Page 42 of Even Werewolves Learn

Louis

Could I have let Eliza down softly? Definitely.

Did I want to? Not even a bit.

Instead I made it gross and public, and I can’t find any regret in me.

She’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since Constance paired us up.

I had a feeling the only thing she wanted when Constance announced the pairs at the beginning of the year was to hook up with me.

Once upon a time, I would have probably done just that.

But I met Constance, and since then, it’s like she’s the only woman in the world. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. I’ve had no taste for hooking up in weeks.

I’ve fucked my fist an unmentionable number of times, though. Always with Constance on my mind.

It’s probably why I’m so harsh with Eliza.

But also because she doesn’t seem to understand the word “no.”

I told her I wasn’t interested. I kept my distance.

But no, she’s been sending me messages on my holo at all times of the day and the night. It started with innuendos, but each message turned more pushy, more racy, and came with pictures that I kept deleting.

Even when I stopped answering altogether.

So when she caressed my thigh under our desks a couple of minutes ago, I probably should have been more vocal about not wanting her to touch me. Instead, I pushed her hand away and went back to the list of plays Constance gave us to pick from.

But then, she did it again, and I slapped her hand under the desk.

Someone “normal” would have stopped by now, but that girl has probably never been told “no,” or worse, she doesn’t care.

And when the next time she dropped her hand on my lap, it ended up on my crotch, I’d had enough.

I could also have been more polite even if I did it publicly, but a—huge—part of me hopes that if I act crass again, maybe Constance will send me to the dean’s office and I’ll get to spend my Saturday mornings in her company—again.

I miss her.

I don’t miss having to wake up at the crack of dawn to go back to the city, and I’m not going to lie, I’d rather stay in bed on Saturday morning—at least a couple more hours—but only if it means Constance is in said bed with me.

But she still hasn’t contacted me about finding out what my knot would feel inside of her, and I’m trying to respect that.

To a certain extent.

“Louis, what’s going on?” Constance asks, a bit taken aback by my harsh tone.

Eliza is still sitting too close to me even after I moved my chair away from our desks.

Did she move closer to me when I spoke?

I wouldn’t put it past her.

“He’s being gross again, Miss Jardin,” Eliza has the nerve to say, as if she’s completely innocent.

The only reason I’m not contradicting her in front of everyone is because I want to be in detention again. Instead, I let a cheeky smile stretch on my lips.

It doesn’t matter if I don’t feel cheeky at all right now. I don’t even care that Eliza won’t be punished for the blatant refusal to acknowledge that I did not consent to any of what she’s been throwing at me since the beginning of the year, or that I’m pretty sure it won’t stop her from doing it again.