Page 26 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Her eyes go wide. “Do I need to find a marker?”

“Jeez, fine! It was this spur-of-the-moment thing between classes, okay? We were talking, things got heated. He pulled out his…dick and told me to suck it. So I did.”

Melissa giggles like a demon. “And then?”

“And then what?”

She lifts her shoulders. “Did he come? Did you swallow? Was it good? Are you two getting married now?” She’s giggling so much I can barely hear what she’s saying, but her laughter—and her brashness—is infectious.

“Yes, yes, hell yes, and fuck no.”

We collapse into gales of laughter, Melissa slapping at me and calling me a horny slut.

When we finally gather ourselves, Melissa’s wiping tears from her eyes, streaking her mascara, and I’m pressing the back of my hands against my cheeks, trying to cool them down.

“Okay, okay.” I blow out a breath. “Next round.”

Melissa wins, draws a card, and takes a slow pull of air through pursed lips.

That’s when I know it’s bad.

“Listen, Haven,” she says, looking up as she pats her fingertip under one eye to wipe away her mascara. “We had a good run, but?—”

“Come on,” I mutter, snatching the card out of her hand.

I stare at it. Then at her.

She shrugs. “Like…it’s just not gonna happen, you know?”

I sigh, the sound interrupted by a slightly terrified giggle. “Yeah, I know.”

“Wait, wait!” She pours us each a shot of tequila and holds it out for a toast. “To retaining our sanity this semester.”

We clink our glasses, my expression as serious as hers, and then I slowly lean forward until I’m on my knees.

I feel like I’m waiting for a bullet to the back of my head.

Melissa watches me, tapping her nail against the laminated card as she thinks. “Okay, okay.” She picks up my phone, aims it at me, and says, “Father forgive me, for I have sinned.”

I cringe. “Really? You’re bringing religion into this? ”

She slashes out a hand. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have slept with one of my teachers?—”

I scramble up so fast, the room spins.

“No way!” I point at her. “No fucking way.”

“The whole point of this game is that you don’t get to decide how cruel I can be.”

“Melissa, no. I’m not saying that.”

“It’s a lie,” she groans. “It even says so on the card thingy.”

“Yeah? But you have to post it somewhere public.”

“I’ll hashtag it.” She smiles like a fucking shark. “Hashtag lies. Hashtag bullcrap. Hashtag?—”

“I could get expelled.”

“What? Oh, please.” She waves a hand, dropping my phone so she can stare at me. “Students fuck faculty all the time. As long as it’s not blatant that you got better grades because of it, and you don’t rub it in the dean’s face, no one gives a shit.”

She lifts my phone again. “We’re all adults here.” Her giggle is pure evil.

“Come up with something else.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine you fucking drama queen.” She glances away and then focuses my phone on me again. “Okay, okay. Say you’ve stolen something.”

“Like what?”

“Like…someone’s wallet.”

My arms constrict even tighter around my chest. “Fuck off.”

“Seriously?”

I look away, fuming. “Delete your socials,” I tell her.

“You can’t make me suffer a consequence.”

“Well, I’m not letting you be cruel to me, either.”

Melissa scoffs, then looks taken aback when I just keep staring at her. “Haven, come on. I’m not deleting my accounts. They’re…” she swallows. “I network with them and stuff.” Her chin lifts. “You wouldn’t understand. I mean, you have like a total of five messages on your phone. Li ke, ever.”

“It’s a new phone,” I grate.

Melissa looks away, and then her shoulders slump. “Wow.”

“What?”

She’s shaking her head. “I guess those weren’t rumors,” she whispers, going over to her phone to press pause.

When she looks at me over her shoulder, there’s a crease of concern between her brows. “Is it the tequila, or is this starting to feel like some kind of fucked up experiment?”

I shake off my irritation and nod at her. “Yeah, shit. That went from zero to a hundred in sixty seconds.” I drop my head, rub my eyelids, wave her over. “You’re right, I’m being a drama queen. I’ll say the thing about stealing the wallet.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” she says, then switches the camera to selfie mode. “Hey, Professor, so I can’t exactly film this since it’s happening on my phone, but I’ll do a screenshot for you and include it in the submission.”

“Melissa?” I push to my feet. “What are you doing?”

