Page 79 of Every Hidden Truth

I didn’t have to fear him. This bathroom was located in the center of the school, and it was the middle of the day. He couldn’t hurt me without risking discovery. It would be the most humiliating thing I ever did, but I was more than willing to scream bloody murder to attract attention if the psychopath tried to touch me.

Straightening my posture, I jutted out my chin and held his stare. His amusement darkened to something more sinister, and his lip curled. “Best watch where you’re going, faggot.”

He shouldered past, the hit rattling my bones, but I didn’t miss the pass of his hand over my bare arm. My frozen limbs thawed as I scampered toward the exit, desperate to get out of range of his long arms.

His dark eyes flared in satisfaction, his gaze scanning me perversely. “Wouldn’t want you getting yourself or your pretty boyfriend into trouble, now would we?”

At the threat to Ben, my courage swelled, and I bared my teeth like an animal. “Suck my big, gay cock. Bitch,” I added, and his smug grin dropped from his face.

Not waiting for him to retaliate, I turned and ran. I sprinted back to class like the devil was on my heels, simultaneously terrified and exhilarated. It felt good to stand up for myself, but my mouth had a knack for getting me into trouble.

Ben knew nothing of the encounter, and I kept it that way. If I told him, Crazy Ben would come out to play. No matter how much I loved the image of Boyt beaten to a bloody pulp at the hands of my sexy boyfriend, it wasn’t worth the risk of Ben being expelled or, worse, arrested.

Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to protect Ben in a physical sense, but if my silence kept him safe and happy, I would glue my lips shut. He’d been through enough, hadn’t he? His dad was a monster, and the loss of his mom remained an open wound. The foster system sounded like a nightmare, and he’d been expelled once already. If he got expelled again, he’d lose his scholarships and his entrance to MIT.

He might consider the losses a logical price to pay for Eric getting what he deserved, but to me, it wasn’t worth it. So I buried the truth deep in my gut, covering it with layers of more harmless insecurities for Ben to discover.

Some things were better left in the ground.

“You know,” Ben said,eyes on his bedroom ceiling as I lounged between his open legs, my chin on his stomach, “the meet with Central is this Thursday.”

“Oh, it is?” I circled his navel with my index finger, and his belly trembled from the ticklish sensation. “At home or away?”

“It’s at Central.”

His fingers drifted through my hair as I pressed my lips to his happy trail. “That’s okay. I’ll sit with Esther.”

“You’ll come?”

“Only if you do.” I waggled my eyebrows, cringing when he flicked my nose. “Damn, I was just teasing. But yes, I’ll come.”

“Cool.” He squirmed when I lifted the hem of his shirt to continue my ministrations, snickering. “Stop, I’m ticklish.”

“And?”

Apparently, I had a death wish because I snaked my hands under his shirt and attacked his sides. He squealed like a kid, convulsing under me, and my tickling quickly turned into an all-out wrestling match. With a growl, he pounced on me, and we rolled around on his bed like little boys, tickling, hitting, and kicking at each other as we play-fought.

He was stronger, so I had to fight dirty. I yanked his leg hair, twisted his nipples, and even utilized my teeth. The bite I left on his bicep was the last straw, and he overpowered me, pinning me to the mattress. With his weight settled on my hips, he cinched my hands above my head as we laughed.

Tears stung my eyes, and my stomach ached. I swore Ben was having a giggle fit, like, straight-up giggling like a four-year-old. Our chests heaved from exertion, and when I went limp in surrender, he threw his fists in the air, pumping like he’d just won a boxing match.

“Ben is the winner!” he chanted his name like he was his own cheer-leading squad, the mantra broken by stray giggles. “Say I’m the winner.”

Grasping his hips to keep him balanced on my lap, I sat up with a naughty smile. “Well, I have my sexy boyfriend on my lap, so who’s the real winner here?”

He glared through his blush. “I’m the winner. Say it.”

“Never!”

“I could make you say it,” he threatened, and I yelped as he flipped me over and captured my wrists, pinning them to my lower back.

My amusement fled, and I froze, a wounded noise scraping my throat as the faucet dripped. Ben’s fingers around my wrists twitched, then he let me go, rushing to help me sit up.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” He cupped my face, worried gaze raking over me. “I’m so stupid.”

“I’m good,” I croaked, attempting to laugh it off as my heart galloped a mile a minute. “Just took me off guard. Seriously, I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he pulled me into a hug and kissed my neck. “I’m sorry. Sometimes, I just don’t think.”

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