Chapter 53

    Chapter 53: lovesick idiot

GAVIN HAWKINS POV

    I stood frozen, watching as Lyric walked away. My fingers clenched around my exam paper, but it might as well have been nothing. She had barely looked at me—barely acknowledged me.

    But those marks on her face?

    The scratches on her arms?

    That wasn’t nothing.

    Before I could think twice, my feet moved on their own. I shoved my results into my bag and followed her out the door, weaving through students who had no idea that my heart was hammering like a drum in my chest.

    Lyric walked briskly down the hall, her bag slung over one shoulder, her posture tense. She knew I was behind her. I could tell by the way her fingers twitched, tightening around the strap of her bag.

    I didn’t care.

    I wasn’t letting this go.

    “Lyric.” My voice was quiet but firm as I caught up to her. She ignored me.

    “Lyric, stop.”

    Nothing.

    She was heading toward the main doors—probably planning to leave. But I wasn’t letting her run from me. Not this time.

    With a sigh, I reached out and gently grabbed her wrist. She froze.

    Her shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, I thought she might yank away and bolt.

    “Come with me,” I murmured.

    She turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the sharp glare in her eyes. Wearing a frown, she used her free hand to push off my other from clutching her wrist. Her face twisting with every effort, it made her look even cuter.

    Instead, I loosened my grip, sliding my fingers down to hers—softer this time. “Just… come with me. Please.”

    She hesitated.

    I knew she was deciding whether to argue. Whether to stand her ground or follow me.

    Then, with a heavy exhale, she let me lead her.

    I didn’t let go of her hand until we reached the nurse’s office.

    It was empty, save for the faint scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of a ceiling fan. The nurse must have stepped out, but that didn’t matter. I locked the door behind us.

    Lyric tensed immediately, her eyes flashing as she reached for her phone. She touched my shoulder and I felt a goosebumps all over that arm. I ignored the warning in her gaze and stepped closer, my fingers brushing her chin.

    One, two, three.

    She flinched.

    That was what made my stomach turn.

    Slowly, carefully, I tilted her face toward the light. Her skin was still warm from the touch of ice, but the bruises—deep and bluish, with scratches barely scabbing over—stood out against her pale complexion.

    I swallowed. My jaw ticking, “Who did this?”

    She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled away.

    “Lyric.”

    She shook her head, taking out her phone.

    “I fell.”

    I scoffed. “Bullshit.”

    Her jaw tightened. She turned, reaching for the door, but I stepped in front of it, blocking her way.

    She let out a frustrated breath and tried tp push me away with even more strength this time.

    “Not until you let me clean that up.”

    Her fingers hovered over the screen. She was debating.

    I could see it—the internal struggle written all over her face.

    Finally, she sighed and sat on the exam table, arms crossed, her posture screaming reluctance.

    I exhaled in relief and turned to rummage through the medical kit on the counter. Antiseptic wipes, ointment, bandages—I grabbed what I needed and turned back to her.

    “This might sting,” I warned as I opened a wipe.

    She didn’t flinch this time when I reached for her.

    The first touch was hesitant. Careful.

    I ran the wipe over the scratches on her arm, working in silence. The air between us was thick—charged with something I couldn’t name.

    I could feel her eyes on me, watching.

    I met her gaze.

    Big mistake.

    Her lips were parted slightly, her breath barely audible, her chest rising and falling in a slow, uneven rhythm. She looked like a wet dream waiting to happen.

    My fingers lingered on her wrist a second too long. I couldn't stop thinking about corrupting her innocent mouth, and watching her eyes roll up whenever I thrust into her. Or the soft whimpers that escaped her lips before she climaxed. The vivid image of how her legs shook when I ate her out with no pity replaying in my head.

    I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus.

    Bruises. Wounds. That’s why I was here. Not for this—whatever the hell this was.

    I worked quickly, applying ointment to her face next. Her skin was warm beneath my fingertips, her pulse fluttering at her throat. I felt her breath hitch when my knuckles brushed her jaw.

    Her eyes darkened.

    A heat coiled low in my stomach.I stepped closer, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and something uniquely her.I wanted to say something. Something that would break the silence. Something that would make her stay.

    But before I could, she pushed me away. Not hard—just enough to make me take a step back. I blinked, caught off guard. She grabbed her phone and typed quickly.

    “Thank you. But I meant what I said. Stay away from me.”

    She slipped off the table, grabbed her bag, and walked past me without another word.

    And just like that, she was gone.

    Again.

    I stood there, staring at the closed door, my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

    My heart pounded as I followed Lyric down the street, but before I could get close enough to call her name, someone stepped into my path.

    Wren.

    She stood with her arms crossed, her eyes burning with fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

    My clenched his jaw. I didn’t have time for this. "Move, Wren."

    "No." Wren’s voice was sharp, unwavering. "You don’t get to just chase after her like some lovesick idiot after what you did."

    My patience snapped. "What the hell is your problem with me? I already apologized!"

    Wren scoffed. "Oh, you mean for making her first time absolute garbage?"

    I froze. My chest tightened. "I—"

    "You left," she spat, her voice shaking. "Right after. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at her. You made her feel like some cheap hookup. Like she wasn’t even a person to you."

    My breath caught in his throat. I had not thought about it like that. Back then, I had been so consumed with my own guilt, my own frustration. I had just wanted to get out before he did something even worse.

    "I—" I swallowed, the words bitter in my mouth. "I didn’t mean to make her feel like that, Wren. Something urgent came up and I __ ''

    She laughed, but there was no humor in it. Her voice hard, "Yeah? Well, you did."

    Everything finally made sense to me. I had unknowingly treated her like trash after she gave me something so precious. I had to make things right.