I stand, and Pixel follows. “Karl?” I ask. He doesn’t turn to look at me.
Pixel begins to growl from behind me, then she rounds me in a protective stance between me and the woman. She barks once at the stranger.
“Pix, stop!” Karl growls. Her ears pin back for a moment, then she lets out one more bark. I bend to pet her, which seems to calm her.
“Karl?” I’m hoping for an explanation.
He still doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he walks to the woman. “Scarlett,” he says like he knows her. The woman smiles at him and takes his outstretched hand.
“Karl?” I ask again. He needs to tell me what’s going on. “Who is this?” But he won’t look at me.
Instead, he walks to his room, leading Scarlett by the hand. I wait for the door to slam shut or click as he closes it, but it never does.
I’m frozen where I stand. What the fuck just happened? We agreed we wouldn’t be seen with anyone else while we pretended to date. But I suppose if he hired a sex worker, no one would see them out together.
My chin trembles, and I can’t explain this cold and heavy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Karl and I are just friends—not even that. I’m his employee and his student. God, I’m so stupid. This shouldn’t feel like this. We’re not together, and were not a couple, so I shouldn’t care. Right? Do I have feelings for him? I shake my head. I can’t. This is temporary. I’m leaving soon. I refuse to fall in love with Karl Sommer.
For long minutes, I stare down the dark hallway until low moans float into the hallway. Scarlett moans. Moans, the direct result of Karl’s touch. Is he fucking her? Of course he’s fucking her. What a stupid question.
A lone tear rolls down my cheek, and I angrily wipe it away. He won’t fuck me, but he’ll hire an escort when I’m right here? For only one second, I let myself feel dejected. But that’s not it. I know he wants me. He just doesn’t want to be my first. If he’d only give me a straight answer as to why. Is he afraid I’ll get clingy or fall in love with him if we take that step?
Would I? If I didn’t have some sort of feelings for him, it wouldn’t hurt to hear him fuck someone else, would it?
I head to my room, and their voices increase in volume as I pass his room and go in mine. I don’t close my door. Maybe it’s self-punishment, or maybe I want to hear them, but I sit on the edge of my bed, listening closely.
The longer I listen, the more my blood boils as I seethe on my bed. Eventually, the anger gives way to surrender. Each of my muscles unclenches, and resigned, I fall to my bed. I grab a pillow to place over my head, pressing it tightly to my ears as I curl into myself.
Something unrecognizable sours my stomach so much that it’s hard to breathe. Why am I feeling like this? I don’t even feel the tears until they cool on my face. I bring shaky fingers to my cheeks to confirm the wetness there, and yep, there they are. But why?
Why does it hurt so much to hear him with someone else?
He is doing nothing wrong. Our agreement only stated we couldn’t be seen in public with anyone. We never said anything about what happens in private.
The hurt is still there though. I’m not betrayed, but I feel it.
What did he just do to us?
* * *
I startle awakewhen my bedroom door flings open. A murderous Karl grabs the door jamb tightly with one hand, while the other grips the doorknob.
I sit up and realize I slept in my bra and panties. Instinct has me grabbing for the bedsheets to cover myself, but the way he looks at me forces me to freeze. His eyes are dark, roaming, roaming all over my body.
His jaw is set as he stares at me, so I don’t cover myself. I let him stare.
“Be ready in an hour. I’m going for my run. And stay the fuck out of my room.”
I blink after him as he leaves.
Well, he’s not kicking me out or ending our arrangement, at least. That’s something.
I sit at the kitchen island, drinking my coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened last night when Karl comes into the kitchen after his shower.
He grabs a cup of coffee and sips it in front of me, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me. He’s been slamming doors, drawers, and snapping at Pixel all morning. The poor girl has been seeking refuge behind my legs since he got back from his run, and that’s so unlike her. The strip of bacon I gave her turned her day around, though.
The more I watch him and how riled up he is, the more I’m convinced Karl regrets what happened last night.
Shouldn’t someone who had sex all night be more relaxed in the morning? That’s what I’d always assumed. Unless they faked it. For some reason, the very thought makes me smile, so I don’t cower under his glare.