Circles of Influence
1813 Words
Cassie’s POV
The cafeteria smells like grease and stale sweat, but it’s still better than the tension clinging to my skin like perfume.
I can feel them watching me.
Not the whole school — though a few heads turn when I walk in, bruised pride hidden beneath lip gloss and that too-still expression I’ve mastered. No, I mean his friends.
They're already at the table when I get there.
Jessie doesn’t look up, not at first. Just sprawled back in his seat like he owns the damn world, one arm slung casually behind the girl he now claims like territory.
Me.
I hesitate, but only for a second. My steps don’t falter — I won’t let them — but I know he sees the moment I second-guess myself. His jaw ticks. His gaze drags up to mine.
And just like that, the chair beside him scrapes back, empty, waiting.
He doesn't say a word. Neither do I.
I sit.
His hand rests on the inside of my thigh the second I do — firm, grounding. Possessive. No teasing in his grip. No room to pretend I’m not here because he wants me here.
Across the table, Roman — all muscle and smirk — raises a brow.
“Well look who’s finally decided to join the dark side.”
I meet his gaze with a level stare, biting into an apple with more force than necessary.
“Wasn’t aware there was a line to cross.”
Another guy I vaguely recognize as Maddox — leaner, quieter — chuckles into his drink. “You’d be surprised.”
Jessie’s fingers tighten slightly on my thigh, just enough for me to straighten my spine. I can feel the subtle warning in his touch — a reminder to watch my mouth, even if we’re surrounded by laughter and trays full of slop.
It’s strange.
The table feels like a different world. Something darker. Louder. Messier. But controlled — because he controls it. These aren’t just teammates. They’re something more. I don’t know the rules yet, but I can tell every smile comes with teeth.
Still, I sit tall, knees crossed under the table, letting his hand stay exactly where it is.
I might’ve surrendered to Jessie.
But I haven’t surrendered to them.
Not yet.
Jessie finally speaks. “She’s learning.” His voice is quiet but firm — a verbal collar. “And she’ll keep learning.”
The guys nod like that settles it.
And in a way… it does.
Because I don’t protest.
I don’t fight.
I stay where I am — in the lion’s den — with the lion’s hand on my thigh and fire smoldering in my chest.
And somehow, I’m not afraid.
Not of them.
Not of him.
Not even of the version of myself I’m slowly becoming.
---
I look around at the other subs before my eyes land on her.
She’s perched in his lap like she was made for it.
The girl — blonde, soft, silent — with her head resting against Roman’s shoulder, fingers curled loosely in the hem of his black hoodie. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even flinch when he reaches down and runs two fingers along her thigh, pushing the edge of her skirt higher, just because he can.
His hand stays there. Casual. Brazen. Like it belongs.
She doesn’t move.
I can’t look away.
Her eyes flick up — just for a moment — and meet mine across the table. There’s no challenge in them. No embarrassment, no apology. Just calm. Acceptance. Pride.
Like this is exactly where she’s supposed to be.
And suddenly, I’m burning again.
Not from jealousy. Not exactly.
From confusion. From the twist in my gut that says I understand her in a way I wish I didn’t.
Jessie notices. Of course he does.
His hand slips a little higher under the table, fingers brushing the lace of my panties — not trying anything overt, just there, staking his claim in silence.
“You like watching her?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that the others don’t hear. “Or is it that you want to know what it feels like?”
I swallow hard. My throat is dry, but I force myself to answer with something that sounds like defiance.
“She looks… comfortable.”
Jessie’s mouth curves, amused. “That’s because she listens.”
His thumb circles just once — slow, deliberate — before pulling away entirely, leaving a trail of heat and frustration in its wake.
“Unlike you.”
I feel my cheeks heat, but I don’t look away from the girl across from me. She’s tucked deeper into Roman’s side now, eyes half-lidded, barely there. Not a word spoken between them, and yet she looks anchored — like nothing could shake her while she’s in his arms.
And for the first time since this whole thing started…
…I wonder what it would feel like to let go like that.
Completely.
Jessie leans in, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a promise and a warning all at once.
“You’ll learn, Cassie.” His hand returns to my thigh, firmer this time, fingers squeezing just enough to make me gasp.
“And when you do… you’ll never want to leave it."
