“I am a girl.” I grit my teeth. “And I stomped. I did not hit.”
“Either way, it was an assault, and on a teacher, no less.” I feel the rumbles of his chest as he speaks, making me realize how close I am to him, to his body.
It’s warm and hard and breathing. It feels exotic, like something I’ve never felt before, which is an absolute lie because I have felt a masculine body before—the night Caleb and I had sex. Why does this feel so different and new?
I should step back. I know it, but I can’t. My anger is slowly draining out of my body and something else is filling up the emptiness inside me. My unruly foot inches closer, blindly searching for his foot. Once found, I tap the toe of his boot. “You’re not my teacher, remember?”
Thomas looks down at our feet, connected on the ground, my pointed tip attached to his blunt one. It’s a childish gesture without any importance, but still, I love how our feet look on the snow-patched earth. We gaze up at the same time, and together, we swallow, part our lips, exhale foggy breaths.
Before I can analyze what’s happening, the screech of the door opening breaks the moment and I step back.
“Thomas. I had a feeling I’d find you here.” It’s a woman, short and sleek, with a blonde bob.
“Sarah. Want to join us?”
Her shrewd eyes flicker between Thomas and me, and I feel anxious, like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, something illicit.
“No thank you. I—”
“Are you sure? We were having an illuminating discussion about gender roles. Do girls really hit like girls or is it merely a stereotype created by modern literature?”
My breath hiccups as Thomas refers to my stomping so smoothly. I try to school my features, but I know I’m blushing. I hope the dim lighting conceals it.
“I’m sure it’s fascinating,” Sarah says in a suspicious tone. “But you’re needed inside.”
Thomas smiles but I can tell he isn’t amused. “And who’s doing the needing? You? I thought the day would never come.”
Sarah throws him a strained smile. Clearly, these two don’t like each other.
“I like your jokes, Thomas, but I don’t think Professor Masters will be amused to be kept waiting. He wants everyone to meet the stellar addition to our staff.”
“Well, I’ll be right in then.”
Sarah nods, ready to leave, but stops. She focuses on me and I shrink inside my big, giant coat. “Are you new? I’ve never seen you on the Labyrinth night before.”
“Um, yes. I am. I’m Layla Robinson.”
She nods. “I’m Sarah Turner. If you need any help with gender roles in literature, you should come find me. It’s one of my specialties.”
Again, her gaze switches to Thomas, and then it flicks back over to me. There isn’t anything in her eyes that I can decipher, but still, I feel there is something there. With a last glance at us, she leaves, and the breath I’ve been holding whooshes out. “Who’s she?”
Thomas shrugs, whipping out his phone from his pocket. “No one.” His fingers fly as he types something. Once done, he heads toward the street.
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
“Looks like it,” he replies without turning around.
“But shouldn’t you go in there?”
“I wish I could, but I don’t want to.”
He keeps walking and I jog after him. “Why not?” I’m pushing it but I don’t know why.
Halting in his tracks, he turns around. The night is dark and the lighting is atrocious so I can’t really study his expression, but I know he doesn’t like being questioned. “Because it’s almost midnight and if I stay any longer, I might turn into a toad, and I like this getup too much to risk that.”
He turns back around but pauses again. Giving me his profile, he says, “And I haven’t forgotten, Miss Robinson—don’t be in my class next time.”
Emma moves in the next day and it goes smoothly with Dylan and Matt and me helping her. Plenty of heated glances are exchanged between the two lovebirds, and I couldn’t be happier. Turns out, after I left last night, there was a hug with a kiss and an all-nighter where they talked and got their feelings out.
At lunchtime, we order pizza and discuss all things poetry. I ask about Sarah Turner, and Emma tells me she was gunning for Thomas’ job. Apparently it was all pretty much set until Jake Masters, dean of creative writing, brought Thomas in to attract more students to the program, hence Sarah’s hostility; not to mention, Jake and Thomas have known each other since their college days, and, naturally, Sarah doesn’t like that.
It’s a fun afternoon, except for one heated phone call from Emma’s mom. She goes into her room to talk so I can’t hear what they are arguing about. Dylan calms her down though and from there, things get light.
Dylan, Emma, and Matt accept me easily. Apart from a few awkward silences where Dylan and Emma make googly eyes at each other, it feels natural—so natural, in fact, that Matt kind of becomes my favorite person in the world because he loves Twizzlers. We share a pack between us and argue its nutritional values against crappy foods like apples or leafy vegetables. By the end of it all, I decide I really want these fragile bonds of friendships to hold. Loneliness doesn’t feel like an option anymore, not since I stumbled upon the Labyrinth.
________________
Once Dylan and Matt are gone, Emma suggests a walk and coffee. I never say no to either of those, so I pile on my winter clothes and we set out into the quiet Sunday afternoon.
The street is wet and flanked by melting banks of snow. It hasn’t snowed since the semester started so the air seems saturated, swollen with the nightmare of it. We pass by the neighboring buildings, which are smaller than the one we live in, a salon, and a deli before getting to Crème and Beans. The smell of coffee and warm chocolate hits us as we enter.
But it’s more than that. There’s a potency in the air, and I instantly know why. Thomas. He is at the counter, paying for his coffee. He is so tall that he has to lean down to speak to the barista. His fingers flick through the bills in his wallet as he counts them, and hands them over with a distracted smile.
Last night I became his puppet again and played with myself. This time I did it in darkness. It made the strings tighter, more urgent. It made me bolder, dirtier. Criminal, even. Unlike the last time, my fingers plunged in and dug deep, felt the flesh from inside out. It was warm and velvety and dripping and noisy. I heard the sounds my pussy makes when it’s greedy and horny. I never knew. I never knew that part of my body so intimately. It felt brilliant and shameful. I basked in my arousal until I was gasping for breath, gushing cum on my purple sheets. I was writhing on my bed with no control over my body whatsoever. It was scary and erotic as fuck.
“Hey, you coming?” Emma calls out, bringing me out of my lust-induced trance.