sierra
Once I had come multiple times on Steven’s desk, I stumbled out into the hallway as all the other students left for the night and Steven cleaned up my mess in the class. I leaned against the wall with my eyes closed softly and breathed out.
“Sierra, right?” Michelle, Steven’s sister, said.
“Yes,” I said, gazing at her. “If you’re looking for Steven, he’s—”
“Cleaning up?” She giggled, then dropped her gaze to the necklace that Steven had gotten me at the mall on Friday night. “Oh, wow. This is beautiful.” She drew her fingers across it. “Did Steven buy that for you?”
I didn’t want her to think I was using him for his money because I wasn’t, and I had tried hard to get him not to buy me something so expensive. But I also didn’t want to lie to her because I didn’t want Steven finding out.
“I didn’t ask him to,” I whispered, cheeks warming.
“So, he’s collared you.”
My brow furrowed. “What’s that mean?”
She parted her full lips, then lifted her gaze behind me. “You should ask Steven.”
“Sierra,” Steven called from behind me, closing up one of the back rooms, “you ready?”
After Michelle threw me a smile, I said my goodbyes and followed Steven to the back exit near the parking garage. The drive back to his place was quiet, and I wasn’t sure when—or if I even should—bring it up to him. But I finally decided it was a conversation for another night when I slid into the bathtub with him.
Halfway into our bath, I shifted in the tub and crawled into Steven’s lap. I grabbed the shampoo and squirted a bunch into my palm so I could wash his hair. After wetting it, I drew my fingers through his locks.
“Sorry for kinda freaking out when you asked about my family earlier,” I whispered.
He placed his hands on my hips and squeezed, slowly opening his eyes. “It’s okay. I get it. Talking about family is hard. But you can always talk to me about it. I’m not going to judge you, Sierra.”
My lips curled into a frown, tears building in my eyes. “My family is dead.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I became paralyzed to the spot, my fingers stiff in his hair, my mouth half open, and my torso flexed in a weak attempt to stop myself from sobbing uncontrollably. I had tried so hard to get over the memory, but I hadn’t healed past it.
Not yet.
“A drunk driver hit their car in December of my senior year of high school, causing them to run off the road and into a freezing river. They were turning onto my street, bringing home Christmas gifts they had gotten for me.”
A tear rolled down my cheek. Maybe one day, I’d get through it. But not today. Not soon.
“God, Sierra,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry.”
“I watched from the house… It happened right in front of me,” I said, voice breaking. “Right in front of me, Steven.”
“Love,” Steven mumbled into the crook of my neck.
“It should’ve been me,” I cried. “I should’ve been in that car too.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” I sobbed, doubling over and grasping on to his shoulders. “I wonder every night why the world is so cruel. I loved them so much, Steven. So much, and I will never see them ever again.”
Steven held me tighter to his chest as I bawled my eyes out.
“I had gotten in a fight with my sister right before she left, and I told her that I hated her.” My body shook uncontrollably in the water, tears and snot running down my face and into my mouth. I cried out in pain at the memory. “I’m a terrible sister. A terrible sister.”
“You’re not a terrible sister,” he murmured.
“I am.”
He gently took my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him through my burning, stinging, tear-filled eyes. “From all those stories you shared with me at the store, you are not a terrible sister. You didn’t wish this on your family. You were frustrated, but you still loved her.”
My hiccups filled the large bathroom, and I tried to calm myself down by grasping tightly on to his shoulders and hoping that Larissa would think the same thing. I had never forgiven myself for what I’d said to her.
“Please,” he said, holding on to me tighter, “don’t for a second wish it were you.”
“It’s hard. So hard sometimes, Steven.”
* * *
Once I finished sobbing and finally dried off from the bath, I pulled on my clothes from today and headed toward my backpack that I’d placed on his king-sized bed. “I should probably get going. I have a long day tomorrow, and I know that you do too.”
He snapped his gaze up to mine. “Do you want to stay?”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to—”
“Let me clarify.” He placed his phone on the dresser. “You are staying.”
“Okay,” I whispered because I wasn’t going to argue.
Although I appreciated that Heather’s family was well off enough to pay for our housing, I hated having them pay for everything, so I had bought my own mattress, which felt more like a brick than comfy. Steven’s bed was so soft that I sank right into it.
I peeled off my more restrictive clothes and my necklace, setting it on the nightstand, and then I climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over my bare shoulders, waiting for him to join me and to cuddle—though I wasn’t sure he would.
While Steven finished preparing for bed, I rolled onto my side so he couldn’t see my phone and typed what does collaring mean in sex because I couldn’t get the thought out of my head since Michelle had said something to me earlier.
A few BDSM websites popped up in the search. I nervously glanced at Steven to make sure that he couldn’t see—because I didn’t want him to think I was searching something that I might not even be into—then clicked on the first link.
After I read through the article three times, the bed dipped beside me, and Steven slipped underneath the sheets with me. I quickly shut the phone off and hid it underneath the pillow so the light wouldn’t glare in the darkness.
I turned onto my back and stared up at the dark ceiling.
Collaring a submissive meant commitment.
Did that mean that I was the only person he was seeing and interested in seeing right now? We spent more time together than he did with anyone else in the class, hopefully. But did this mean serious, serious? Just last week, he’d freaked out that I had slept over. And I didn’t have to wear the necklace at all times. Only during class and when we were together. Did that mean something? Or maybe he did expect me to always wear it.
Only one way I would ever find out. I’d have to ask him.