Page 62 of Crown of Thorns
That night in the Atrium changed everything. It’s been over two weeks, and Louis hasn’t left since. I still only reply with one-word texts, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lets himself in every night, moves through my dorm like it’s his. Like I’m his.
And I want it. I wanthim.It doesn’t matter anymore, because we have fought our way into a whole new spectrum. Right now, this? This is our own game, the rules thrown overboard.
I’m his professor. Eleven years his senior.
I don’t want to be attracted to him.
But every night, when he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against his chest, when he buries his nose in my nape and his legs around my waist, my entire body sags in relief. The tension fades. My thoughts make so much more sense.
Louis leaves domestic chaos like glitter. Coffee machines, candles, oranges. He’s taken over corners of my dorm I didn’t know I had. I came back from the gym the other day to find himmaking fresh sushi in a kitchen layout that didn’t exist when I moved in.
It makes my chest ache. Not just because it’s sweet, but because it’s dangerous.
Everywhere I turn, he’s there. In the smell of coffee. In the cold scent of lime on the knife handles. In the citrus candles by the windowsill. I don’t need to open the fridge to know what I’ll find. He’s curated my space like he’s setting up camp inside me. He visits the local market, makes me my favourite drinks, and watches my face for a reaction. He wants to get it right.
Louis’s presence lingers everywhere, like a shadow that follows me.
He walks with that born-Deveraux smugness, but underneath it, he’s always watching. Waiting. Wanting to be seen. He needs to be told he matters. That he’s more than the legend everyone already assumes he is.
Girls never left wreckage like this. Never made me crave their presence the way I crave Louis’s hand on my stomach at night. That quiet ownership even in sleep, it unravels me.
Dad’s gone. He can’t touch me now. Can’t humiliate me with a glance or crush me with a word. But the echoes still crawl under my skin, his voice, his silence, that look that said I’d never be enough. I carry it even now, like a scar I’ve trained myself not to touch. And somehow, Louis’s presence only makes that scar more visible, like he’s pressing his fingers right into the places I’ve taught myself to ignore.
Today, Saint-Laurent holds their infamousPrix d’Invention. The prestigious prize ranks one winner as the most talented student in Monterrey andgrants a fully paid scholarship to one student from the city of Saint-Laurent.
I’ve worked with Régis Deveraux for months. The poor kid landed in the world of the wealthy, constantly outshined—and bullied—by his golden boy stepbrother, Arthur. He’ll probably win. Arthur always does.
Your Little Devil: Thank you for breakfast, baby
My lips curl despite myself. He’s changed his name again. I picture Louis sprawled in my bed like he did last night. Bare, smug, sipping coffee and stealing the last of my blackberries. Maybe I have a domestic side after all.
Your Little Devil: What did I say about ignoring my texts?
Your Little Devil: Come on, baby. Say something sweet. Or nasty. Not too nasty though
He’s got me chuckling in my seat. Glaring outside, I try to compose my thoughts.
Your Little Devil: Did you know that you moan in your sleep?
Cute Grump: I did not
What? I frown at my own change of name.
Your Little Devil: Ha! Gotcha. You so were, baby, you were humping my poor dick.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. That can’t be right. I have no recollection of any dreams. He’s just messing around with me.
Cute Grump: Stop texting me
Louis: Admit it. You want it. You can’t live without it.
Cute Grump: Never.
I delete my last message, then throw the phone in my briefcase and force myself to focus on work. With all my heart, I hope Régis will win today’s prize. His presentation is fantastic. Daring, with heavy layered questions about our society.
If he won, it would be a win for both of us.
“There he is. Come, enjoy a drink with us,” Jean-Luc Deveraux holds up his glass. The ceremony has ended. I’m still gutted that Arthur officially won the prize instead of his younger stepbrother, though I better not share those thoughts with the family.
