Page 36 of Quiet Obsession
We should settle this Millie problem like adults. Knowing Noah, he’d step aside if I asked, but I’m too proud to ask, so we should set boundaries instead of letting this fester into a backstabbing, dick-measuring contest, but...
Fuck conversations.
My dick’s bigger.
Too bad that doesn’t mean shit and she’ll still choose him. As she should. He’s the better man.
12
Millie
I pad down the hallway, a stack of books under my arm, the other hand reaching for my room key, but I stop in my tracks three doors down.
A groan slips out of my lips, my agitation growing tenfold in the span of two seconds. God, not again. I’ve had a shitty day as it is, and now there’s an umbrella propped by mine and Abby’s door. I contemplate pressing my ear to the door to check if she’s really getting fucked for the fourth time this week or if she’s left the signal out by accident.
I decide against it when the first guy who could be inside the room—and Abby—pops into my mind.
Dash.
No way will I risk overhearing my friend fucking my roommate. I’d never be able to look him in the eye again. With another huff, I backpedal into the elevator. Library itis, I guess. I could knock on Noah’s door, but knocking on his door is exactly why I haven’t even started the report that’s due in three days. Instead of using his space to write, we end up playing chess for hours.
Besides, it’s the first fight night of the year, so Noah will be out, cheering on Creed.
The elevator dings on the ground floor.
A group of senior girls clusters in the entryway, eyes swinging my way, then nonchalantly turning away. I don’t know what their problem with me is, but they’ve collectively decided they don’t like me.
It might be envy. Most girls on campus have a crush on either my brother, Noah, Dash, or Creed, and at least one of them is usually by my side.
The news about Hyde Ward’s mutelittle sister traveled the campus at lightning speed. People stare, point fingers, whisper, and my anxiety’s spiraling out of control. It reminds me of when I returned to school afterthe incident. The whispers, mockery, and disdain. The injustice of seeing Evan every day after the humiliation he put me through.
The unwanted attention is fucking scary.
It wouldn’t take much more than basic online skills to uncover my past. A few clicks of the keyboard, a few deep searches, and anyone could find the videos.
They still surface sometimes.
Once something hits the net, it doesn’t disappear. It can’t be erased no matter how much money you throw at it. News outlets and social media sites were full of articlesand posts inventing hyperbolic details for views and clicks.
My peers, their parents, local news reporters, and wannabe influencers... everyone had something to say.
During the first few months, a team of lawyers, hackers, and whoever else my parents hired worked around the clock, taking down every picture and video, but the sheer workload was overwhelming. Thankfully, as time passed, people lost interest.
I kept quiet through the backlash. I still haven’t spoken out and don’t plan to. What’s the point? The case was dismissed.
Evan got away with it.
Not enough harm was sent my way, not enough evidence, despite the hours of videos he recorded and uploaded.
And so, anyone could find the recordings and watch Millie Ward look at Evan Hollister like he hung the fucking moon while he belittled every little thing about her behind her back.
Everyone could read the scathing comments... and everyone could see my nervous excitement, the giddiness of my crush, and how much I wanted to give him that night.
For a moment, I’m back in his bedroom, in his queen-sized bed, his deft fingers stripping me out of my cami. I remember his wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. I remember his big body pressing me into the mattress, the hard outline of his cock printing against my thigh.
I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.
“How long have you been dreaming about me, princess? How long have you wanted me to pop that cherry?”
