Chapter 5: I’m not like the other guys

The final bell’s echo still vibrated through the halls as I shuffled beside Justine towards our lockers. Justine glanced at me, her green eyes narrowing with concern under the fiery fringe of red hair.

“Brooke texted me,” she said, her voice cutting through the crowd around us with ease. “She mentioned something about your head being fucked up. How are you feeling?”

I paused, my hand on the cold steel of my locker. “Honestly?” I shrugged and finally popped it open after pulling on it harder and harder. “I don’t remember a lot of things, but... I feel good. Confident, even.”

Justine’s expression shifted from worry to outright terror in an instant. It was as if she could see I was missing something.

‘Blaming my issues on memory loss is a Kino play.’ I arrogantly think to myself. ‘Oh shit, I can’t wait to see Erica too.’

My lips were smiling at the thought of finally landing a girlfriend…. Well hopefully.

“Hey, what’s that smile for? Did you hit your head and become Harley Quinn?” Her attempt at lightness didn’t mask the tremble in her laugh.

“Better,” I said, tossing my books into the dark recesses of my locker without much care. “I got a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Justine echoed, her voice a tremulous note that seemed to shudder through the cacophony of lockers slamming shut and students chattering about their freedom from school for the day. Her emerald eyes searched mine for some sort of jest, but all she found was the earnest glint of my newfound assurance.

“Jason, you once told me you wouldn’t date any of the trash in this high school,” she said, her words laced with a mixture of shock and something like horror. It was as if I’d announced I was going to kill to kill someone.

“That was the old me,” I admitted, still grinning as I slammed my locker shut, the sound echoing down the corridor like a gavel pronouncing judgment on my past self. “You know, before...”

Her face softened, pity blooming in her gaze like unwanted weeds in a well-tended garden. “Before the traumatic brain injury and assault,” she finished for me, her voice dropping to a whisper. There was a pause pregnant with concern, her protective nature wrestling with the humor she typically wore like armor.

“Relax, Justin.” I slipped up. “……Justine.”

Justine’s eyes flashed with pity. “Is that why?” Justine’s question hung between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I could see the cogs turning behind those expressive eyes, piecing together a narrative where my head injury had twisted my desires into something unrecognizable.

“Jus—” I began, but the moment fragmented as a shadow fell over us. Erica’s presence was like a change in barometric pressure, signaling an incoming storm.

“Hey, Jace!” Her voice cut through the tension, rough-edged but somehow sweet when aimed at me. With the grace of a prowling cat, Erica slid a possessive arm around my waist. Her blue eyes were fixed on me, but they held a challenge that seemed to dare anyone else, especially Justine, to keep questioning my choices.

“Let’s go,” she said, her tone brokering no argument, and I found myself swept up in Erica’s orbit before I even registered moving. My backpack dangled, forgotten in my hand, as she tugged me away, leaving Justine’s mouth agape. I waved to her my goodbye with the confidence of an Ox.

***

The classroom was a remnant of morning chaos, chairs askew, and the lingering scent of pencil shavings. Erica leaned back in her chair, legs propped up on the desk, her blonde hair a stark contrast against the leather jacket that screamed defiance. She eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, her piercing gaze holding mine captive.

‘I hope she fucks me up real bad.’

“Jason,” she started, her voice edged with a sigh that carried more weight than the textbooks scattered around us, “are you just trying to date me for my money?”

‘What the fuck?’

Her question launched me into a state of total bafflement, my brow furrowing as I processed her words. “I thought you were poor?” I blurted out, the thought escaping without a filter.

‘Fuck I meant to not say that out loud. Rude boy, Rude boy!’

Erica’s posture stiffened, her eyes narrowing to icy slits. “Poor?” she scoffed, tossing her hair with a snarl of offense. “My mom is the CFO of Knight Industries, the biggest tech firm in Salem. We’re anything but poor.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, her revelation bouncing off me like pebbles against armor. Money had never been a motivator for me. It was a foreign concept in my search for a Yandere. Her prestige meant less than nothing in my quest for my connection.

“Very cool, Erica.” I state unimpressed.

“Wait,” Erica’s confusion crept into her tone, softening the hard lines of her delinquent image, “if it’s not for my money, then why do you want to date me?”

