Why are you like this

4.

The car glided through the streets, and every minute felt like an hour. I tried to focus on the outside world—on the pedestrians, the traffic, the light filtering through the windows—to avoid thinking about Patrick sitting next to me. But his presence felt almost physical, as if he knew every movement I made, every twitch of my muscles.

He remained silent, but his eyes constantly roamed over me, lingering just a moment longer than necessary for casual observation. I could feel the internal tension rising, along with a strange excitement that I couldn’t fully control.

— Are you sure you want to go to that university? — he suddenly said, his voice low, with a hidden irony. — You know, it’s not exactly full of the brightest kids. I think you could choose a more… suitable place.

I clenched my fingers on my backpack and answered calmly, trying to maintain my composure:

— My university works for me. I study there because I want to be myself, not to meet someone else’s standards.

Patrick smirked slightly and leaned closer, so I felt the faint warmth of his breath. At that moment, he brushed a finger along the edge of my knee, barely touching me, as if testing my reaction.

I immediately pushed his hand away and said firmly, holding back the tremor in my voice:

— Don’t you dare!

He just smirked, his eyes mixing playfulness, challenge, and curiosity. It seemed to me that for him, this wasn’t just a gesture—it was a test, an experiment. And I understood that giving in even slightly would make me weaker in this invisible game.

— Seriously? — he said softly, almost in a whisper. — Maybe you’re still a virgin?

I leaned back against the seat, trying to calm my breathing, feeling the tension rise again with renewed force. His eyes were no longer just attentive—they were searching for weaknesses, testing me, watching for any reaction.

— And remember, — he added after a pause, — I can be patient, but my games are long.

I remained silent, gripping my backpack on my lap, knowing the ride to the university would be filled with subtle psychological provocations, tests of endurance, and invisible maneuvers. I had to be prepared for every step, every glance, every word, to avoid letting him control me.

The silence in the car was heavy, and every word we spoke felt like a shot leaving a mark in the air. I realized this trip was more than just a ride to the university. It was a test, and I already knew I couldn’t just sit and observe. I had to act, protect myself, and maintain my boundaries and inner freedom.

We arrived at the university, and I began preparing to get out of the car. I already felt some relief, thinking that this short stage of the game would finally be over.

— Stop, — Patrick said suddenly, suppressing a smile. — I’ll drop you off one stop later. You’ll walk the rest.

I froze, surprised and slightly irritated at the same time:

— Why?

He leaned closer, his gaze both playful and cold:

— I’m embarrassed to stop right here. I don’t want anyone to see my car… in this area.

I felt the tension tighten inside me. He had taken control of the situation again, without even pretending to ask. But I tried to remain calm:

— Fine, — I said evenly. — I’ll walk.

He smirked, seemingly pleased with my concession, and started the car. We drove a few blocks, and I watched his confidence, his light condescension, and the game he was playing. Every gesture, every glance, every word—it was all calculated.

— Well, Steph, — he said, stopping on an empty street near a trash bin, — here’s your “stop.” Enjoy the walk.

I opened the door and stepped out, feeling the morning chill and the smell of garbage. He looked at me, his blue eyes scanning my figure like fire, and a half-smile of provocation played on his lips. I stepped toward the sidewalk, feeling every muscle in my body tense.

— See you, “little sister”…

I just nodded automatically and turned away, feeling that this short walk was becoming another trial: inner tension mixing with fear and irritation, his control over the situation felt almost physical.

With every step along the sidewalk, I tried to calm my breathing, keep my head high, and not show that his game was affecting me. But inside, everything was boiling: this small provocation had become a new level in our confrontation. I understood that any wrong move could give him another reason to reinforce his control.

I had already crossed the university threshold when I suddenly heard that shout. My heart clenched, my breathing became uneven. Patrick was standing by the car, smirking, and his voice carried across the crowd of students:

— Hey, you forgot the money for the blowjob!

I froze, feeling blood rush to my face. The crowd of students began turning toward us. Whispers and quiet laughter spread through the courtyard. My body went rigid, and the only thought in my head was how to react to maintain my composure and not panic.

I took a deep breath, clutching my backpack to my chest, and spun sharply toward him, keeping my back straight and my gaze steady:

— Shut your mouth! — I said firmly, my voice louder than I expected but confident enough to command attention.

Patrick just smirked slightly. He knew he had made a dramatic move and clearly enjoyed the tension he had created.

I quickly pushed through the crowd of students, trying not to look back, feeling each step as a small victory over my panic, my heart still pounding. People were whispering; some even stopped to watch what was happening.

Inside me, anger, shame, and determination swirled together. Anger at Patrick for publicly humiliating me, shame over the situation and the onlookers, and determination—not to let him feel in control of me again.

When I finally entered the building, I exhaled in relief, realizing that although this little provocation had been public, I had maintained control over myself. But deep down, I knew this was only the beginning, and Patrick had already started a new game—right in front of everyone.