tomorrow is the last chapter for this part! and then we move to part 7. :) :) :) (there are a total of 46 chapters!)

warning: sexual themes, use of the safeword, MILD degradation!

*

Andy's senior year begins immediately with thesis.

She and Johann are partners, and Andy is relieved—Johann is a great friend, and she's not uncomfortable or shy around him, and they'll have fun (dying together) working on their thesis. Andy imagines that it won't be that bad. Truthfully, she's a little excited—a bit worried about the workload and the busy schedule, having to juggle school and Baked!, but excited, nonetheless.

Rhysand is a rising producer, with his name in newspapers and interviews, and he's working on an album again—the artist's, the one he worked a month for abroad. He's busy, and he has other tracks to work on for other musicians, and people are waiting for his next big project, but Andy can tell he loves his job. He loves creating and touching music—Andy just needs to remind herself of this. She's not second to Rhysand's work.

Rhysand makes time to visit her at school with a lollipop in his mouth during her lunch hours, just so he can see her for a little while because he knows he's going home late. Rhysand slips tissue papers in between her notebooks with unfinished but lovely lyrics on them, a note of have a good day in school, baby :). Rhysand still forces the milk into the refrigerator even though it doesn't fit (Jenner has had to change shirts multiple times, and he's pissed off), and he slow dances with Andy in the kitchen even though he's forced to, and Andy steps all over his slippers, but he's smiling and kissing her forehead and the pancakes in the stove burn.

On a particularly cold night, on his bed, Andy misses him. He's working late—he already told her this, assured her he'd eaten already, and that he'll come home as soon as he can, but there's a stir in her lower belly, and she can't wait anymore, so she takes a picture and sends it to him.

Rhysand calls her.

Andy, face heating, answers. "Hi."

"Feeling needy, sunshine?"

Andy bites her lip.

Rhysand hums. "Me fucking you last night wasn't enough?"

Andy closes her eyes in embarrassment but makes a sound of acknowledgement. Her skin feels like it's on fire. "Need you now," she mutters.

Rhysand groans, and then she hears him fumbling with his jeans, and then filthy words come out of his mouth and Andy touches her skin with her fingers, Rhysand's voice in her ear.

She loves Rhysand's voice. She'll never get tired of his voice, she wants it forever.

This is what's on her mind when the pleasure gets too much, and she hears Rhysand on the other end of the line, grunting and panting and saying her name, and Andy loves the fact that she's the only one who can hear him like this. Make him feel like this.

When he gets home, he presses Andy's face into the pillows, and he paints her body with his lips, sucking red on the lightness of her skin, and Andy goes to school with a scarf around her neck and soreness all over her limbs.

Andy visits MJ with a box of cheese tarts, and MJ rants to her about her work in her family's business, and then they make a plan to visit Sabina together this week. She sees a lot of her other friends, too—Kat, Piper and Sam, even Bash. Since last semester, he's kept his promise—friends, nothing more. He's not going to make a move again, and Andy is glad.

She's studying with Johann, beginning work on their thesis, when Erika calls her. It's not her shift for another hour, but her boss says they need the extra hands, and for someone to train the new guy coming in. Andy packs up her things, and Johann waves her away, says he'll message her instead.

The new guy, Kyle, is younger than Andy—but he's tall, has big, doe eyes, a boyish smile, and he has shining black hair. It reminds Andy of Rhysand.

"This is Andy," Erika says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "She's been working with us for three years—almost all of her college life. She'll be training you for a bit until you get used to the work. If you have any questions, you can always ask her—I'll pair your shift hours with each other."

Andy smiles brightly and offers her hand to him. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

With no hesitation or an ounce of shyness, he shakes it firmly, smiles back at her. "Nice to meet you as well. I hope we get along."

Andy doesn't think that's a problem—Kyle is very attentive, and he's not arrogant, or obnoxious, and Andy likes him already. They have an easygoing conversation, and he's funny, makes Andy laugh a lot, and she thinks that work is going to be fun with them on shifts together.

"You're a freshman, right?" Andy asks, just as they're closing up. Kyle offered to clean the tables and stack the chairs, says it's his first duty on his first day, and Andy laughs and lets him. "Where are you from?"

"Fresh and new, yes," he answers, gathering used mugs and plates. "And I've lived here all my life."

"Oh, that's cool." Andy takes a bite out of a brownie. "If you have trouble with any of your courses or professors, let me know, I'll be happy to help. I still have my notes from my first year."

He looks up at her, eyes twinkling, and his smile is charming—he has a dimple, too. "That would be so great, Andy, thank you. I can...um, see you in school and at work, too. That's cool."

