Page 24 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Haven

As I’m driving out of AHC’s parking lot, the loud ping on my phone has my head swiveling down like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Instead of watching the road, I nearly mow down Melissa with my car.

My car skids on the gravel. Melissa turns to stare at me, her hair taking a moment to stop moving. Then she points a long fingernail, her shoes crunching over the gravel as she walks to my door.

I reluctantly roll down my window. “I almost killed you.”

“Good thing you didn’t. We have an assignment.”

“What?”

She flicks her hand, briefly glancing away with pursed lips. “Got distracted by my ex’s DMs. Fucking man child.” She grimaces faintly. “Everyone else has paired up. Only us two left. Could be worse, right?” She ducks her head and stares into my car.

I try not to wither into a husk, because I know it looks like shit in here.

“You can drive with me,” she decides.

Why is everyone trying to get me into a car with them today? Do I have a ‘kidnap me’ sign taped to my back or something?

“Drive where?”

She rolls her eyes. “Gamma Alpha Zeta. My sorority? Food. Booze. Clean restrooms.” The last seems most important. If she even knew the restrooms I’ve had to use…

“What about the library?”

“The lighting gives me a migraine.”

“Well, I can’t now. I have work.”

“Like, studying? Do it after.”

I blink at the bossiness in her tone, but I get the feeling it’s just part of her personality.

“I have work work. Like at a diner. Like, employee, boss, job?”

“Work,” Melissa repeats, like the word is a foreign concept…which it probably is. “Oh.” She draws back from my window like being employed is contagious, and she hasn’t had her shots yet.

“Sorry.” I shrug.

“I wanted to get this done ASAP. But I guess tomorrow will do.”

“I have work. Tonight and tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday.”

“I work weekends too.”

She straightens, looks away, but I hear a quiet, “For fuck’s sake.”

Then she ducks down again. “I’m not failing because you’re working. Call in sick.”

I stare at her, because it hits me then what a privileged life Melissa Parker must have led. She’s got to know that I work for tips, right? That I don’t get paid unless I’m there…to earn those tips.

But then I think about Kai waiting for me outside the diner.

I can afford to miss one shift if I work a double on Sunday. That’ll mean cramming in more study time during the week, but it’s not like I have anything better to do.

“Let’s get it done. I can find someone to fill my shift.”

“Good.” Melissa starts walking, pointing to the other side of the lot. “I’m in the Aston.”

Melissa’s white Aston Martin is gorgeous, sleek, and almost too perfect. Just like her. I want to hate her for it, but she’s so methodical about how she treats her things, I believe she respects her possessions.

Somehow, that makes it okay. Like she’s allowed to be this filthy rich because she doesn’t take things for granted.

Guess Kai’s imagination rubbed off on me.

But in the five minutes walk to the GAZ house, I realize she’s just as ridiculously entitled as I first thought.

I stare up at the double-story building, then glance over my shoulder where the roof of AHC is still visible through the trees.

“Is it that you don’t like walking, or…?”

“Paving ruins my shoes,” she says. “And don’t get me started on dogshit.”

It’s the most enthusiastic I’ve ever heard her.

Talking about dog shit.

Wow.

Explains why she has this slightly disgusted look on her face most of the time. But like she said, we’re stuck with each other.

A girl rushes past us out of the front door as we come inside, cordless headphones clapped to her ears and an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.

When she sees Melissa, she snatches the smoke from her lips. “Tiffany’s home!” she hisses, throwing an apprehensive glance over her shoulder before speed-walking down the street.

“Tiffany?” I ask.

“House mother. Despises smoking and vaping.” Melissa’s arm props up, her laptop bag swinging from the crook of her elbow. “Come on. The sooner we’re done, the better.”

I try hard to convince myself she’s not in a hurry because she wants to be rid of me .

I fail.

We walk through tall columns connecting the lower porch with the roof of the red-bricked sorority house. White trim on the windows and front door, and large Greek letters in white give the building a polished, almost regal vibe.

“Let’s go to my room,” she says, pointing to the staircase sweeping up to the first floor.

I glance around as we pass through, spotting a pair of girls seated on the floor beside a coffee table near an enormous fireplace.

They’re busy giggling and sharing a bowl of popcorn as they peek at each other’s phones.

Melissa leads me down a hall and through one of the many white-painted doors on this floor.

There are two beds, each dressed in pretty quilts and matching pillowcases.

There’s a unicorn plushie on one bed, but Melissa heads for the other side of the room, setting her laptop bag down at the foot of a floral-quilted bed.

“ Domus mea, domus tua ,” she says.

