Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

“Hey,” I replied right back, not knowing what else I could possibly greet him with.

Uncomfortable didn’t come close, not to how I was feeling. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole and take me away from this whole sorry spectacle and this whole sorry day.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and I wanted to say no. Wanted to say I had nothing to talk about. Wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing to bring me into contact with him this side of eternity. But I couldn’t.

His eyes were too open. Honest, in the strangest way. Needy for company in a way I recognised from my own long nights alone.

Needy for my company.

I held off speaking, trying my best to let his request for communication sink right in. Eventually my mouth moved on its own.

“I guess,” I found myself saying. “But it’ll have to be quick. I have lectures.”

I could have jumped a mile when he reached for my hand and took it firmly in his. I could have fainted when he led me through the gossiping bystanders without even a scrap of regret or self-consciousness.

He was strong. Unfazed by all the shitty looks the people shot me on our way past. Seemingly unbothered by associating himself with me around a heated-gossip campus chanting my name.

I had to remind myself with careful recall how he bailed and ran like a scared little kid from the beach that night, not giving a shit for me, or his friends, or anything more than getting away from the man who’d dragged them off me and punished them for their efforts.

He led me far from the library block, past Carolyn’s favourite donut spot and out to the playing fields beyond. The people eased away here, just a few straggling track runners making their way to the changing rooms after practice.

Jake pulled me off to the side, behind a big oak, blocking the both of us from passers-by. It was when he let me go that I felt my knees wobbling.

I hated this. Hated feeling so weak and vulnerable. So alone and pathetic and desperate for something solid.

The oak would have to do. I pressed my back to the trunk and splayed my fingers against the bark, hoping that on some level in the universe its tree energy would zip through my palms and give me strength.

It didn’t.

“I heard some things,” the guy started, and I closed my eyes.

“I’m not going to say anything about you,” I told him. “No matter what the rumours say, I won’t be telling them about the beach that night. Not about you, or your friends, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said, and I opened my eyes right on his.

It sizzled.

Not like the gaze of Mr Handsome while his sadistic fingers stretched me wide.

This was different.

Kind.

It made me feel weirdly small.

“I heard some things that worried me about you,” Jake continued. “I heard that you were out for money that night on the beach. That you were forced into it.”

“I wasn’t forced into anything,” I told him. “Forget about it.”

“But you were out for money, right?” he asked. “I heard you got paid in cash. Loads of it. I heard you’re likely down to earn a load more on some sixty-day shit fest where you’ll get fucked up like Rebecca Lane for whoever’s paying.”

I had nothing to say, so I said nothing.

“Paige, right? That’s your name? I’m Jake.”

“I know,” I told him. “They called you that, the other guys.”

“That wasn’t anything like me the other night,” he said. “Chris and Ryan are assholes. I got caught up in their bullshit, I should’ve known better.” He sighed, and I recognised the self-hatred on his face. “Should’ve done more. Got you out of that place. I was such a fucking dick.”

“And if I didn’t want taking out of that place?” I prompted. “If I was there of my own free will, doing what I wanted to be doing?”

“I don’t believe that’s the case,” he said. “Regardless of if you got into the dick or not, in the moment.”

He was tall, Jake. Imposing in a lean but muscular way.

Under normal circumstances he’d have made me fluttery. Maybe even a little giggly at the thought of hanging off such a hot guy’s arm around campus.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have my heart beating harder for some sick fuck guy in the shadows who wanted to hurt my pussy for money.

“I’m ok,” I lied. “It was one night. Nothing terrible happened. We all walked away just fine, no harm done.”

“It’s not that one night I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s what happens next.”

I shrugged my best shrug. “Rumours are rumours. They’ll die down.”

“The other guys are pricks.” His eyes burned mine. “They don’t give a shit what happened that night as long as their name isn’t mud around campus.”