Andy grins. He's so cute!

She steps out from the register. "I'll help you clean up so we can both go home early. Trust me, it's faster that way."

Kyle's smile is wide, and Andy doesn't see it, but his cheeks are pink.

*

Andy uses the safeword once.

But she swears that what happened—it's not on purpose.

Andy sees Kyle a lot—the first time, in school, she's eating lunch with Kat, and he goes over to her, and Andy, excited and cheerful, hugs him, introduces him to Kat, and asks him to eat with them. It's fascinating to Andy how he gets along with everyone, and they're endeared by him, like she is.

At work, Andy is having more fun than she ever did in her three years at Baked!, having someone to talk to and laugh with makes the job less taxing (they watch mouths move and make up conversations their customers have—they had to roleplay a breakup, students gossiping, the works. Kyle is a lot more funny than she is, but he always laughs at her—with her). Kyle also offers to do a lot of what they should be doing together, and asks Andy to just sit and rest. The kid has a lot of strength and energy, and he makes Andy's work easier—even though she already told him he doesn't need to. Kyle is persistent when he wants to be, and it's adorable how good of a kid he is.

He asks Andy for her notes, and sometimes, they quiz each other while they clean up and close up the shop. Andy also found time to teach him how to do her cheese tarts, and he gets frosting on her nose, and Andy pushes him and they find themselves on the floor, stomachs hurting with laughter.

But it's not on purpose.

Kyle brings her coffee just as she's walking to her first class, as if he already knows which way she's coming from. He offers to help her with her books and laptop, and Andy smiles at him gratefully, ruffles his hair. Kyle joins her while she's working on her thesis in the library, and he passes her notes in bright pink, and Andy has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and she passes the note back to him.

Because Andy feels that he's a good friend—like a little brother, one that she feels the need to take care of—she buys him a meal after school, and Kyle eats a lot, and he teases Andy to keep buying him food, like a puppy that keeps trailing after her. Even walks her back to her dorm after a shift.

Rhysand asks about him, because her phone keeps ringing while they're watching a movie on his bed, and Kyle sent a series of texts:

Andy!!! :D It's kyle, your favorite co-worker and freshman :D

Are u busy

If ure not pls come help me

Statistics is kicking me: in the butt

Pls pls pls ill do all the cleaning for our next shift :D

And pls buy me food im starving

:D

Andy picks up her phone and laughs. "What a kid," she mutters, typing her response.

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. "Who is?"

Andy tells him that he's her mentee, sort of. "He's like a little brother, it's cute," Andy says, smiling. Im busy, go away

His reply comes in a second. :(

NO DONT AASJHDHS I'll help u with stat tomorrow! Bring your books and everything! You're doing all the cleaning OK

:( :( :( :(

Andy grins. Fine I'll buy you food too

:D YAY SEE YOU TOMORROW!

Andy puts her phone down. "Sorry, we can play it now."

Rhysand doesn't question it, but he picks her up after work one day.

Andy doesn't even see the Jeep pull up, she's not expecting him—he said he's working late, often these days, and Andy understands how busy he is—she is, too. But she's recording the bakeshop's finances while Kyle cleans up, and then he's thrusting his phone in her face, and Andy raises her head, startled.

Kyle chuckles, looking at the screen. "I caught you."

Andy sighs. "That was a bad picture. Delete it."

He's grinning. "It's not. Look, you're cute."

He shows her, and Andy scowls. She looks like a scared cat. "That is so flattering," Andy says, pursing her lips as she drops her pen and rounds the counter. "I don't look tired at all."

"No, really," Kyle mutters, staring at the picture again. He doesn't catch on to her sarcasm. "You don't."

"I look like a scared cat."

"A cute cat," he corrects, tapping his screen. "I needed a contact picture. It'd be good to see your face when I call you."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You'd call me for food."

"And you'd treat me."

"Delete or I'll make you regret it."

Kyle looks at her. Backs up a little, raises his palms. "Andy. Let's talk about this."

"Brat," Andy says, running after him just as he takes off, laughing loudly. Andy almost stumbles against the chairs, but she has her eyes on her target. "Kyle, get back here!"

"Sorry, no can do." He grins and shrugs. "What are you even worried about? You're gorgeous, anyway."

Andy ignores the compliment. That, or it goes over her head—she's too busy trying to catch him, grabs onto his waist. "It's very unflattering."

Kyle keeps laughing. He raises the phone above his head, knowing full well Andy can't reach it, and Andy's jumping around, reaching with all her arm's might. "Trust me, no one's going to see this except for me—ow, Andy!"

