do what he said? Or should I shout and take off running? I know there's a librarian around here somewhere, and there have to be other students too.

But faced with fight or flight, I apparently choose a third F option I never considered—failure.

He drops his hand, and I take a deep breath, wiping his touch from my mouth.

"You've always been mine, Blair Bear. These photos are proof of that. I've been in love with you since the first day I met you. But every time I tried to get close to you, you shut me out, not giving me a chance until our senior year. But we both know that didn't last long." His hand on my waist travels lower, his fingers slipping into the top of my skirt. "And then, by some miracle, I ran into you here and we got back together. I thought after spending a little more time with me, you'd realize what I'd always known—that we're soulmates."

I remain silent, rigid as stone, as he continues, "But then you had to go and ruin everything we'd built." His fingers dig into my skin, and I do my best not to react. His words are like knives. "Then, that damn hockey player got in the way. He distracted you, ruined you. You fucked up."

Shaking my head, I lie, doing anything I can to keep Grant under control, "It's nothing, and I'm sorry."

He scoffs, pressing his lips into my neck and kissing me. "Did you let him touch you, Blair?"

"N-no, never," I lie again.

"Hmm," he hums into my ear and sinks his hand further down my skirt. "He didn't touch you here?"

I have to change the topic and make him focus on something else. Slowly, I spin in his grasp, and he removes his hand, sending relief through me. But it's quickly replaced by terror when I meet his eyes.

How can I look into the eyes of a person I've known for years now, but I suddenly don't recognize them or the darkness dwelling inside? Was he good at hiding it? Did I pretend it simply wasn't there?

Maybe I've known all along that something wasn't quite right with Grant, and that's why I ignored him for as long as I did. I mean, I only started going out with him because it seemed like the right decision. He was cute and into me, and honestly, I was just tired of rejecting him. I thought maybe he was right that maybe we would be good together.

He was, in fact, very wrong .

"Why are you here, Grant?" I ask him, summoning the strength to reach up and caress his cheek.

"To remind you," he grunts before crashing his lips to mine, and I slam my eyes shut and try not to shove him away.

My body chills instantly, freezing me in place. I make no effort to kiss him back, but I don't pull away. I don't want to make him angrier than he already is.

He draws back and studies me carefully. "It doesn't feel like you mean it."

Silence consumes us as I stare up at him, anticipating his next move.

"Let's go," he snaps, twisting my arm as he walks away, dragging me along with him.

Digging my heels into the ground, I pull back. "What? I'm not going anywhere." He glares at me, and I add, "I have work to do. I'm not finished."

"Leave it. I'll come back and get it later," he says, yanking me forward again.

"I can't just leave my stuff here." My words fumble out of my mouth as my chest tightens and my lungs burn with fear.

He grabs my jaw in his grasp, squeezing hard. "I don't want to hurt you. I really don't. But you are coming with me whether you like it or not. I know the perfect place for us to rekindle what you've lost."

"Grant, are you out of your mind?" I snap, my words slicing into him as he winces from my tone.

His face falls and twists menacingly. "What did you just say?"

I'm over this. I'm over dealing with him and all of his games. I'm over the anxiety coursing through my body every time my phone vibrates.

"You can't make me. You don't control me, Grant. I'm not your toy." I emphasize my words confidently and strongly, even if I don't fully feel that right now.

He huffs and slides his backpack off of him and reaches inside. "Well, if I can't persuade you, maybe this can."

As he pulls his hand from the backpack, my eyes lock on to the cold metal—a gun.

He hooks the straps on his other arm, holding the gun inside the thin fabric. "If you try to run, I will shoot you. If you scream and someone comes to help, I will shoot them . If you do as you're told, no one will get hurt. Okay?"

I whisper as the tears I've held back drop onto my cheeks. "Okay, I'll come with you. Will you tell me where we're going?"

The hope I felt a moment ago vanishes, and I know I only have one choice. If he has gone this mad, this deep into his fantasy, I don't know what he will and won't do, and I don't want to find out what will happen if I tell him no again.

If I play into his wants, he'll relax, get comfortable, and eventually slip up. Then, I'll make my move. But I can't let anyone else get hurt. I won't. I'll wait until we're alone, even if the thought of it churns my stomach.

"The place where we first kissed after we got back together," he whispers, his lips pressed against my ear. "Oh, don't cry. We haven't even gotten to the happiest part yet."

Sniffling, I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks as he leans his forehead against mine and presses the gun firmly against my stomach. "Tell me you love me."

No.

"I l-lo—" The words fall silent from my lips, and he digs the barrel harder into me.

"Say it like you mean it, Blair Bear, or it doesn't count," he growls.

Closing my eyes, I picture the only person I can imagine saying it to. An image of soft brown hair falling over his hazel eyes warms me, giving me the facade I need to pull this off.

Griffin, "I love you."

He grins and presses his lips against mine. "That was good, almost believable. Now, move."

"Grant, please," I beg one last time, leaning away from him.

He grabs my hair and yanks hard. "Blair, move your sexy little legs before I put a bullet into one of them. I'll be forced to carry you, but at least then you won't be able to run."

Oh my God.

He jerks my hair once more, and my hair falls free from the bow holding it in place. He releases me and brings his hand between us. My black bow is in his hand, crinkled from his fist.

He turns his hand over and opens it, and the ribbon falls, crashing to the floor. "I've always hated these."