12. Connor

Dinner with Brooke turned out to be surprisingly tolerable, a far cry from the tension-filled encounters we"d navigated since her arrival. Observing her across the table, I was taken aback by the contrast between her delicate appearance and her hearty appetite. Brooke Westwood, for all her dainty exterior, knew how to appreciate a good meal. It was a small revelation, but one that added yet another layer to my understanding of her, complicating my feelings in ways I wasn"t prepared to dissect just yet.

As the evening wore on, the inevitable approach of bedtime cast an awkward pall over us. I made it a point to give her privacy to change, turning my back to her as she slipped into her nightwear. When I finally turned around, I found her dressed in Christmas pajamas, the festive pattern so at odds with the somber mood between us.

She looked... adorable. It was an irksome realization, one that stirred a mix of annoyance and something softer, something I wasn"t ready to name, within me.

We both crawled into bed, each of us acutely aware of the invisible line dividing the mattress, ensuring a careful distance was maintained. The silence that enveloped the room was thick, a tangible barrier that neither of us dared to breach. Lying there, I couldn"t help but be acutely aware of her presence just inches away, the heat of her body a silent call I forced myself to ignore. The tension was almost a living thing, coiling tight around us, as we both pretended to seek sleep in the shared yet divided space.

Without a word spoken, I reached out to turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. The act felt final, a silent acknowledgment of the chasm that lay between us, filled with unspoken thoughts and unresolved tensions. In the quiet that followed, the only sound was our synchronized breathing, a reminder of the uneasy truce we"d forged in the absence of understanding.

Lying in the dark, I found myself caught between irritation and an unwelcome sense of protectiveness towards Brooke. Her presence in my life, once a source of straightforward revenge, had become something far more complex. As I drifted towards sleep, the image of her in those Christmas pajamas haunted me. It was a vulnerability I hadn"t expected from either of us, a shared moment of humanity that left me feeling more unsettled than I cared to admit.

I wokeup in the morning, momentarily disoriented, the soft weight against my shoulder and the gentle pressure of my arm around a waist that was definitely not mine. The realization dawned slowly, the groggy remnants of sleep clearing as I discovered Brooke and I had somehow gravitated towards each other in the middle of the night. Her head rested comfortably on my shoulder, a position that spoke of an intimacy we certainly hadn"t agreed upon. And there, at the corner of her mouth, a small dribble of drool marked the pillow—a detail that should"ve been unappealing, yet, to my own bewilderment, I found it endearingly human, even... adorable.

I allowed myself a moment to revel in the unexpected comfort of our entanglement, trying to memorize the feel of her against me. It was a peace, a warmth I hadn"t realized I was missing until that very moment.

Reluctantly, I extricated myself from the embrace, careful not to disturb her slumber. I didn"t want to give her any reason to accuse me of overstepping boundaries, not when things between us were complicated enough as it was.

Fuck, what was wrong with me?

As I retreated to the sanctuary of the bathroom, Brooke began to stir, a soft murmur of consciousness that I barely caught. By then, I was already closing the bathroom door behind me, the sound of running water soon drowning out any further signs of her awakening. The shower offered a chance to reset, to wash away the lingering warmth and the unsettling realization of how comfortable I felt with her in my arms. It was a moment of weakness I couldn"t afford to indulge in, a slip in the armor I had carefully constructed around myself. As the hot water cascaded down, I forced my thoughts away from Brooke and the surprising complexities she had brought into my life.

Anger surged within me, a reminder of the price I had paid, both in terms of money and pride, because of Brooke. How could I so easily forget the chaos she"d brought into my life? It infuriated me that moments of unintentional closeness could blur the lines of the grudge I held against her.

Part of me wanted to believe her claim of innocence, to accept that she hadn"t been the one to betray me. Yet, belief without proof was a luxury I couldn"t afford, a weakness I couldn"t allow myself. The risk of being so vulnerable, so open to further betrayal, was not something I could entertain, not when so much was at stake. The water sluiced over me, but it did nothing to wash away the resolve that hardened within me. I needed evidence, undeniable proof of her innocence, before I could even reconsider my stance. Until then, my guard had to remain impenetrable, my decisions firm and unyielding.

With the anger simmering just below the surface, I decided on a course of action. Brooke had deliberately ignored my instructions last night, choosing defiance over compliance. It was a challenge to my authority, one that couldn"t go unanswered. As I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, a plan began to form in my mind. She would be punished for yesterday, for every duty she had neglected, for every command she had ignored. It was a decision borne out of a need to maintain control, to remind both of us of the dynamics that defined our current relationship. The warmth of the shower was replaced by a cold determination as I prepared to face the day, ready to reinforce the boundaries that Brooke seemed so intent on testing.

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in just a towel, I was ready to grab some clothes and start the day. However, I was met with an unexpected sight. Brooke was there, buttoning up her long sleeve collared shirt, her presence in my room unanticipated. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in her gaze, a heat that she quickly masked before looking away.