Andy gasps. Brings her hands to her mouth. She accidentally socked him in the face with her elbow! "Oh my God, Kyle, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

Kyle has his eyes shut, and he's hissing, face contorted in pain.

"Oh my God, let me see." Andy cups his cheeks and tiptoes, leaning closer. His nose is bleeding. "Kyle, I am so sorry. Sit down, your nose is bleeding."

"Ah, fuck," he says, leaning into her as she guides him to a chair. Andy puts a hand behind his head and gently pushes it downward, her free hand grabbing a towel from her apron to collect the bleeding. She pinches the bridge of his nose softly, and Kyle hisses again, eyes squeezing shut.

"It's not swollen, that's good," Andy mutters, leaning closer to see, kneeling in front of him. "I'm so sorry, does it hurt?"

"Just a bit," he says, and then a laugh escapes his mouth. "You have a mean elbow."

Andy laughs, heaving a relieved sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Stop apologizing, it's fine." He waves her off. "I can do it. You can go home."

"Are you crazy? We have to watch the bleeding for five minutes." Andy slaps his hand away, frowning. "We have to hold it again for ten if it doesn't stop. And if it's still bleeding, I need to bring you to a doctor. So shut up."

Kyle chuckles. Opens his eyes. "Do you really want me to delete the picture?"

Andy bites her lip. "Yes."

"But I'm hurt."

Andy sighs loudly. "Fine, keep it to yourself, okay?"

Kyle grins, triumphant. "Promise."

Thankfully, his nose stops bleeding after five minutes. When he stands up, he stumbles a little bit, but otherwise he's fine. Andy's relieved. She's so relieved, but she offers to take him home just in case.

Kyle shakes his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, I can't let you walk back alone."

Andy sighs. "Call me if you feel unwell, okay? I'll take you to the doctor."

He stares at her.

Andy blinks at him. "What?"

His cheeks are pink. He looks down and clears his throat. "Uh, nothing. I'll call you. But, um, is someone picking you up? There's someone outside."

Andy twists her head around so fast it almost gives her a whiplash.

Rhysand is leaning against the Jeep with an unlit stick in his mouth. Automatically, Andy grins, heart soaring, and she grabs her bag and waves hurriedly, running for the door. "Rest, okay? Call me if you feel unwell, bye! See you tomorrow!"

"Bye," he says, watching after her, raising his hand in a wave.

Andy jumps to Rhysand's arms as soon as she reaches him. "Hi, baby. I didn't know you were coming to pick me up!"

"I left messages," he says, taking the stick out. Then he grips her chin, tilts his head down, and kisses her hard.

Andy lets out a surprised gasp, but she threads her fingers in his hair and kisses him back, anyway.

Rhysand pulls away, and Andy can't read his eyes. "He's staring."

"Who?" she asks, but she doesn't particularly care, she's still dazed from the heated kiss he gave her.

"The kid who has a crush on you."

"He doesn't have a crush on me," Andy mutters distractedly, chasing after his lips. Rhysand kisses her again, just as hungry, but possessive. Obnoxious. "Missed you."

He opens the car door for her. "Show me when we get home. For now, are you hungry?"

Andy nods and smiles brightly, stepping up into the vehicle. Rhysand stands behind her, blocking Kyle's view—if he's watching. "Starving, actually."

"Good."

Rhysand keeps his hand on her thigh while he drives.

But it's not on purpose.

Andy already knew Rhysand gets jealous easily. Andy already knew how possessive he can get, they had nasty fights because of it. She doesn't want a repeat, but it's not on purpose—Andy sees Kyle as a friend, as a little brother. He doesn't make a move on her, doesn't hit on her, he doesn't even confess. Rhysand may be reading it wrong, he may be paranoid about what happened with Bash, but she's certain her co-worker doesn't feel that way.

He's just an adorable kid who looks up to her, and he has a good heart.

As much as Andy finds it cute that Rhysand is worried, it doesn't sit well with her when he asks her to ditch him.

"I already made plans with him," Andy says slowly, thinking of her words. "I promised I'd help him with statistics, I can't just bail on him."

Rhysand pushes his tongue against his cheek. "Sanford, he clearly likes you."

"Sophia clearly likes you, too," Andy counters, raising an eyebrow. "But I let it go because you said I was overreacting. And you said it's about work."

Rhysand's jaw tightens. "It is about work."