She shrugs, but her eyes are on her phone. “I don’t even mind. Hardly go in this account anymore because of Man-Child’s DMs.” She snorts. “Jesus, forty-seven. And I checked this like two days ago. Can you believe this shit?”

Her nails tap against the glass as she busies herself on her phone, then she sets it up on the dresser again.

“Right, last round. You ready, Haven?”

“You seriously just deleted your account?”

She shrugs. “About time for a detox.”

I win the next round of rock, paper, scissors, but I don’t feel happy about it. My stomach is churning so much, it’s turned everything inside into tequila-and-oreo flavored butter.

“Aw, fuck,” I mutter when I read the last card. “This is bullshit.”

Melissa sits up prim and proper, watching me with glassy eyes. “That bad, huh?”

I blow out a breath, then glance at the two slips of papers and the sticker that fell out earlier when Melissa upended the envelope .

Why does it feel like that happened a fucking century ago?

Wild Card

Write down a secret your partner hides from others.

Seal it inside the envelope without letting them see.

You may not discuss this card.

The person who reveals the weakest secret will fail this round.

Both participants must play this round or forfeit the entire game.

“Shit,” Melissa mutters, and then glances up at me. There’s still a tiny smudge of mascara under one eye. “Forfeit, as in failing his class.”

“But what the hell does failing this round mean?”

She shrugs. “I mean, I doubt he could actually kick someone out of his class. But our grades are totally in his control.” She rolls her eyes, sighing.

“Should’ve sent him that titty shot. Maybe I still can.

Soften the blow.” Her eyes fly open as she starts unbuttoning her shirt.

“Will you help me take a good pic? I can never get the angle right.”

I wave at her to stop. “No one’s sending nude photos. We got this.”

I try to sound chipper, but I’m dying inside. We barely know each other…but I know she had a disastrous breakup and calls her ex a man-child. Is that a secret, though? And worse than whatever she can figure out about me?

“You’re right.” She stands to fetch two pens out of her laptop bag and hands me one. “So what are you thinking? Are we going nuclear, or just airing some dirty laundry?”

“We can’t discuss it,” I mumble, glancing over at her phone.

“Damn it.” She taps her pen against the piece of paper as she takes her seat in front of me again. “Okay, but for the record, this is super unfair. You’re obviously a fucking angel, and I’ve given you more than enough ammunition to win. ”

She scrawls something on her paper and folds it, quickly slipping it into the envelope.

God. I don’t want to fail.

I guess there’s no way Professor Rooke will be able to fact check all these entries, right? It’s probably more about the intent behind this round than the actual impact.

That’s what I tell myself as I gather at the only flimsy straw I have and write down something that’s probably an utter lie.

Sent nude pics to a teacher.

I mean, she must have done it once before, right?

I fold the paper and put it in the envelope. She seals it with the sticker and swipes her hand over the seal.

“You should stay for dinner.”

My lips purse as I glance up at her. “Um…okay. If you still want me to.”

“Yeah.” She frowns a little like she’s reached a unanimous decision. “This could just be the tequila, but you’re not half bad.”

I laugh. “I’d suggest you do a sanity check in the morning. Make sure it’s not the trauma bonding talking.”

“I mean it. You’re…different.”

“Because I don’t make small talk about designer shoes and spending summers in the Hamptons?” I mutter, tensing. If she’s just setting me up for another round of Cruel Consequences, then I’m not falling for it.

“And thank fuck for that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care if you know what fork to use.”

I shrug. “I prefer eating with my hands.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me like she’s not sure if I’m making a joke.

I sigh, reluctantly letting up. Guess not everyone’s out to get me all the fucking time, right ?

“What I do know,” I say, raising a finger, “is which stores check for ID.”

Only because Dad or Uncle Lenny would send me to the store to buy them booze when they were too trashed to do it themselves, but Melissa doesn’t have to know that.

No one does. Ever.

Melissa nods enthusiastically. “See? Perfect is boring. I’ve had boring all my life. You’re real , Haven.” She shrugs, curling her fingers to check her nails. “Plus, you have that whole ‘save me’ vibe. Guaranteed drama. I fucking love drama.”

I blink at her. “Fuck you.”

She throws her head back and cackles.