"See something you like, Westwood?" I couldn"t resist taunting, seizing the opportunity to unsettle her further.

"As if," she retorted, her voice laced with feigned indifference.

I stepped into the room and headed over to my closet. "There"s a uniform modification you need to make since you were such a brat yesterday," I announced, enjoying the control I wielded in this moment.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confusion and irritation mingling in her voice.

"You didn"t clean or alphabetize," I reminded her, each word deliberate. "Which means you didn"t fulfill your duties. Which means you"ll be punished for it."

I watched her expression darken into a scowl, her displeasure clear.

"Why don"t you put on clothes before you issue orders?" she shot back, a weak attempt to regain some ground.

"Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?" I prodded further, a smirk playing on my lips, knowing full well the effect my proximity and state of undress had on her, despite her protests.

"Hardly," she claimed, but the slight hitch in her voice betrayed her. I knew the truth, even if she wasn"t willing to admit it.

"As punishment, you aren't allowed to wear panties today," I declared, watching her reaction closely.

Her outrage was immediate. "What? Do you know how cold it is?" she screeched, her frustration palpable.

"That"s not my problem," I replied, my smirk widening. "And since you"re in my class today, I"ll know." Her eyes flashed with stubborn defiance, but I was quick to quell it. "And don"t test me, Westwood. I"ve been lenient with you. You don"t want to know what I"m like when I"m not."

She looked as though she wanted to argue, to challenge my authority further, but then she stopped herself. Perhaps she was finally beginning to understand the extent of the control I had over her situation. In this game of wills, it was imperative that she knew where the lines were drawn.

"I hate you," Brooke bit out, her words sharp enough to cut through the tension that lingered in the air between us.

"I love you too," I replied, the sarcasm in my voice thick, a stark contrast to the venom in hers. "Now get out while I get dressed. Unless you want me to make you help me."

"Fuck off." With a frustrated stomp, Brooke stormed off, leaving me alone to get dressed.

By the time I had slipped into my clothes, she was gone, her absence marking a shift in the dynamics of our peculiar cohabitation. I smirked to myself, feeling as though I was finally gaining the upper hand, establishing a better footing in this twisted relationship of ours.

However, the moment of triumph was short-lived. As I turned on the television, hoping for a brief distraction, I was confronted with replays of the interview my ex-wife had done a few days ago. My expression darkened into a scowl, the images on the screen bringing back flashes of the emails I had read the night before. A surge of protectiveness for Brooke swelled within me, unexpected and unwelcome. Despite my intentions to make her suffer for her perceived transgressions, I couldn"t ignore the fact that, in some convoluted way, Brooke had become my responsibility. And with that responsibility came an instinct to protect her from the fallout of my past mistakes.

With a deep, unsettled sigh, I grabbed a muffin and an apple, deciding to head to class earlier than usual. My thoughts were a tumultuous mix of frustration, protectiveness, and a grudging recognition that I needed to fix this mess. Yes, Brooke was here to pay a debt, a pawn in my game of revenge, but she was also a person caught in the crossfire of a battle she had little to do with.

As I made my way across campus to my class, I couldn"t help but notice the Christmas decorations fucking everywhere. I blamed Brooke for my sudden awareness of the decor, for the fact that I even cared enough to notice. In any other year, the festive cheer would have passed me by, unnoticed and unappreciated. But now, everything seemed to remind me of her.

I arrived at the classroom early, seeking a few moments of solitude to clear my head before the onslaught of students. The quiet was a rare commodity, one I valued more and more as the days went by. However, as the room slowly filled with the buzz of pre-exam nerves and last-minute revisions, my attention was elsewhere. I found myself watching the door, waiting for Brooke. It was as if she knew, intentionally pushing the limits by waiting until the very last minute to make her entrance.

Turning my back to the door, I started writing the final exam details on the whiteboard, trying to focus on the task at hand. The meticulous listing of dates, topics, and expectations was a welcome distraction, a momentary escape from the swirling thoughts that had plagued me all morning.

When I finally turned around, ready to launch into the day"s lecture, my gaze immediately found Brooke. She was there, in her usual seat, a defiant look in her eyes that matched the challenge of the previous night. As our eyes met, she uncrossed her legs, a deliberate move that didn"t escape my notice.

I looked down at her legs…between them.

I couldn"t suppress the smirk that spread across my face—she wasn"t wearing panties, adhering to the punishment I had prescribed. The acknowledgment of my command being followed was a bittersweet reminder of the power dynamics that had come to define our interactions.

Fuck.

I looked away.

My dick stirred with want for her, remembering how wet she had been…

How tight.

"As you can see, we have a final in two weeks," I managed to get out, trying to focus.

But I couldn't help it.

Brooke fucking ruined me, and I was only realizing it now.