"Kyle is my co-worker, too," she says, standing her ground. "It's a simple job, it's not as important as yours, I know, but it's a job nonetheless. And it's true, I'm training him, that's why I have shifts with him, but we've become friends and I'm not going to ditch my friend because of your jealousy. Besides, he doesn't like me."

Rhysand stares at her. "This is fucking Bash all over again."

"Bash is different," Andy insists, trying to keep calm. "Are you going to be like this every time I have a male friend? I can't have them now?"

"That's not what I said."

"That's what you implied when you told me to ditch."

"Fine, fuck, I don't care." Rhysand stands up. Pulls a shirt over his head. "Have fun with him, then."

Andy takes a deep breath just as Rhysand slams the door.

Kyle notices she's not in the best of moods. She's working on her thesis while he solves practice tests, and she's not as cheerful or as mouthy as she is when she's with him. "You okay?" he asks, worried.

"Fine," Andy says, sighing. She rubs her forehead with two of her fingers. "I just have a baby to take care of."

"Whoa, what, you're a mom?"

Andy can't help it—she laughs out loud.

Kyle smiles. "There she is."

Andy smiles back at him. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood to tutor right now. You want to go eat instead?"

"Glad you asked," he chirps, packing up their books—carries Andy's. "This shit was giving me a headache. And because I need to cheer you up, I'll pay this time."

Andy fake-gasps as they walk out of the cafe. "Is this real life? Is Kyle Valentino, actual broke college kid who keeps pestering me to buy him food, paying this time?"

He ducks his head and blushes, walks past her. "I'm not if you keep teasing. Besides, I got my salary from Baked! yesterday—might as well spend it on you."

Andy ruffles his hair and slings her arm around his shoulder. "Ah, thank you, Andy, for helping me keep my job!"

"Shut up," Kyle mutters.

Andy laughs. "Come on, I know a good place to stuff our faces with."

It's not on purpose.

Rhysand shoves his phone into her face. "He doesn't like you?"

Andy slaps it away, glaring at him. She just came from a shift, and she's tired, and she doesn't need a fight right now. "It's just a picture, Rhysand."

It's a picture of her that Kyle uploaded on his social media page. Her cheeks are stuffed with food, but she's smiling, somehow, and her eyes are laughing, too. The caption is a smiley face.

"You were all up in my ass about Sophia," Rhysand snaps, following her to his room.

"Sophia is different—she's flirting with you!"

"This kid is fucking flirting with you, too!"

Rhysand doesn't let it go.

He doesn't let it go when he picks her up after work and sees her laughing with Kyle, jaw clenching tight. He doesn't let it go when her phone buzzes with a call, and Andy has to step out to take it, and it's just Kyle, asking if she's free tomorrow for lunch so they can celebrate the B+ he got for his statistics quiz. Rhysand doesn't let it go, keeps insisting that he's looking at her body when she bends down, that he wants her.

Andy doesn't know what to say other than, "So you don't want me to see him anymore?"

"Matter of fact, yes."

"You're making me quit my job, Rhysand," she says, seething, clenching her hands into fists. "And making me ruin a perfectly good friendship. When has Kyle ever said that he likes me? He's not crossing any lines, he respects my boundaries—"

"Get on the bed."

Andy blinks at him. "What?"

Rhysand stares at her. "You heard me."

Andy—Andy listens to him.

It's not on purpose. It's really not.

This is what she thinks as he strips her off her clothes, strips off his own. There's no sweet touches this time—and it's all harsh kisses, harsh biting and sucking on her neck, chest, stomach, thighs. He's quiet—he's never this quiet when they're on the bed, and it's worrying Andy, but there's a wave of desire that's settling in her bones and she wants him.

Andy will only ever want him.

So she doesn't complain when he flips her on her stomach, presses her into the mattress, setting a quick pace.

Andy groans and closes her eyes, fists the sheets, and it feels good, like it always does.

It feels good until Rhysand says, "Maybe you'd like him to be the one touching you, hm? You'd spread your legs for him, won't you?"

Andy saw it coming, but Rhysand doesn't mean it.

"No," Andy whispers, and her breath trembles, and her knees buckle. And she knows Rhysand doesn't mean it—he never does when they do this...a bit roughly. But it feels a little different. There's something different. It's harsher, and rougher, and his grip hurts. "No, only for you."

"Only for me," Rhysand muses with a cold laugh, and Andy stiffens. He sounds different. He sounds like he wants to hurt her—like he means the things he's saying. "I don't believe you."

Andy feels the sting on her skin, the fingers on her throat, and she cries out. Starts counting.

The bedsheets feel like sandpaper. "T-three," she says, swallowing the bitterness in her mouth, and pushing down the growing anxiety in her nerves. "I'm yours, only yours."

