Page 7 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Haven

Times New Roman has never looked this terrifying.

FINANCIAL

RESPONSIBILITY

AGREEMENT

The smaller the print gets, the more horrified I become.

…agree to accept full financial responsibility…

…legally bound to pay all fees…

…failure to pay…

…signature of financially responsible party…

But the most gut-wrenching part of all is right under that.

The slot where my dad’s social security number and signature go.

I slump back in my cushioned seat and turn to stare out the tall, narrow-paned window beside me.

I scored an amazing window seat in the library that overlooks another part of the college’s sprawling estate.

There’s a stretch of lawn dappled with shade from a trio of ancient oak trees.

The handful of students who chose this spot are seated at one of the concrete benches, or sitting on the grass.

One of them is even taking a nap under a tree.

Fuck. Why can’t I just enjoy this shit like that girl listening to music as she pages through a dense textbook and works her way through a bag of chips? Or the couple making out? I’d even swap places with the guy under the tree.

Instead, I have this form burning a hole in my head, and I keep having to look over my shoulder to make sure Kai doesn’t jump out of a bush and attack me.

I get it. I fucked up. But calling me names is just stupid and childish.

Which I’ll be sure to tell him the next time he’s choking me.

My life is such bullshit.

The willowy thirty-something librarian told me they didn’t have any spare copies of the textbooks listed in Professor Rooke’s coursework.

There was a copy of The Lucifer Effect that should have been returned already, but it’s two days late.

Then, the lovely Simone happily informed me that the books I needed for my other classes were available, and she’d find them for me while I waited.

Yay for that, I guess. And who knows? Maybe the idiot who forgot to return their books will get their shit together soon.

I’m one to talk.

Thankfully, I only have my Introduction to Social Work class left today. It’s barely noon, but I’m already exhausted. And I have a shift at the diner tonight, so yay for that too.

How dangerous could napping be?

I’m still staring wistfully out the window when a loud thump makes me jump in my seat. Simone gives me an apologetic smile when I spin around to stare at her in surprise.

“Do you have a trolley or something?” she teases, flipping her blond ponytail over her shoulder.

I stare at the stack of six books, each at least an inch thick. “Woof. ”

She widens her eyes, nodding. “Exactly, yeah. Woof.” She lifts her arm, making her skinny bicep pop through the thin fabric of her sweater. “Great workout.”

There’s no way I’m carrying all those books around with me. I groan as I realize I’ll have to take them to my car.

The parking lot is a few minutes’ walk from the college.

Just a large area of cleared land beside a row of pine trees.

My sneakers crunch loudly over the gravel as I carry the books to my parked car.

I guess a lot of students and faculty members take the shuttle from town, because there’s only a couple dozen cars parked out here.

The ones that are, though?

There’s a reason I parked right at the end of the lot, partially obscured behind a massive boulder someone left right the fuck where it lay. The contrast between my dented white clunker and the gleaming Audis, Land Rovers, Mercs, and Escalades was just pitiful.

Especially the sleek black Tesla parked next to my Toyota. I couldn’t help but admire it this morning, and my curiosity still hasn’t faded. The tinted windows make it hard to see inside, but I’m sure those are red leather seats.

I wrestle my car keys out of my pocket, arm shaking under the weight of all six books. Simone wasn’t kidding about getting a workout.

Predictably, I can’t juggle everything as I try to unlock the trunk.

Inevitably, everything goes flying.

My head falls back as I groan in frustration. I’m in half a mind to leave everything where it is, get in my car, and take that fucking nap.

“Things seem to be going well for you today, Miss Lee. Did you walk under a ladder recently?” A deep, silky voice inquires behind me.

I shoot to my feet, spinning around so fast I nearly lose my balance and land on my face. What is it about my body going into autopilot when I’m around Professor Rooke? And if it’s going to do that, could it at least try to stay vertical?

Gravel crunches as he walks up to me. As soon as I realize he’s going to help me pick up the things I’ve dropped, I’m on my knees to collect them, like I’ve suddenly become weirdly competitive.

He crouches beside me anyway, picking up more than me because I drop half the stuff I pick up.

“You don’t need to do that. I shouldn’t have been carrying so many. That’s why I came to dump them in the car. Can’t be lugging around a hundred books?—“

My teeth click closed, shutting off the blathering. Don’t even know how I’m managing it with such a dry mouth.

When Professor Rooke reaches for the financial responsibility form that fluttered further away than the rest, I scramble up to grab it before he can. But he’s closer, and already holding it by the time I latch on.

He smiles ruefully when I try to tug it out of his fingers, so I whip my hand away with spiteful ferocity.

His warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he turns the page over to read it.

With his attention diverted, I can study him outside of the confines of his lecture hall.

The noon sun gleams in his black hair, tinting even more of it silver.

But despite his graying hair and the deep frown lines on his brow, I’d say he’s in his mid to late thirties.

It’s downright evil how handsome he looks with his tweed jacket slung over his arm, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up surprisingly toned—and surprisingly pale—arms, a trail of dark hairs disappearing under the fabric.

“Black cats can be trouble too,” he muses, as if to himself. “I’d avoid them if at all possible.”

“No ladders. No cats. Got it.” I puff a strand of hair out of my face when it tickles my nose. “But I’m kinda leaning more toward a curse.”

“A curse?” He watches me intently, and I don’t know why, but that makes me want to keep blabbing.

Maybe because it seems like he’s actually interested in what I have to say.

Not sure why the hell someone like Professor Rooke would even bother asking me the time of day, but maybe he’s like this with all his grant students .

AKA, charity cases.

Ugh, of course he’s not interested in me. He simply wants to revel in philanthropic bliss.

“Mirrors are seven years bad luck, ladders probably only a week or two, right? I’ve had this generalized kind of bad luck for the past, oh, I don’t know, my entire life?” I nod definitively. “A witch is definitely involved.”

I hear him take a breath through his nose as he widens his eyes, like he can’t believe he’s standing here listening to my garbage thoughts. He carefully lays the form down on the pile in my arms and turns to his Tesla. It unlocks with an eerily dystopian chime.

“I hope you will be more prepared tomorrow, Miss Lee.” He opens the door, turning back to me as he puts his leg inside.

It has a red leather interior. Dark, like wine.

I never thought an electric car could look so sexy, but I’m pretty sure it’s less about the interior and more about the man about to climb in.

He’s so trim. So calm and put together. Total opposite of hot-head Kai and his scorching glares.

What would it take to make this man unravel?

Oh God, he said something to me and I wasn’t listening.

Again.

“What?”

He looks away, shaking his head as he lowers himself into the driver’s seat. I swear I hear him speak again as he closes the door, but it had to have been my imagination.

No teacher in his right mind would say something like that, right?

…fuck, I love a hot mess…

Unless Professor Rooke’s not in his right mind.