Monday morning hit like a slap.
I walked into campus buzzing, every nerve on fire. I'd spent the weekend replaying every second of Friday night-her tears, her screams, the way she'd whispered my name when she finally broke. I'd left her apartment Sunday morning only because she had a painting deadline, but not before fucking her slow and deep against the shower wall, her legs wrapped around me, quiet whimpers echoing off the tiles.
I was hers. Completely. And I thought she knew it.
Then I saw her.
Art History lecture hall. Same corner seat. Short pixie-cut black hair tucked behind one ear, silver lip ring catching the light. She wore a black hoodie pulled low, sleeves covering her hands, but I could still see the faint bruises on her throat where I'd marked her.
My heart slammed.
I grinned like an idiot and headed straight for her.
She didn't look up.
I dropped into the seat beside her-the one no one ever took.
"Hey," I said low, leaning in. "Missed you."
Nothing.
She kept sketching in her notebook, charcoal smudging her fingers.
I tried again. "Raven."
Her pen didn't even pause.
Confusion twisted in my gut.
I reached under the desk, brushed my fingers against her thigh.
She flinched. Pulled away. Shifted her chair an inch farther.
What the fuck?
Class started. I barely heard a word.
Every time I glanced at her, she was staring straight ahead or down at her page. Not once did those storm-gray eyes meet mine.
By the end of lecture, panic was creeping in.
I waited for her in the hallway.
She walked past me like I was a stranger.
I followed. "Raven-wait."
She sped up.
I caught her wrist outside the building.
She stopped. Finally looked at me.
Cold.
Distant.
"Let go," she said quietly.
"What's going on?" My voice came out rougher than I meant. "Friday night-Saturday-Sunday morning-you were-"
"Stop." She pulled her wrist free. Glanced around. No one close, but her voice dropped anyway. "Not here."
"Then where?"
She walked away.
I spent the rest of the morning trying to get near her.
Every time, she vanished.
Library? She packed up and left the second I appeared.
Quad? She changed direction.
Between classes? She took a different hallway.
By lunch I was losing it.
People were noticing.
Lexi's voice carried down the hall: "Look at Voss-chasing the freak like a lost puppy. Guess he really did catch something from her."
Laughter.
Someone else: "Golden boy's gone full psycho. Sad."
Mia walked past me with her friends, loud enough for everyone to hear: "Told you he'd regret it. Now he's obsessed with garbage."
I ignored them.
The rest of the day was torture.
She avoided me like I carried plague.
Every hallway, every class, every glance I tried to steal-she was gone. Slipped away like smoke. The shy girl who'd whispered "including me" now built walls higher than ever.
By late afternoon I'd had enough.
I found her on the rooftop-the old art building's hidden spot, wind whipping cold, city skyline gray in the distance. She leaned against the ledge, sketching in her black book, hoodie up, short pixie hair ruffling.
She didn't hear me approach.
I stopped behind her.
"Raven."
She stiffened. Closed the book slowly.
"I'm studying," she said without turning. Voice soft. Distant.
"Bullshit."
I stepped closer.
She turned then, back hitting the brick wall as she retreated. Gray eyes wary.
I didn't stop until I was in her space.
One hand slammed against the wall beside her head, caging her in.
She couldn't move.
"Talk to me," I said low. "What the hell is going on?"
She didn't look up. "You shouldn't be here."
"Bullshit. I'm exactly where I want to be."
Now she met my eyes.
Cold. Guarded. The shy girl with steel walls back up higher than ever.
"Elliot," she said quietly, "you shouldn't get close to me in public."
I stared. "What?"
"It'll damage your reputation." Her voice was flat, but I heard the tremor underneath. "You're the golden boy. Everyone wants you. Likes you. Respects you. If you keep… this-whatever this is-public, they'll turn on you. You'll become the joke. The guy who fucked the freak and caught feelings."
"I don't give a shit what they think."
"You should." She looked down again. "I've been the freak since freshman year. I'm used to it. You're not. You have friends. A life. I won't let you throw it away for-"
"For you?" I cut in. "Raven, I already did. The second I stood up in class and claimed you, I chose. I don't want that life back. I want you."
She shook her head. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
"I'm trying to protect you," she whispered.
"I don't need protecting from them. I need you to stop protecting me from you."
She looked up then. Eyes glassy.
Then She looked away. "They'll destroy you. Like they've always tried to destroy me."
I leaned in closer, nose brushing hers.
"Let them try," I said, voice rough. "You're mine to destroy."
Her breath hitched.
I didn't wait.
I kissed her.
Hard.
Deep.
Possessive.
My mouth claimed hers, tongue sliding in, tasting the faint clove from her morning cigarette. She resisted for half a second-hands on my chest, pushing weakly-then melted. A soft whimper escaped her, fingers curling into my shirt instead.
I pressed her harder against the wall, body flush to hers, letting her feel how hard I already was.
She broke the kiss, gasping.
"Not here," she whispered, eyes darting to the door. "Your fan club might follow you up."
I didn't care.
I ignored her.
Moved to her neck.
Licked a slow line from her jaw to her collarbone, tasting salt and her. Then sucked-hard-right over the pulse point that jumped under my tongue.
She moaned, quiet, shy, head falling back against the brick.
My free hand slid under her hoodie, up her stomach, cupping one full, heavy breast through the lace bra. Squeezed. Thumb brushing the nipple until it hardened under my touch.
"Elliot-" Breathless protest.
I squeezed harder, rolling the nipple between fingers, then switched to the other breast-bigger, softer, perfect in my palm.
Her hips rolled against me involuntarily.
"Mine," I growled against her throat, sucking another mark that would bloom dark tomorrow. "In public. In private. On this fucking rooftop if I want."
She whimpered again, fingers tightening in my shirt.
The wind whipped around us.
Below, campus buzzed-people laughing, doors slamming, life going on.
Up here, it was just us.
Her walls cracking.
My obsession burning brighter.
And I wasn't stopping until she understood:
She could hide all she wanted.
I'd find her every time.
And claim her all over again.