Rhysand hums. Pulls her hair. Tightens his hand around her neck. "I don't believe you."

Andy keeps counting. Rhysand doesn't...he doesn't mean it.

Right? He knows she only loves him. He knows she'll never...she'll never share herself with anyone else. He knows, right?

"He can't fuck you like this," Rhysand murmurs. "Whose slut are you, huh?"

And usually, Andy doesn't mind. She doesn't mind when he's mean, when they do this. When he calls her that.

But it's different this time. Rhysand sounds different, his grip is different, and it feels wrong.

"Red," Andy whispers, shutting her eyes—feeling the wetness cling to her lashes, and oh, her heart feels heavy. And weighted. And wrong. "Red, red, red," she sobs.

Rhysand pulls out of her immediately, scoops her up in his arms. She's hugging herself as she cries, can't even bring herself to look at him. "Hey, hey, sunshine—"

"You meant it," Andy says through the tears, pushing his touch away. "You meant all of it. That wasn't love—no, that wasn't even sex—you were—you were punishing me."

Rhysand's jaw tightens. "I wasn't punishing you."

Andy fists the blanket and covers it around her body. "You sounded like you wanted to hurt me."

Rhysand takes a step closer. "Sanford—"

Andy flinches at his movement and moves further up the bed.

"Let's talk about this at least," he snaps, pulling his jeans up roughly. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you—hey, don't—don't leave."

Andy puts on her shirt. "I think," she whispers, grabbing her skirt and pulling it up her legs, ignoring the way they stumble over the floor, "I think we need a break."

"We don't need shit," Rhysand says, and Andy can hear the panic in his voice. Can see it in his eyes.

"Rhysand," Andy says, staring at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Did you mean it? Did you want to hurt me?"

"No," he answers firmly. Desperately. "No, I didn't mean any of it, I didn't want to hurt you. It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

Andy stares at him.

Rhysand sucks in a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Then shakily, voice trembling, he asks, "Are you leaving me?"

"I said I think we need a break, Rhys. Not that I was leaving you."

"We don't need shit," Rhysand says again, and his voice trembles, and Andy knows he hates it. He hates feeling this kind of uncertainty. Desperation. "You talk to me, Sanford. We get through this. How can I fix this if you don't talk to me, if you walk out on me every time we have an argument?"

"You walk out on me every time we have an argument!" Andy yells, drawing her eyebrows together. "I'm asking for time, time I think we both need, because this isn't healthy!"

"You can't expect me to be perfect," Rhysand says, and Andy flinches—his words felt like a slap. "I'm your first partner, your first everything, and I'm older, and I try to be mature and to take care of you but I'm going to fuck up, too."

Andy knows he's right. His eyes are glassy.

"It didn't feel right," Andy mutters. "You didn't—I felt like you didn't love me."

"That's not true."

"I know," Andy says, hanging her head, and she's crying again, feels the burden rest heavily on her shoulders. "I know, which is why I told you to stop."

Rhysand's jaw clenches. He keeps his gaze on hers. "I won't—in the middle of an argument," Rhysand starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I won't do it again. I was in over my head about Kyle, and I was pissed you weren't listening—"

"So you decided to take out your anger on me."

"No," Rhysand snaps. "No, that's not what—that's not what happened."

Andy thinks she knows what happened.

So she whispers, bottom lip trembling, "It's not on purpose, Rhysand. I don't hang out with Kyle to piss you off. I don't stay friends with him so you can be mean to me in bed. I'm not Veronica."

Rhysand freezes. "Don't bring her up in this. She has nothing to do with this."

Andy takes a deep breath. "I'll believe you," she says. "Let's talk tomorrow, I'm tired and I can't think straight."

"Don't leave," Rhysand says, moving to block the door. His eyes are wild—panicked. "Please, sunshine, I'm—I don't feel right letting you leave while we're like this."

"We're going to go around in circles, Rhysand."

"I don't care."

"Listen to me!" Andy snaps. "Listen to what I need! This is suffocating, Rhys! And you can't—you can't guilt-trip me into staying, I need to be alone for a moment, I need to think, we can't—"

Rhysand looks so, so lost. "You're going to think about breaking up with me?"

"I didn't say that."

"If you leave, that makes you fucking immature," he says, in that threatening, low voice. "Stay and talk to me."

"You're dating me, you should know that I'm very immature," Andy grits out, grabbing her bag. She stands in front of him, jaw tight. "Rhysand."

Finally, finally, he moves.

Andy leaves, but she doesn't slam the door.