Page 47 of Lessons in Cruelty

I’ve barely slept this week. The few times I drifted off, the smallest sound would jolt me awake. Or my mind would summon a snapshot of Kai’s face. Either would be enough of a jump scare to send my heart racing.

I’m still trying to process what the fuck happened in the library on Tuesday.

No. I know what happened.

What it means.

If there was ever any doubt, it’s long gone now.

I burned my bridges while my best friend was still on the other side.

Kai Jordan despises me. He will not stop until I’m gone. Which is so fucked up, because if anyone should be angry, it’s me. He’s the one who broke a promise. He’s the one who chickened out like a loser.

But his hate is real, and it’s fucking terrifying.

But the more I replay the memory, the intensity in his eyes takes on a different meaning.

Not anger.

Lust.

Like how my fear transformed into confusion, curiosity…then something else.

I sucked Kai’s dick…and I liked it.

That sentence sets my mind on fire, but I’m obviously a sucker for punishment because I keep replaying it.

Especially the last part.

My underwear was so soaked when I got back to my car, I didn’t want to sit down in case it would get on the seat. But just like I sucked his dick when I didn’t want to, I sat down when I didn’t want to, and I tore out of AHC’s parking lot like a fallen angel fleeing heaven.

It took me a day to gather myself, but I managed to summon up the courage to face Kai’s wrath again.

Or maybe it’s his wrath I’m after.

I always knew he was better than me. The way he kept his shit together, even when I knew he had it worse. How he’d be brave, and strong, and proud all the time, and I was pathetic and weak and ashamed.

All. The. Time.

Except when he made me smile, or laugh.

I lived for our time together. I’d squeeze my hands into tiny fists and wish for the second hand of the clock to stream around and around in a blur.

Just so I could be with him again.

So, yeah, maybe that’s why I’m in the one place I shouldn’t be.

If Kai truly hates me as much as he says, then there’s no way we’ll ever be together.

Which means I don’t have to apologize for falling in love with him.

I glance at the clock on my car’s dashboard. Professor Rooke’s class starts in thirty minutes.

I already missed Tuesday’s class. If I miss this one, I’m out.

Yet here I am, unable to convince myself to open the car door and step outside. This dented-up sedan is my fort.

Outside, bad. Inside, good. Or at least, safe.