There was an honesty to her question, a vulnerability that flickered briefly behind the brashness. I met her gaze, allowing sincerity to seep into my own eyes. “Because you saved my life,” I said, pausing to think. “Oh, and more importantly, I like the way you grabbed my throat earlier!” I exclaim.

Erica’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent gasp. She stared at me, her gaze a tumultuous mix of confusion and intrigue. Slowly, she lowered her legs from the desk, leaning forward to scrutinize me more closely.

“You... liked it when I grabbed your throat?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper that seemed to echo in the empty classroom. Her brow furrowed as if trying to solve a particularly perplexing riddle. “But why? I thought you’d be angry or scared. Most guys would be terrified of that shit.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound reverberating off the walls like a forbidden secret. Leaning back in my chair, I met her gaze with a smirk that danced on the edge of overconfidence.

“Well, Erica,” I drawled, relishing the way her name rolled off my tongue, “I’m not like the other guys. I guess you could say I’m a little bit of a masochist.”

The words hung in the air between us, a confession that seemed to suck the oxygen from the room. Erica’s eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions. Shock, disbelief, and a flicker of something darker, more primal.

“A masochist?” she repeated, the word sounding foreign on her lips. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as if to shield herself from the implications. “So, what, you get off on being pushed around? On feeling helpless?”

I shrugged, the motion casual despite the weight of the conversation. “In a way, yeah. I mean, no, don’t push me around. But there’s something thrilling about surrendering control, about being at the mercy of someone else’s whims. And when that someone is a beautiful, strong woman like you...” I trailed off, letting the unspoken implications hang in the air.

Erica scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. Her eyes darted away, focusing on a distant point beyond the classroom windows. “You’re crazy, you know that? Who in their right mind would want to feel weak and helpless?”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but my doctor did just tell me my brain scan has something ‘irregular’ going on in it.” I cross my arms to show her I mean business.

A terribly awkward silence fills the space between us. I feel like I’m blowing it.

“Okay, okay, okay, maybe I’m not in my right mind,” I spoke as my grin widened. “But I know what I want. And right now, what I want is you.”

Erica’s gaze snapped back to mine, her blue eyes blazing with a heat that could melt glaciers. She uncrossed her arms, leaning forward once more until our faces were mere inches apart. Her breath ghosted across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Jason,” she warned her voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through my very bones. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I admitted. The classroom seemed to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, locked in this moment of electric tension.

‘The way she grabbed me earlier made me feel like her possession. That’s a solid start.’

Erica sighed, the sound a mix of exasperation and something else, something darker and more primal. She leaned back slightly, her gaze roaming over my face as if trying to unravel the mysteries hidden beneath the surface.

“How serious is this head thing of yours?” she asked, her tone softening with a hint of genuine concern. “You seem... different than you used to be.”

I shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “It’s not that bad,” I assured her, “but I’ve been having some issues remembering cultural norms. Like I’m seeing the world through a different lens.”

Erica’s brow furrowed, her lips pursing in thought. I could see the gears turning behind those piercing blue eyes, trying to make sense of the enigma I had become.

Seizing the moment, I slid closer to her, our thighs brushing together in a tantalizing whisper of contact. Leaning in, I let my breath ghost across her ear.

“I really need someone to protect me,” I confessed honestly. I probably am ill-equipped for this new world. “Someone strong.”

‘It feels like I’m trying to bring her to the dark side.’

Erica’s breath hitched, her body going still as my words washed over her. I could feel the tension thrumming through her, a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment.

When she turned to face me, her eyes were dark with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine. Her gaze raked over me, a predator sizing up its prey.

In one fluid motion, she surged forward, her lips crashing against mine in a kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. Her hands found my wrists, pinning them to the desk with a strength that surprised me.

‘Jesus Christ, she’s really strong.’

I melted into the kiss, surrendering to the onslaught of sensations that crashed over me like a tidal wave. Erica’s lips were demanding, her tongue plundering my mouth with a ferocity that left me breathless and aching for more.

She pressed closer, her body molding against mine until there was no space left between us. I could feel every curve, every line of hers, a searing heat that branded itself into my skin.