“ Gesundheit .”

“My house is your house. In Latin. Because we’re a Greek sorority?” When I just keep staring at her, she rolls her eyes. “Wine or beer or shots?”

I laugh, but now she’s just staring at me, waiting. “Uh…soda?”

She chuckles dryly. “Right. ‘Cos it’s so bad for us.”

When she realizes I’m being serious, she murmurs, “Great. I get stuck with the prude.”

She sighs as she struts away.

Am I the only student around here who doesn’t drink like it’s an Olympic sport?

I perch on the edge of the quilted bed, scanning the room.

Gun to my head, I’d pick Basti— Professor Rooke’s—Fortress of Solitude to this hellscape. There’s a pattern on everything. The wallpaper, the carpet, the quilted bedspreads.

Why is there a rug on top of the carpet?

Was the carpet not thick enough? Warm enough? Colorful enough ?

I remember I have an unread message and pull my phone out to check.

@rooke.bastian

Thank you for your submission.

Mercy, how fucking professional of him.

I’m sneering as I shove the phone back in my tote bag.

Why wouldn’t he be professional, Haven? He’s your teacher, for heaven’s sake.

Because he spiked my cocoa?

Because when he pressed that book against my chest, his fingers lingered as if he was imagining pressing me against something else?

Because he’s so fucking gorgeous that all I can think about when I’m with him is what it would feel like to have those strong hands spreading my thighs?

Because I’m nineteen and stupid and broken…and he knows it?

I take my phone out again, stare at the message.

Hesitate.

I should apologize. He went out of his way for me today, and I acted like a total brat.

I spend minutes agonizing about what I should say before finally typing out a message. Then another. And another.

@bastian.rooke

Thank you for your submission.

@lee.haven

Sorry for being difficult today.

Thx for the book.

And thx for the cocoa.

Not used to stuff like that.

I pause, because I’m not sure if I’m referring to his kindness or the alcohol. But I leave it as is, and type another two messages.

Promise I won’t put up such a fight next time.

If there is a next time?

I nearly delete the last message, but then Melissa walks back into the room with a tray and I tap send before I pussy out.

“We’ll sit on the floor. I don’t want ants in the bed.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Grab those cushions.” She points with her chin as she squats to set the tray down on the patterned rug. I grab two scatter cushions from her bed and hand her one as I come to sit in front of her.

There’s a can of orange soda, a can of diet cola, and three bowls of snacks on the tray. Oreos, pretzels, and popcorn.

“Thanks,” I say, grabbing an Oreo before I can second-guess myself.

“Right. Let’s see what fresh hell our dark daddy has cooked up for us.”

I giggle at that, and she flashes another one of her micro-smiles as she fetches her envelope out of her laptop bag. Must be university stationery because there’s a small AHC logo stamped near one corner.

“Oh, I got one too.”

She waves a hand. “Probably the same.” Then her eyes go wide. “But we’ll check after. Because Rooke, right? Fuuuck.” She draws out the word into a groan.

I frown at her. “Okay, what am I missing?”

She shrugs as she tears open her envelope, dropping her voice low. “That he’s fucked in the head, but so smart and good looking, no one cares?”

I laugh, but the sound is uneasy.

“Ugh, this is going to take long.” She shakes out the folded paper. “Cruel Consequences.” Rolls her eyes. “He’s so melodramatic. If he wasn’t so hot, I’d be annoyed.”

She sounds annoyed to me, but maybe she’s just peeved .

She scans the page, grabbing a pretzel to nibble on while I try not to die of curiosity. Thankfully, she’s a fast reader.

“Oh, okay. So it’s like a twist on Truth or Dare. We can knock this out in an hour.” She hands me the paper and then upends the envelope on her palm. A set of laminated cards fall out, bound with a red elastic band, slips of paper, and a red sticker.

I skim the instructions.

We roll a die—not included, thanks Professor—to see who starts. Then we draw a card and have to decide to enact a Cruelty on our partner, or suffer the Consequence. Then we move to the next card and repeat the process.

If either of us refuses to complete a card, we both fail.

If we don’t turn in a video of us completing the cards, we both fail.

And finally, if we don’t have fun with it , we both fail.

“We have to record this?”

“It’s that or doing it in front of the class,” Melissa says, already glancing around for a place to set up her phone.

I don’t know what this is, but she’s right. We’re not exactly BFFs or anything, but at least we’ve said a few words to each other. Standing up in front of a class full of strangers would have been terrifying.

And then there’s Kai, of course…

And Professor Rooke.

“Yeah, this is much better.”