Page 25 of Tangled in His Game

I’m dizzy, and I have to lean against the wall for support. Then I let myself slide down and hug my knees.

Don’t think about Sebastian.

Don’t think about Sebastian.

Don’t think about Sebastian.

But it’s impossible. Whenever I try to command my mind not to think about something, it does exactly the opposite.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I say to Sebastian as I get to my feet.

“Okay, baby.” He catches my arm and tugs me to him for a quick kiss.

As I make my way to the restroom, one of my classmates stumbles toward me, a bottle in his hand. He almost bumps into me, and I lift my hands up.

“Sorry, Noemi,” he mutters. “You’re pretty.”

“Thanks.” I give him a quick smile and rush to the restroom.

Once I’m out of my stall, someone rams into me so hard I scream. It’s Sebastian, and he shoves me against the wall.

“Why did you smile at him, huh?” he spits.

“I wasn’t... I...” Tears fill my eyes.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch! I saw you! I fucking saw you!” His hand shoots out and closes around my throat.

I close my eyes, pushing the memory away. Fucking Victor! Why did he have to do that? One photo, and it was enough to unravel me. I’m sure that son of a bitch is celebrating right now.

I get to my feet and find the restroom. The class will be over soon, and if anyone sees me like this, they’ll mock me even more. I don’t want everyone to know about Sebastian too.

Except, who knows what Victor will say? I’ll find out when everyone starts posting about it online. After splashing some water on my face and taking enough deep breaths, I’m ready to return to the hallway.

Some students glance at me, but no one seems particularly interested in me. Maybe Victor didn’t say anything. Right. Of course he didn’t. Doing that would’ve affected his grade and he wanted his presentation to be perfect. If he said something about me, the professor wouldn’t be happy about it. He only put that photo because he knew it would unnerve me.

As I pass by the classroom, I realize Victor is still there because he’s collecting his things. And he’s the only one.

I stride toward him,

“You’re a monster,” I say.

He arches his eyebrows. “What are you talking about now?”

“Where did you get that photo?”

“What photo?”

I groan. “Come on, don’t play dumb! You know what photo I’m talking about!”

“Are you talking about my presentation? Because I had a lot of photos, so you’ll have to be more specific.” The corners of his lips tilt up.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You know exactly what photo I’m talking about! The one that shouldn’t have been in your damn presentation because it’s a private photo!”

“I got all my photos off the internet, just like everyone else.” He stuffs his notebook into his bag, which he slings over his shoulder.

“Really? Am I supposed to believe that?” I stare into his eyes.

“You’re crazy.” He walks past me, his shoulder brushing mine.

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