Page 87 of Please Hate Me

The words stuck in my throat like cement, but I needed to get them out. I’d probably explode if I didn’t.

“Do you love me?”

It was a pathetic question. I wouldn’t expect her to answer with anything other than a firm“no.”But after Lucian’s comment earlier, I couldn’t get this out of my mind. I had no sense of subtlety—I literally could not recognize flirting unless a third party pointed it out for me. If I wasn’t outright told that someone liked me, I’d never see it. Normally, I was fine with the unknown, but now the idea that Sophiamightlove me was too exciting to leave as amaybe.

She inched closer to me as a subtle glow took over her cheeks. She threaded her fingers through my hair, just below the bow she’d made me wear. The second her eyes met mine; it felt like the hummingbird in my chest did a line of coke. I thought I might explode.

“Of course I love you,” she breathed. “I never stopped.”

The world around me ceased to exist as I watched her, completely stuck. I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Tingles ran down my back as Sophia combed through my hair, massaging every inch of my scalp before resting a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you say it back… yet.” She winked.

But that wasn’t it. I wanted to tell her I felt the same, but I was unable to make a sound. I knew to love me was to be hurt, and I didn’t want that for Sophia. She deserved a life full of love and happiness, like the one she had now. I was pure chaos; she didn’t deserve years of bearing with me while I healed from traumas she had no part in inflicting upon me.

If she really loved me, would it hurt her when I inevitably left again? Or instead, this time, maybe she’d hurt me.

Isn’t that what I deserve?

I shook the thought from my mind as she turned back to the rack.

“Hey, do you mind if I pick a couple things out for you?” she asked, her fingers lingering on some velvety maroon fabric. “You’re like a little doll, and I’ve missed dressing you up.”

I forced the lump in my throat down with a nod. I’d do anything I could to keep her happy. I may not have deserved her love, but I desperately wanted it.

Sophia sorted through rack after rack, picking out armfuls of clothes and bringing them to the dressing room. It took what felt like an hour for me to try it all on. Everything fit just fine, but I didn’t like most of her choices. It was all the same stuff my dad’s stylist would have chosen for me: black, slightly too masculine, and edgier than I ever wanted to be. But, as I examined my current outfit in the mirror, wearing the maroon skirt she picked out with a white button-down that had black ribbon accents, I didn’t hate what I saw.

I turned to look at my butt in the mirror, and I loved the way the faux velvet clung to my new curves. My hand rested on my left ass cheek, and a pleasant sting radiated from my touch. That’s when I remembered Lucian and his tattoo gun. My pussy throbbed just thinking about it.

Earlier, he said he proved I belonged to him, but he didn’t actually say what he’d done. I wound my fingers in the hem of my skirt, letting my imagination wander as I inched it up my thigh.

A knock at the changing room door made me jump, halting my exploration.

“Masie, I got a couple more things. Are you decent?” Sophia called.

I swallowed hard and smoothed my skirt before pretending like nothing happened. “Y-yeah! Here, I’ll crack the door open, and you can—”

Sophia pushed the door open and entered, several sets of lingerie hanging from her forearms.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Bringing you a few bras to try on.”

“You can’t be in here.”

Sophia leaned against the door, sliding the lock back into place.

“Why? We’re both girls.”

Sophia stepped closer, and the heat from my core started to climb up my chest. There was a smirk on her face as my back hit the mirror. Was there a polite way to tell her I didn’t want her to see me naked like this?

“Is my little Honeybee nervous?” she teased, placing her palms on either side of my shoulders as she looked down at me. Sophia was shorter than all of the men, but she was still nearly a foot taller than me, meaning I was exactly at eye level with her tits.

“Aw, you’re so red.”

A squeak escaped my lips, and my heart thundered.

“We’re going to get in trouble.”

---