Page 38 of Drawn Together

“You know perfectly well the effect you have on men. I’m not made of stone, and you’re too attractive for your own good. I let you seduce me. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry. But I’m not going to put my job on the line for you.”

Wow. That hurt.

“So it’s my fault that you did what you did because I seduced you with my body that’s ‘too attractive for my own good’?”

Sebastian seemed unfazed by my sarcastic tone.

“You know what? For a second I thought maybe you’d be able to see beyond my looks, which apparently drive all the guys sooo crazy, according to you. For a second I hoped I might hear something out of your mouth that made sense, instead of that bullshit you just spouted. But I guess guys are all the same—you only think with your dick.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m in love with you like in one of those books you read? Don’t be such a little girl.”

I stood up, unable to believe what he’d just said. How the hell did he know what fucking books I read, and what did thathave to do with anything? Also, had he just called me a little girl?

“I’d throw this mug at your head right now, milk and honey included. But since I don’t want to give you any more reasons to call me a ‘little girl,’ I’ll just tell you that you’re an emotionless asshole, and that even if what happened last night was amazing, I have a long list of guys I can spend my free time with, guys who won’t run away scared like you did.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I picked up my bag and my keys, then walked to the door. Sebastian, as always, followed me, but I chose to pay him no mind.

On the way to campus, I rode in the back seat because I didn’t want to let a rogue tear betray how much his words had affected me. I felt humiliated, that was the word. He had made me feel like a fucking object, but the worst part was verifying that, just like every other guy, Sebastian saw nothing in me beyond my physical appearance.

I went through the next two days without saying a single word to him. I didn’t even want to see him. I was hurt by what he’d said to me, but I still felt the same intense emotions whenever he got too close, or whenever I simply laid eyes on him, which happened every time I left my fucking room.

Wednesday morning, however, I finally had to speak to him. I’d had a terrible night, I felt sick and miserable, and I was freezing cold. When I didn’t come out of my room to have breakfast and go to class, he came to check on me. I ignored his knocks at my door, turning my face away and covering my head with the down comforter.

“Marfil?”

Yeah, that’s my name, asshole.

“Are you going to class?”

“No,” I tried to shout, but it came out as a hoarse groan.

I suppose he heard me because he didn’t bother me again until after seven o’clock that evening, when he knocked again. Receiving no response, he barged into my room without waiting for permission.

“I didn’t say you could come in. Get out,” I protested.

“You’ve been in here almost twenty-four hours. You haven’t even eaten. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I grunted, burrowing under the covers.

I could tell he was moving closer because I heard the sound of his shoes against my wooden floor. He gently pulled back the comforter, and I let out a whimper of pain.

He brushed my arm. “You’re burning up.”

I didn’t want to move. All I wanted was for him to leave me alone. I had a cold, so what? It was no big deal; I wasn’t going to die. And anyway, who was he to act all worried about me now?

“Sit up,” he practically ordered me.

“Go away, Sebastian. No one asked you to take care of me.”

He ignored me again, taking advantage of the fact that I was lying on my stomach and pulling up the back of my shirt.

“Shit, Marfil, it’s infected.”

“What is?” I grumbled weakly.

“Your tattoo, dammit.”

“What are you talking about?” I questioned angrily, pushing him away with the little force I could muster. “I cleaned it three times a day like they told me to.”