Page 10 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rooke asks as he sits on the edge of the desk, his hands clasped and dangling between his thighs.
I could tell him what had just happened.
I should .
What Kai just did was aggressive, and violent, and…confusing as fuck.
Then there’s the way Professor Rooke is staring at me. With this kind of fascination.
I guess he finds people interesting. Why else would he teach a class like this? But it makes me uneasy, because I don’t know if he sent Kai out of the room so I could be more open with him…or so that he could be alone with me.
If it’s true and I’m not just losing my mind, it kinda takes the sting out of what just happened.
This man? Interested in me?
Besides, I’m not about to get Kai into trouble until I get a handle on this situation. If he’s mad because I left Agony Hollow, then he’s pathetic. I had no control over that.
He must be having problems at home.
I remember all the times he’d arrive at the creek with bruises on his arms or legs. I never asked him about them—and I probably should have—but I was a kid, and we were there to play and have fun and forget about the bad things, not wallow in them.
Maybe that’s why he never told me stuff either. He was just as willing to play pretend the whole afternoon long.
If it’s not that, then all I can think is that after being in Hillside for years, and with me technically a Riversider, he’s finally bought into all that elitist bullshit this place is so notorious for.
Kai’s simply decided I’m not worthy of being here, and he’s going to make my life a living hell.
“You look shaken,” Professor Rooke prompts.
“The curse strikes again,” I shrug, holding up my hands and smiling ruefully. “I’ll have to go to that crystal lady’s shop in town and get some smudge sticks or something.”
My professor doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. But I guess he dismisses whatever concerns he had about what he did or didn’t see, because he changes the subject.
“Did you have questions about the coursework?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Pretty self-explanatory.”
“Then you understand how to complete your Activity Log?”
I open my mouth, trying to figure out how to word my response, and his eyes drop to my lips. It’s so brief, I might have imagined it, had I not felt a sudden tingle on my skin.
“Like, I guess, I just don’t know how…petty I should be?”
“Petty,” he repeats woodenly.
“Like…” I groan softly. “I know you’re probably going to say that’s part of defining cruelty or whatever, but is a bird pooping on my car being cruel?”
There’s a glimmer in his brown eyes when he shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it?”
I give a slow nod. “Okay. So…I’m gonna have to figure it out as I go along, that kind of thing?”
“Now you’re getting it,” he says. “Google if you get stuck. That’s how your generation handles the tough stuff, right?”
I blink at him. “Um…I’m picking up some vibes here.”
“Or maybe you’re just too sensitive.”
What the fuck?
Nothing has changed on his face. He’s looking back at me with the same resting-teach face he wears so often. Polite focus with just a touch of contempt.
But there was nothing polite in what he just said. It’s hard to think this is the same man I met in the car park .
“Any further questions, Miss Lee?”
I want to say no, but after my conversation with the librarian yesterday, I’m out of options.
“One more.” I wince. “I’m struggling to hunt down the textbooks I need. The shop in town is sold out, and the library doesn’t have a spare copy. You don’t maybe know?—?”
He tilts his head, leaning back a bit. “Is there a reason you left everything to the last minute like this, or do you think ‘disorganized procrastinator’ would look good on your LinkedIn profile?”
Woof.
Angry Professor is smoking hot, especially when he’s dissing me like a boss. Maybe it’s the condescending look in his eyes that makes me want to prove I’m so much better than this.
Like, in any way he wants me to.
My insides are shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s from residual fear or something else.
I lick my lips, and take turns tugging my cardigan down my wrists. There’s a touch of red on my skin, just beneath the curve at the bottom of my thumb. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a mark on my forehead too.
I yank the cardigan’s sleeves down far enough that I can grip them in my fist, and when I glance up, Professor Rooke’s gaze is sliding from my throat to my collarbone, to my shoulder where I’ve exposed my skin.
Is the AC on the fritz? It’s fucking hot in here.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Things have been a bit…rough lately.”
“My classroom isn’t a confession booth, Miss Lee. I won’t forgive you every time you throw a vague apology my way.”
He crosses his arms, drawing my gaze back to him. It feels like staring down a tiger when our eyes meet, but just like that tiger, I don’t dare look away, in case he pounces.
“I don’t know what things were like at Ashwood High, but this isn’t community college. Our students are dedicated. They give this school everything they have, and in return, we give them what they need to make a success of their lives.”
He pushes away from the desk so suddenly that I don’t have time to get out of the way, putting our bodies less than an inch away from each other. My neck cranes to look up at him as he towers over me.
“ Quid pro quo , Miss Lee. Understood?”
“Yes,” I murmur, a flush creeping up my neck at his proximity. But I’m locked in place, because I just caught his scent, and it’s doing infernal things to my body.
Leather, maybe from his car seats, dryer sheets, and an earthy, piney, musky undertone that must be his cologne or body wash.
And here I’m desperately hoping I smell like lemon-scented furniture polish instead of BO.
“Then we have an agreement.” His voice is so low his lips are barely moving. I find my eyes drawn to them, and I can’t look away, even though I know he’s noticed, even though I know it’s wrong as fuck.
“I’ll teach you how to become a better human, and you’ll be grateful for the privilege.”
It’s way too fucking close to what Kai said.
Way too fucking close.
But I’m all out of options.
I’m always out of fucking options.