Page 93 of Obey

“Oh yeah.” Jace rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t stand Nate paying attention to anyone else. Fed him bullshit about embarrassing himself—said if his father found out Nate was hooking up with some loudmouth bisexual disaster, it’d ruin everything.” His smile fades slightly. “Even threatened to tell him.”

“That’s awful.”

“True.” Jace shrugs. “Problem was… he couldn’t stay away from me. He tried. He’d avoided me for days, then suddenly showed up wherever I was on campus. He even tried to use the project as a reason to come by my dorm late at night, but I think he was checking to make sure I hadn’t been seeing anyone else.”

“That sounds like Nate. So what broke him?”

“Tristan Hawthorne,” Jace says, and every trace of amusement leaves his voice.

“Rich, cocky, convinced everybody wanted him. Nate had gone back to avoiding me, and I wanted to make him jealous. I thought I was being clever, but I should have known.”

His fingers slow against my hip as the memory creeps in.

“Tristan kept buying me drinks, touching my waist, leaning in too close. At first, I let it happen because that was the whole point. I wanted Nate to see. But it stopped being fun. Fast.” His expression hardens. “When I tried to back off, he got pushy. Started acting as if I’d already promised him something just because I’d spent the night flirting.”

I watch his face instead of listening to the words, noticing how his humor disappears, one piece at a time.

“He asked me to step somewhere quieter so he could apologize. I was slightly tipsy, and against my better judgment, I went with him. We ended up in a stairwell near the back of the building.”

Jace looks away for a second.

“That’s when he blocked the exit.” My hand stills against his chest. “He grabbed my jaw and kept telling me I needed to stop acting scared after spending all night provoking him. Said that if I had no plans to follow through, I shouldn't have accepted the drinks.”

Disgust crawls up my throat. “Please tell me Nate found you.”

Jace goes quiet for a second after that.

Not uncomfortable.

Just distant enough that I can tell he’s seeing it all over again.

“I don’t even know how he knew where I was. One second this asshole’s in my face, and the next…” His eyes sharpen. “Nate’s there. He didn’t explode immediately. That’s what was scary about him even then. He got very calm.”

My thumb strokes once over his wrist, slow and absentminded.

“He told the guy to move away from me. And when Tristan laughed? That’s when Nate lost patience. He slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack the drywall.”

“And the guy fought back?”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes flick over my face. “Which made it worse for him. Nate let him get one good swing and then beat the absolute shit out of him.”

“What happened after?” I ask quietly.

“Nate checked on me first.” Jace’s voice softens instantly. “That’s what fucked me up. He was furious, completely furious, but the first thing he asked was whether that guy touched me anywhere I didn’t want.”

“Kept asking permission to touch me after that,” Jace says softly. “‘Can I see your wrist?’ ‘Can I touch your face?’ Like he needed to hear me say yes.”

And just like that, it clicks into place.

The rules. The constant checking in. Nate’s careful questions, Elias’s watchful stillness, even Jace’s teasing push for every want to be spoken aloud.

Their rules aren't just about dominance and submission. They're a language they learned for each other.

“He dragged me back to his dorm after,” Jace murmurs, “Wouldn’t let go of my hand the entire walk. And once the adrenaline wore off?” His smile turns crooked. “Nate lectured me for being so reckless and putting myself in danger before finally admitting he wanted me. Then he kissed me so hard I forgot my own name.”

Jace tips his head, curls falling into his eyes. “You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”

I swallow hard. “…Maybe.”