Erica free’d a hand and it snaked its way down my pants, sliding over my belt loop and towards the bulge between my legs.

Her touch sent shocks of pleasure coursing through me, but it wasn’t enough. I moaned into the kiss as she wrapped her other hand around my wrists tightly, controlling me completely. It felt so good to be claimed by her in this way. With our lips locked together, I couldn’t help but grind against her hand unconsciously, begging for more contact.

Her fingers moved up and down along the length of my shaft, slowly at first, teasing it with gentle pressure before finding just the right spot and rubbing in circles as she nipped playfully at my bottom lip with her teeth. I groaned into the kiss. The taste of her cigarette-flavored kiss mixed with mine was intoxicating, an alluring blend of sweet and bitter that made me feel both in danger and exposed under her control.

She pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes with a predatory gleam that made my heart race faster. “You like that?” She purred, running a knuckle softly down my chest towards my stomach before stopping at the cotton barrier between us.

Erica’s breath was hot against my cheek, her grip on my wrists unyielding yet strangely comforting. Her blue eyes, usually so fierce and domineering, now shimmered with an unfamiliar hint of vulnerability as she traced the outline of my lips with her thumb, lightly caressing but with enough pressure to send shivers down my spine.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” she whispered, her voice a sultry mix of command and coaxing. The room seemed to close in around us, the walls bearing witness to this dance of dominance and surrender.

‘Let’s fucking go, target acquired.’ I sat stone-faced as a crowd of applause rose in my head.

But just as the heat between us built to an almost unbearable intensity, Erica paused. Her hands stilled, and she studied my face with an intensity that felt like she was searching for something hidden within me. Something perhaps even I wasn’t aware of. The shift was sudden. The predatory gleam in her gaze dimmed into something softer, more contemplative.

She let go of my wrists slowly, her touch lingering like a promise. Drawing back completely, she eyed me with a complexity that belied her usual tough exterior.

‘What the fuck? We were just about to get to the cool stuff!’

“Are you... are you just a slut for anyone who takes control?” she asked, a slight falter in her voice betraying her concern.

I laughed, a nervous, shaky sound, shocked by her directness yet oddly relieved by it. “No,” I confessed, swallowing hard as I met her gaze squarely. “Erica, what happened yesterday... It was actually my first time.”

The revelation seemed to hit her like a physical blow. Her posture shifted. The cigarette-flavored queen of defiance deflated slightly as she processed my words. “I didn’t know,” she murmured almost to herself as she reached out tentatively to stroke my hair in a gesture so tender it almost felt out of character. “I thought...”

Her voice trailed off as she looked away, discomfort etching her features for a fleeting moment before she faced me again with renewed resolve. “If you’re broken,” she said softly, determination seeping back into her tone, “then let me fix you.”

She grabbed my chin forcefully, her grip unwavering as she commanded me to meet her gaze. Her eyes burned with a fiery intensity, revealing the depth of her new found feelings for me. “I won’t just be a chapter in your life, Jason,” she said solemnly, her voice steady as if she was making a vow, “I will be the entire book.”

A shudder rips through my entire body as her words slice through me like a sharp knife. She was weaving an intricate tapestry of fear and fascination within me. Her gaze held me captive, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us, standing amidst invisible currents of fate and desire.

“Yeah, I really want that too,” I speak, lost in Erica’s eyes.

Erica blinked, breaking the spell as she looked around, suddenly aware of the empty chairs and the chalk dust settling on neglected desks. She stood swiftly, her movements graceful yet filled with a new kind of urgency. “Come on,” Erica said, her voice firm yet carrying a softness I hadn’t heard before. “I gotta walk you home.” Her insistence didn’t feel like a command this time. It felt like a plea veiled in her usual impolite demeanor.

I hesitated, feeling a sudden surge of independence. “I can manage, Erica. It’s not that far,” I protested.

Erica arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s what girlfriends do, Jay.” she retorted, extending her hand with an expectant look. “They take care of their subby little idiots.” There was a warmth there, beneath the playful insult, a warmth that beckoned me.

She grabbed my hand with a possessive grasp, and we walked to the exit. I finally remembered the burning question I had before.

“Hey, do you sell fentanyl?”

“Jason, What the fuck is wrong with you? No.” She looked offended.