Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL] Chapter 38: The convention(1)

Ansel returned to the room quietly.

But Lance noticed it first, not the sound of footsteps, but the shift in the air.

The bathroom door was ajar, steam still clinging faintly to the edges, and Ansel’s hair was damp when he stepped back inside.

He had clearly taken a shower, looking calm and composed, like nothing ssy had happened at all.

Lance was still on the floor where he had ended up, staring at the ceiling, his body heavy and unwilling to move.

Ansel stopped in front of him and crouched down, lowering himself until they were eye level.

He reached out and took Lance’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face just enough to make him look up.

"The next ti you block , Lance," Ansel said evenly, his voice quiet but absolute, "I swear to God I will break your legs."

Lance’s throat tightened, but he didn’t look away.

Ansel’s grip didn’t tighten. If anything, it relaxed slightly.

"Only good boys get rewarded.." he continued. "And since I’m in a good mood right now, I’ll give you a little reward. Make sure you don’t waste it."

With that, he let go.

Ansel stood up, adjusted his shirt like he hadn’t just delivered a threat disguised as rcy, and walked out of the room without another word.

The front door closed a few monts later.

Lance stayed where he was for several minutes after Ansel left.

His body eventually reminded him that staying on the floor wasn’t an option forever.

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing, and glanced around the room.

The sheets needed to be washed. At least the mattress was protected, the waterproof lining had been one of the few smart decisions he’d made in his life.

He cracked a window to air the room out, letting cool morning air push out what lingered.

There were marks on the floor where he’d been earlier. He grabbed a towel, cleaned it up carefully, like this was just another task on a very long list.

After that, he stripped the bed, tossed the sheets into the washer, and stood there for a mont longer than necessary.

Then he went to take a shower.

Lance finished his shower in silence, letting the warm water run longer than necessary as if it could rinse the weight of what happened this morning off his skin, not that he minded tho.

By the ti he stepped out, his body still ached, but his head was clearer.

He dressed carefully in his work clothes. A crisp brown button up shirt and ironed trousers. He paused only once to apply a light spray of perfu at his neck and wrists.

He didn’t need anything over the top.

He needed normal today.

Lance slipped on his shoes, grabbed his phone from the wireless charger, and headed for the living room.

The phone vibrated in his hand.

He frowned slightly and checked the caller ID.

It was Professor Harding.

He heaved a sigh in relief, at least it wasn’t professor Valentino.

Lance relaxed a little and answered.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Lance," the older man said warmly. His voice carried the sa steady enthusiasm he always had in class.

"I hope I’m not calling too early."

"No, sir. I’m already up."

"Good.." Professor Harding said, sounding pleased. "I’ll get straight to it. The departnt has finalized its decision for the annual business convention."

Lance leaned lightly against the wall, already sensing where this was going.

"You’ve been selected to give the keynote student address.." the professor continued. "As the top-performing student in the business departnt, it’s your responsibility this year.."

Lance exhaled slowly. "I see."

"I know this isn’t your first convention.." Professor Harding added with a small chuckle, "but this one is important. There will be executives, investors, and recruiters present. If you play your cards right, you could secure job offers before you even graduate."

"I understand sir.." Lance replied evenly.

He had heard the speech before, almost word for word.

"The event is this Saturday," the professor continued. "That gives you three days. You’ll need a solid speech, a proper suit, and—well," he paused briefly, smiling through his voice, "a presentation worthy of the departnt."

Three days.

Lance did the math in his head automatically. It was tight, but manageable.

"Thank you for informing ," he said. "I’ll prepare."

"I had no doubt you would," Professor Harding replied. "Send a draft by tomorrow evening. I’d like to review it."

"Yes, sir. I will."

After a few more polite exchanges, the call ended.

Three days to write a speech.

Three days to get a suit tailored.

Three days to get a haircut.

Unlike the last convention, it seems there would be big-shots coming, so it would be best to bring out his A-ga.

He hoped professor Harding would send so details about the convention, at least then he could know what speech to right.

He straightened, rolled his shoulders, and stepped out of the apartnt, locking the door behind him.

Right now, work ca first.

Lance had barely gotten into the elevator when his phone vibrated.

He looked down to see a transfer notification.

[Incoming transfer]

[20,000 thousand dollars has been received into your 100xxx69 account. ]

-_-

Why did Ansel send him money? He hadn’t even finished the 50k he received from Ansel.

Was this the reward he was talking about?

"If others saw this they’ll think he’s my sugar daddy."

He sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

His broke ass would never say no to money.

He had about sixty-five thousand dollars in his account because of Ansel.

Even if Ansel wanted him to be his sugar baby, he wouldn’t even complain.

The elevator opened with a soft hiss and Lance stepped out into the lobby.

He hasn’t gone to work for like three days now, Mariah would be pissed and Henry was still out of the states.

So going to work now, ant he had a lot of work to do and a lot of scolding to swallow down.