Chapter 167

After a long debate, Natalie settled on what to say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Like usual, with Camille, it seemed the safest option.

Camille narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what I’m talking about,” she repeated flatly. “Really. When you were the one to suggest it.”

“I definitely didn’t.” Camille had invented that whole misunderstanding herself. Natalie had certainly never told the woman to go use her plant magic to fuck herself.

That whole idea was still flustering Natalie. Had she, actually?

Again, Camille scrutinized her. Coming to some conclusion, she crossed her arms, seeming displeased.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m tired of this.”

“This?” Natalie repeated dumbly.

“You’re, like, a womanizer to everyone else on campus, but I’ve been throwing myself at you for two weeks, and I just get ignored. Do you know what that does to a girl’s self-esteem?”

Natalie paused. Despite the words, she doubted Camille was facing any insecurities over her deflections—how she had been shying away from her constant teasing. Camille knew why Natalie was playing it carefully. Or did she? That was the whole problem. Camille was the only one of them to know for sure.

“What?” Natalie repeated.

At the continued deflection, Camille growled. She took a step forward and jabbed a finger into her chest. “Okay, fine. I’ll say it. I saw you in the bathroom, jerking off to an illusion of Tess, that third-year magic tutor of yours.”

Natalie’s stomach sank. She frantically looked around, but thankfully, nobody was paying attention to her and Camille. She grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her away to a more private part of the courtyard. As they walked, Natalie hissed, “Keep it down, won’t you? Seriously? And, so, that was you?”

“Oh, come on. I made it extremely obvious. You can’t be that dense.”

She wasn’t being dense; she was just playing it carefully. But, yeah, whatever—Natalie hadn’t ever been that convinced otherwise. Especially with how often Camille had been teasing her about it.

“Okay, so, why are you spying on people in the restroom?” Natalie accused. “What’s up with that?”

Camille paused, then grimaced. She pushed an errant strand of her hair out of her face, looking regretful. “Yeah. Uh, sorry about that. That was kind of fucked up. I mean, you did run in there all red-faced and flustered, and then I came in and heard you grunting and making a bunch of ridiculous noises—and saw another pair of feet in the stall, which didn’t make sense, since you went in alone. So I was curious, but—” she shook her head. “But yeah, not cool, either way. That said, you’re the one making illusions of your magic tutor and masturbating to them. I’m assuming you didn’t get her permission for that. That’s pretty messed up in its own right.”

Which was a fair point; maybe they were both perverts. Natalie could concede that. Though Camille’s invasion had definitely been worse. Tess had just been an illusion. Masturbation with extra steps. Though probably still a bit of a violation, considering how realistic it had been.

Either way, relief was oddly starting to wash through Natalie. Embarrassing as this was, she was glad she knew for certain. Seeing how Camille had kept that event on the down-low—or at least, never said so outright—it relieved Natalie that it hadn’t been some other spy who had seen that horrifying lapse of judgment. Natalie didn’t think Camille was going to go around and tell anyone, by this point. So she was safe. Sort of.

“So, what do you want?” Natalie asked.

Camille paused, then stared at her, her expression shifting slowly from her previous regretfulness, into incredulity, then nearly to anger. Natalie took an instinctive step back.