Page 32 of The Prom

“And I’m the chosen one, I’m guessing.”

I state the obvious fact and he nods. “Yes.”

“But I’m not controlled by him. To be honest–” My words falter as I face the fact I’ve kept to myself until now.

“If anything, I want out. He, well–”

I stop, heaving in a deep breath as I whisper, “I’m a little scared to be alone with him.”

“Why?”

His voice is dripping in anger as I admit, “The night Willow Tree House was flooded, Jesse was, well, pushing me into something I wasn’t ready for.”

He is silent, and my voice quivers. “I’m not saying he was forcing me, but well, I changed my mind.”

“And did he?” His voice is tight, angry even, and I whisper, “No. The sprinklers calmed the situation.”

“Thank fuck.” He heaves a sigh of relief and then surprises me by chuckling softly. “Apparently it worked in the nick of time.”

“What did?”

He appears almost guilty as he grins. “I couldn’t be certain, but saw him enter Willow Tree House, and I knew you were vulnerable because of your ankle. It would have been the perfect time for him to make his move because you were unable to fight back and when?—”

He stops, and a chill hangs in the air as he whispers, “When I heard what was happening, I had only one course of action without blowing my cover and I activated the sprinklers.”

“Wait, what?” I stare at him in shock. “When youheardwhat was happening!”

“Yes.”

I can’t even describe the betrayal I’m experiencing right now as I stare at the stranger beside me, who now sparks fear in my heart.

“You’ve said enough. I don’t want you to say anymore and for your information, I’m done with this and I’m done with you.”

I make to leave and as the door struggles to open, realization dawns. He’s locked me in and for the first time, I face the fact the only danger I’m in is from him.

SIXTEEN

DRAKE

Fuck. This isn’t going to plan, and now I’ve terrified the shit out of her.

“Listen to me, Imogen.”

She edges away from me and I detect the tremor in her voice as she gasps, “Please, Drake, open the door. I want to leave.”

“I can’t until you hear me out.”

I attempt to reassure her, but she shrinks away from me as I sigh heavily, my hand dropping to my side.

“I’m not the bad guy here, Imogen. I was sent to protect you and I’ve fucked that up big time.”

“I don’t understand.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m not a teacher, Imogen. I’m a–”

I almost can’t form the word, knowing this will blow her world apart.

“You’re a what?”

---