After Lunch – Cassie’s POV
The bell rings.
Chairs scrape, trays clatter, conversations resume like nothing had happened — like the rest of them hadn’t just watched a girl melt into her Dom’s lap like sin draped in silk.
I stand too fast. My legs are unsteady, heat blooming between them, and Jessie notices — again.
Always.
He grabs my wrist before I can bolt.
“Library after school,” he murmurs. No explanation. No hint of a question. Just expectation.
My pulse flutters. I want to say no. I want to roll my eyes, make some smartass remark, remind him I don’t take orders.
But my mouth betrays me.
“…Okay.”
His fingers brush the inside of my wrist before he lets me go, and I feel it everywhere.
---
Later – The Library
It’s nearly empty when I push open the heavy doors.
That quiet, sacred kind of silence that usually makes my skin crawl. But today? It’s thick. Tense. Like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
Jessie’s already there. Seated in one of the private study nooks at the back, stretched out like he owns the place. One hand resting lazily over the armrest, the other flipping through a worn paperback. His eyes lift when he hears me.
And just like that, I’m stripped bare.
“You came,” he says, more pleased than surprised.
“I always do what I’m told,” I reply dryly, sarcasm covering the truth in my voice.
He raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
The book shuts. He gestures for me to sit across from him. I don’t move.
He leans forward slowly, eyes sharpening. “Are we about to have a problem?”
And God help me — I want us to.
I want to push him again.
To see how far I can go.
To see how far he’ll go to pull me back.
But instead, I sit.
Because the truth is, I’m tired of pretending. Tired of holding all the wires inside myself taut. Tired of not understanding what this thing is between us — only knowing I need it.
Jessie watches me settle in like he can read every thought I’m too afraid to speak.
“You liked watching earlier,” he says, tone low. Measured. “Roman and his girl.”
I hesitate to respond but decided to be honest "Yes?"
His lips twitch, not quite a smile—more like the ghost of one. Dangerous. Knowing.
“I know you did,” he murmurs, voice dropping into that dark velvet register that slides right beneath my skin. “You were practically trembling. Jealous? Curious?” He leans closer across the table. “Both?”
I try to hold his gaze, but my mouth goes dry. “It was intense.”
His brows lift. “Intense?” He repeats the word like it amuses him. “You mean it turned you on.”
I blink, caught, because he’s not wrong. I can still feel it. The image of her—soft and pliant in Roman’s lap, whispering something only he could hear before he kissed her like he wanted to own every breath she ever took.
“I didn’t say that,” I mumble, heat licking up my throat.
“You didn’t have to.”
Jessie shifts, and I swear the air between us pulls tighter like a drawn bowstring. He stands, slow, deliberate, then rounds the table. My breath stalls as he stops right beside me.
One hand slips to the back of my chair, and the other presses lightly to the side of my neck—just his palm, no pressure, just heat. Possession.
“I think you’re ready for more,” he says softly. “But you’re still pretending not to be.”
My heart thunders. I should protest. Laugh. Push back. But I don’t. Because his words wrap around something deep in me—something I’ve kept locked up, even from myself.
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Do you want what she had?”
I close my eyes, inhale, and say it before I can lose the nerve.
“…Yes.”
Jessie exhales like he’s just won something.
“Good girl.”
My thighs clench, and I hate how quickly that praise hits. How it coils around my spine and makes me ache in places I shouldn’t be aching in a public damn library.
“Then listen carefully,” he whispers, fingers tightening just enough to make me tilt my head without realizing. “This thing between us… isn’t going to work unless you’re all in. You don’t get to be my brat just when it’s fun or when it turns you on. If you want to be mine—really mine—you follow the rules. You obey. You trust me to know how far you can go… and how far I can take you.”
My breath catches.
His hand leaves my throat, but his words stay like a brand seared into me.
“You’ve got until tonight to decide, Cassie.” His voice is low but firm. “Because if you come to me again pretending like this doesn’t matter to you—pretending you don’t matter to me—I won’t be as nice as I’ve been.”
Then he steps back, dark eyes never leaving mine, and walks away, leaving me breathless and shaking in the middle of the goddamn library.
And I know exactly what I’m going to choose.
Because it’s already too late.
I’m his.
And I think I want to be.
- Writer
