Elyse Song always walked the straight line and always looked fucking great doing it.

And Pax is panicking.

Please don't fucking freak out, he pleads in his head when his girlfriend stirs in his arms. Please don't, fuck.

She opens her eyes and he wants to fucking die.

"Good morning," Elyse whispers, squinting.

Pax doesn't want to fucking deal with whatever her reaction will be when she's more awake and remembers they fucked. He buries his head in her neck, dragging his mouth from the hollow of her throat to her collarbone to her fucking shoulder, tightening his hold on her.

Vanilla and fucking caramel. Pax loves that shit.

"I have to go back to my room to get ready for class," she whispers, threading her fingers in his hair.

"Fuck class." Fuck me instead. Raising his head, Pax looks at her with a frown and asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She scrunches her nose and smiles at him. Fucking phew. "But okay."

Well, she's not fucking freaking out. That's a fucking good thing.

Pax kisses her. "I'll pick you up again for breakfast."

The smile he gets makes his fucking stomach churn around their knots.

But, well, you see, Pax has a thing for messing her up, unraveling her impeccable fucking appearances, so he can't help it when he pulls her to his lap in her dress for today—soft fucking purple—and bunches it up her hips while she straddles him.

Teases him.

"Wanna fuck you now," Pax growls.

And, see, his girlfriend is a fucking control freak. Confident, fucking bold. "I didn't hear a please, Sandejas."

Jesus Christ. Pax lolls his head back when she just hovers above him, not moving.

"Well?" she goads.

Fucking, fuck, fuck—

He doesn't beg. He's pretty sure Sandejases don't fucking beg, and a please is hardly begging, but it's cute she thinks she's in charge just because she's on top.

Big mistake. Elyse rolls her hips and Pax hisses, bucks his hips up, but she moves off and raises her eyebrow, singing, "I'm still waiting."

He snaps, "Fine, fuck, fuck me, please."

Jesus fucking Christ.

There's a satisfied smile on her face when she hears it and sinks down, and when Pax tries to get her to hurry along, to move on with the fucking teasing, she grabs his hands, pins them above his head and interlaces their fingers, and whispers, "Don't move, love. I'm the one fucking you."

He almost has a fucking spasm hearing that dirty word from her pretty mouth, and he tilts his head up to kiss her, completely at her mercy.

At breakfast, she puts the table napkin over her legs and slices her pancakes, smiling at him innocently like she didn't just—quite literally—fucked him over.

Pax is in a fucking great mood all day. That is, until his phone doesn't do shit again and Elyse doesn't text him.

He scowls and texts her before lacrosse. fucking miss u already damn it. i have practice but pax fucking time after

It's a question, but he doesn't put a question mark because it's also a demand.

He expects her to respond after his shower. It's been two fucking hours out in the field.

Still nothing.

Pax bites down his irritation and slams his locker closed. Maybe she's busy. His girlfriend fucking does that, always forgets to text him like she doesn't miss him. He scowls, but it's fine. He'll come see her instead.

He finds her at the student lounge with her tutoring shit again, but this time, it's a girl who's actually focused on what Elyse is teaching. Thank fuck.

Pax dumps his bag on the table and scrapes the chair back across from her, spreading his legs.

The freshman looks at him, widens her eyes, and then tears her gaze away like she just watched him murder in cold fucking blood.

Pax waits for his girlfriend to acknowledge him, to glance at him and smile, but she doesn't. He frowns.

When the freshman gives him her fourth nervous glance, like she's actually fucking afraid he'll drag her to the pits of hell, Elyse clenches her jaw and looks up. "Pax, please leave. You're distracting her."

He opens his mouth—

"I'm serious, don't test me." Elyse's voice drops lower.

He's—he's stunned.

His cool and collected girlfriend is mad at him?

Oh, shit. The fuck did he do for that to happen?

Pax swallows thickly and stands up slowly, taking his bag. Elyse doesn't look away from him. "I'll wait downstairs," he mutters, turning away and leaving before she could kick his ass.

When his girlfriend finally comes down half an hour later, Pax stands up, fucking nervous. "Hey."

"I told you not to do that ever again," Elyse says, and Pax blinks at her face—she's still angry. "I don't appreciate you barging in on my tutoring sessions like they're nothing and I don't appreciate you disregarding what I said the last time."

Pax's jaw tightens. "I—you weren't texting."

"I was busy, as you just saw." She sounds tired, and her voice is small. Fuck, fuck.

"I'm sorry," he grits out. "I won't do it again." I just fucking missed you, he wants to say, but it's certainly not what his pissed off girlfriend wants to hear from him.

Elyse walks ahead like she didn't hear him.

Shit, shit, shit.

Pax hurries after her, gently takes her elbow to stop her. "Elyse. What—is there something else I did? Fucking tell me."

"Last night." Elyse turns to him slowly, and fucking shit, fuck it all to fucking shit. He knew it, he knew she was going to fucking freak out—"You said I had no idea how many times you've wanted to ruin me."

Pax blinks, his hand slowly falling to his side.

Elyse tilts her head up to look at him. "How many times, Pax? And since when?"

What.

"I—"

"Because if I remember correctly," Elyse continues saying in her fucking soft voice, "you started staring at me this year. What, did you just suddenly join the club of all the assholes wanting to know what the fuss was about with me? Is that why you said you wanted to kiss me that day Wesley and I broke up?"

"Like you're any different," his friend says with a grin. "You wanna kiss her, too. You wanna know what the fuss is all about."

Pax grits his teeth and says in a rush, "No, actually. I just wanted—"

"To ruin me, yes, you said that," Elyse snaps. "What, you get satisfaction in knowing that you were the only one successful who got me in your bed? Congratulations, then. You're the same as everyone else."

FUCK. "Elyse, wait." He grabs her wrist before she can leave. "Fucking listen to me, will you?"

When she looks up at him, her eyes are wet. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I wanted to be the person you could trust to let your fucking guard down," Pax mutters, fingers shaking around her wrist, please don't leave, please don't fucking leave—"That's what I meant with ruin. You're always in control, always collected, and I wanted to see you let go of that with me. I'm sorry for saying it the first time we fuc—the first time, but no, I don't get satisfaction in knowing that I was the only one fucking successful, I don't give a shit about that. What I fucking care about is that last night and this morning was ours, no one fucking else's, and I'm fucking happy you trusted me. Please don't break up with me, fucking please."

Elyse is crying. Pax sighs and brushes his thumb on her cheek. "Fucking hell."

"That's the most you've ever said to me," she mutters.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Pax shuts his eyes. "Jesus, I'm—I'm fucking new to this, give me some fucking training wheels."

It makes her smile. Slightly.

But then she looks up at him again and asks, "So why did you want to kiss me? That day at the bleachers?"

Fuck. No way out of this, then.

Pax swallows and answers, "I wanted to kiss you because you told me you wanted to kiss me."