Chapter 9: Fraying at the Edges
Mira left the library on unsteady legs.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, but the sound echoed inside her like a smmed fist. Her heart wouldn’t settle. Her body pulsed with heat and shame and a low, steady ache that wouldn’t go away.
She hadn't been touched. Not really.
But it felt like Lena had carved something into her skin anyway—just with her voice. Her eyes. Her stillness.
And Mira had obeyed.
She walked home half-numb, hands shaking inside her sleeves. Her legs kept moving because they had to, not because she knew where she was going. By the time she got to her dorm, her throat was tight and her cheeks were flushed and her stomach was knotted so badly she could barely breathe.
She locked the door behind her and stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with herself.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t touch herself.
She just stood there.
Her mind circled back again and again to that moment—Lena’s fingers barely brushing her neck, her breath hot against Mira’s ear. The softness of her tone. The command beneath it.
Still.
Mira sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees. She rocked a little without realizing it. She wanted something, but she didn’t know what.
No. She did.
She wanted Lena to finish it.
To undo her completely.
She wanted hands. She wanted permission. She wanted—
Fuck.
She buried her face in her arms.
She couldn’t do this.
---
The next few days blurred.
She went to css. She smiled when people spoke to her. She did her work, mostly.
But she was slipping.
Everything irritated her. Her clothes were too much. Her body felt wrong. Her focus was ruined. Someone in css accidentally bumped her shoulder, and she flinched so hard she nearly dropped her bag.
At night, she sat at her desk and stared at her phone. No messages from Lena. Nothing since that night.
No command. No praise.
Nothing.
She wanted to ask. She wanted to beg. But she didn’t even know how.
Instead, she tried to act normal.
She texted her friends back. She watched something dumb and funny. She answered emails. She read the same paragraph of her textbook six times and retained nothing.
By the fourth night, she gave up pretending.
She turned off her light. Sat on her bed in the dark. Pressed her hand between her thighs through the fabric of her sweatpants and felt how soaked she already was.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t want to do it alone.
She wanted Lena to make her.
The need burned so hot and sharp that it felt humiliating. Mira squeezed her eyes shut, curled in on herself, and tried to breathe through it.
It didn’t work.
She didn’t sleep that night either.
---
Friday afternoon. It rained.
The campus looked dull and soft, wet trees lining the path as Mira walked toward the student center with her hood up. She hadn’t pnned on going, but she couldn’t sit still anymore. She needed something to do.
Inside was warm. Loud with chatter and the smell of coffee. She stood in line at the café just to have something in her hands.
She didn’t expect to see Lena.
But she did.
At the corner table, alone. A half-finished drink beside her, tablet open in front of her, one hand on her cheek like she was bored. She was wearing a bck turtleneck, sleeves pushed to the elbow, wristwatch gleaming.
Mira’s pulse spiked.
Lena hadn’t seen her yet.
Mira didn’t think. She just moved.
She walked over like her body belonged to someone else. She stopped at Lena’s table, heart pounding.
Lena looked up slowly.
Their eyes met.
A pause.
“Hi,” Mira said.
It came out shaky. Desperate.
Lena blinked once, gaze cool. “Hi.”
Mira stood there, clutching her drink.
“I, um. I just—” She swallowed. “Do you want company?”
It wasn’t subtle. Not even close.
Lena’s eyes flicked down her body, then back up.
A long silence passed.
Then Lena leaned back in her chair, legs crossing.
“I didn’t think we were breaking cover in public,” she said quietly.
Mira’s ears went red. “We’re not. I just—” She faltered. “I needed to see you.”
She hated how raw she sounded. Like a child.
Lena studied her for a moment. Then patted the chair beside her.
Mira sat.
Too fast. Too eager.
She stared at her drink, trying to steady her breathing.
Lena didn’t speak. She returned her gaze to her tablet, flipping a page.
Mira’s leg bounced. Her fingers gripped the paper cup until it crinkled.
She couldn’t take it.
“Did I do something wrong?” she whispered.
Lena didn’t look up. “No.”
“Then why are you—” Mira stopped herself. Her voice cracked.
Lena turned a page.
“You’re not in trouble, Mira,” she said calmly.
Mira bit her lip so hard it hurt.
“But you’re not in control right now either.”
Lena finally looked at her.
And the weight of that gaze almost made Mira cry.
“You want something from me,” Lena said, low. “But you don’t know how to ask for it yet.”
Mira’s breath hitched.
“Good girls wait,” Lena added. “You want to be good, don’t you?”
Mira nodded, instantly. “Yes.”
Lena smiled, and something about it made Mira’s stomach twist.
“Then wait.”
Mira looked away, throat tight, body aching.
She didn’t know how long she could.
