Ten

Ten

Trisha POV

Mrs. Tuaoné was surprisingly welcoming as I strode into her AP History classroom ten minutes before the lunch bell would signal the end of the period. She even gave me a head start on the day’s bell work and reading assignment. With a great sigh, I began setting to work. By the time the bell rang and students began trickling in, I was already halfway through the textbook chapter.

The reading wasn’t difficult, but my focus was shattered. The day’s events kept replaying in my mind, a chaotic loop. I was nervous, but a treacherous, exhilarating part of me wanted to see Gavin again. He made me feel… strange, but happy at the same time. A dizzying combination I’d never experienced. He had literally only just met me hours ago, but he already elicited such a reaction from me that I seemed unable to control it. I hated not being in control of my own body.

I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and squirmed in my chair. The pad I’d put on after P.E. was already saturated, a humiliating testament to the effect he had on me. My clit was a hard, throbbing pearl, a knot of pure need that pulsed with every beat of my heart, a constant, maddening reminder of the electricity he’d sent through me.

Just then, someone took the normally empty seat beside me, and that intoxicating scent of earth and spice hit my lungs like a drug. *No. He shared history with me too!?* I was beginning to wonder if Daisy had unintentionally made her brother my personal stalker.

“Why do you wear a frown on that beautiful face? Did I do something to upset you?” His voice was a low murmur, a casual compliment that still made my cheeks flame.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, reluctantly setting my textbook aside. There was no way I could focus now. Did he have to sit next to me? Surely my double desk wasn’t the only available one? I turned my gaze to glare at him. I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly so irate. He’d been nothing but a gentleman… hadn’t he? But then Erik’s words echoed in my mind: *“I think Gavin likes you.”* Could that really be true? If it was, did he like me for my body or for my personality?

Gavin stared at me, and I wondered what he was thinking. I tried to read his expression, but it was hard to decipher. Amusement? Desire? Something else… more… sinister? Before I could say more, he slid my bag onto my desk, my art portfolio, binder, and kit nestled inside. “I gathered your stuff for you. And wrote down the day’s assignment,” he told me, slipping an additional paper on top.

I couldn’t help the small smile that formed on my lips. It wasn’t so much his actions, but his handwriting—it looked like medieval calligraphy, elegant and strong. It was unusual for guys to have more than chicken scratch at this age. I wanted to say something, but he suddenly shifted, pressing against me on the bench. Unbearably close.

His entire thigh and leg were flush against my own, our sides basically glued together. Everywhere he touched, clothes or not, erupted in pleasure shocks and tingles. My core responded instantly, a fresh, hot flood slicking my folds, a betrayal so swift and intense I swore under my breath. The glare returned to my face. My eyes rose to Gavin’s, whose eyes smiled at me with infuriating innocence.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I managed, trying not to gasp at his touch. I would’ve scooted away, but I was on the very edge of the bench. Why did this class have to have benches and dual desks only!?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He replied, and anger warmed my bosom. I felt it bubbling in the pit of my stomach and rising into my chest. Now he was just playing coy. I wanted to shove him off the bench, slap him even, but the same horrifying feeling from before hit me.

Only this time, it was my entire body, and it was overwhelming. Everything became heavy, as if infused with lead, and refused to obey my commands to physically harm the boy sitting next to me. It was a sickening, internal paralysis. My mind screamed at my arm to shove him, to strike him, but the signals were cut off at the shoulder, my muscles turning to dead weight. Sweat beaded on my brow from the sheer effort of trying to wage war against my own treacherous limbs. I couldn't even register Mrs. Tuaoné’s words as class began.

Finally, I let out a silent huff and gave up. The thought of violence vanished, and just like that, the leaden feeling was gone. I was free to move, but I was also free to endure the strange, maddening shocks and tingles. I bit my lip and turned my attention to the teacher. Out of the corner of my eye, Gavin had an amused smirk, as if he had won some bet.

The entire class was a sweet, exquisite torture. His presence was a constant, throbbing distraction. The heat from his body seeped into my side, a relentless warmth that seemed to travel directly to my core. Each time he shifted, the rough seam of my jeans would catch on my oversensitive clit, sending a sharp jolt through me that made me bite back a gasp. It was a constant, maddening rhythm of friction. I could feel my inner walls clenching rhythmically, an empty, aching pulse that begged to be filled. My nipples were pebbled, scraping against the lace of my bra, and all I could think about was his hand on me, his mouth on me, anything to soothe the unbearable ache he had created.

I couldn’t even finish the assignment and instead resolved to turn it in late, even though I didn’t have history again until Wednesday. I found myself watching the clock, waiting for the magical numbers that signified 2:15pm had arrived. Gavin and I didn’t talk more after that.

Though he seemed rather pleased with my predicament and seemed to stare. I wanted so bad to sock him again in the face, but it was like my body wouldn’t let me. Any time I even thought of harming him, my limbs took on that lead ball and chain feeling until the thoughts changed.

Is this what drove people with crushes insane? That had to be what this was. But why Gavin? I hadn’t even known him a full 24 hours!

My eyes flicked to the clock again. 2:00pm. 15 more minutes… just 15. But just then, I stiffened. I felt something brush over my leg. Was that… fingers? I looked down to see Gavin’s hand resting limply on his thigh. Oh, he better not be trying anything!

Gavin seemed to notice I stiffened and whispered huskily in my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine, “Is everything ok, Princess?”

I shut my eyes as his voice did not help the sensations, only amplifying them. I couldn’t respond to him, and he chuckled again, a low, deep sound that vibrated through me.

Now I know he brushed his pinky along my thigh—because he did it again. It wasn’t just a touch; it was a line of liquid fire, searing through the denim of my jeans straight to my clit. My body jolted as if I’d been shocked, and a fresh gush of wetness soaked my pad.

My breath hitched, and for a horrifying second, all I could think about was his finger, and how it would feel to have it stroking me there, without the denim in the way. An unwanted image flashed in my mind: his hand between my legs, his long, strong fingers sliding into my slick heat, pumping in and out of me right here in this classroom. The thought was so depraved, so shocking, that a whimper almost escaped my lips.

The next few minutes before 2:15 felt like hours, and the moment the bell rang, I quickly gathered my things and booked it out of class. Only I knew his gaze followed me. I could feel it on the back of my head and neck, a physical weight. Getting home would be my saving grace. I hurried to the buses, grateful that by the time they left the school, Gavin was nowhere in sight.