Chapter 3 — "Don't You Ever Call Me That!"

Liam's POV

And to the shock that went down to my bone marrow, he brought out a sketchbook that I had been keeping to myself for a while. The same one I used to pour my fantasies into — the ones I hoped someday, somehow, I would get to make real. He raised it up and there it was… the last particular drawing I had done of two gay partners. Drawn straight from my imagination, from a place I had never shown anyone.

My chest caved in.

This was my private thing and not meant for anyone else's eyes.

I couldn't think straight and so I just moved. "Give that back!" Instantly, I rushed him without even processing it because that sketchbook was the one thing in this room, in this whole house, that was entirely mine. My mum didn't know it existed and nobody did. I had always kept it tucked under my pillow like it was something fragile that the wrong pair of eyes could permanently damage.

And now Ken had it in his hands, flipping through it with that same casual energy he brought to everything — like nothing in the world was serious enough to deserve actual respect.

He clocked how desperate I was immediately. So naturally, he raised the book above his head.

I hated that he was taller than me. I hated it specifically in this moment with everything in me. I jumped for it anyway… once, twice but it was obvious after the first attempt that this was not going to work out in my favor. He barely even had to stretch.

"Oh, well, well." He flipped to another page, eyes scanning it with this slow, entertained expression that made my skin crawl. "It looks like our valedictorian has got some kinks." He took a few steps back as he said it, putting more distance between the book and my reach.

I went after him anyway. "There is nothing dirty about it." I said it with my full chest because I meant it and I reached for the sketchbook one last time.

He pulled his hand back before I got anywhere close. Then in one quick move, he pushed me and I landed on the bed with my back flat against the mattress before I even registered what had happened. He climbed up fast, pinning both my hands down and making himself completely impossible to shift.

I struggled and genuinely tried but I wouldn't lie, he overpowered me without even breaking a sweat and that was probably the most annoying part of all of this.

He looked down at me, my sketchbook was still in hand with that expression that sat somewhere between amused and deliberately provocative. "Is this the real you?" He tilted his head. "Why don't we start with something fun — you know, like… art?" The smirk pulled wider. "What do you say, partner?"

I didn't stop struggling the whole time he was talking because I paid less attention to what he was saying.

"What do you say, partner?" He repeated it, slower this time like he enjoyed the sound of it.

"Don't you ever call me that." I shot back immediately.

The smirk turned devilish. It didn't leave his face even when I went further. "And get off me!"

"Why?" He glanced down at me, completely unbothered. "Besides, you look so good like this." Then he snorted like something about this whole situation was genuinely funny to him. "Hiding dirty drawings under your pillow." He shook his head slowly. "What — no partner, no boyfriend, no experience whatsoever? Just a blushing virgin."

Something snapped right in me. "That is none of your business." I said it louder than I probably should have, not really caring about my volume at that moment. "But in case you care so much to know… I have plenty of experience."

The words left my mouth and I already knew how they sounded. I could hear it myself, but there was no pulling them back now so I just held his gaze and stood by it.

"Oh really, partner." The sarcasm was dripping from every syllable.

"I am not your partner." I said it flat and firm. "That will be the last time I have to remind you that."

He shifted his weight slightly, that entertained look never once going off. "Oh well. You know, technically you kinda are. Since they assigned you to tutor me." He said it like it was the most straightforward logic in the world. "So let's get started right away."

I opened my mouth to respond and then stopped.

Because right in front of me, without any warning or explanation, he started loosening his belt.

I stared at him, not knowing what to think exactly.

‘What is he—’

"Come on, teach." He looked up at me with this completely straight face. "Get in position. What is first on the syllabus?"

For a second, just one second, I genuinely couldn't tell if he was serious or if this was another layer of his game. With Ken, those two things lived uncomfortably close together and it was impossible to know which one you were dealing with until it was already too late.

I pulled myself together. "You don't scare me." I held his eyes when I said it, keeping my voice even and keeping my face steady.

But deep down… and I mean deep, somewhere I was not going to examine out loud as I knew that wasn't entirely true. Because there was something about Ken that sat under my skin in a way I couldn't explain and wasn't ready to. It wasn't fear exactly, but it wasn't nothing either.

He licked his lips slowly and deliberately.

And I hated myself a little for noticing that he looked good doing it.

"Don't I?" He asked, holding my gaze.

I wasn't going to answer that. It felt like a trap either way and I had already walked into enough of his traps for one evening.

Then my mum's voice came through the door, warm and completely unsuspecting. "Sweetie! I have your favorite orange soda. Hope I am not interrupting anything?"

‘Oh shit.’

My stomach dropped to the floor.

In all of the chaos of Ken showing up in my room, the sketchbook, the bed — I didn't lock the door as I was still caught unaware with the presence of Ken at the moment I got in and now this. It hadn't even crossed my mind and now my mum was already on the other side of it and I had approximately zero seconds to fix the optics of whatever this looked like right now.

The both of us moved fast, but we were not fast enough.

She had already reached for the door and stepped inside before we were fully off the bed. I don't know exactly what she caught…I mean what specific frame of this she walked into but the gasp that left her lips said enough. It filled the room and sat there heavy while the three of us went completely still.

Ken was on his feet now, and quick enough to slide the sketchbook behind his back before she could see it. I stood up next to him, putting whatever normal distance I could manage between us, like rearranging the furniture after the fact was going to help anything.

My mum stood at the door and her eyes moved between the two of us. Not saying a word yet, which honestly, was worse than if she had just said something instantly.

I was expecting the worst. Felt completely cooked standing there because I could already imagine the meaning she had read into whatever glimpse she caught. The thoughts running behind her eyes were loud even in the silence and I had no script for this — none at all.