Page 51 of Dirty Roulette

Chapter thirty-five

Payton

It took me a hot minute to speed walk to the computer lab.

I use my bottom to push open the door as I pin heavy books to my chest. I’ve collected dust bunnies rotting in the dorm room the past few days.

Lonely has a pretty depressing definition and I’ve met it.

Charlie hasn’t shown up once, she’s ignored my calls and every text I’ve sent.

I figured the mean bitchy ones I sent would have the wheels turning in her head, and she’d have some smart-ass remark but no.

Nothing. After Ryder told me it was over, he’s a stranger too.

So I’m alone, and one more second with only ringing in my ears from the silence is going to cause me to lose it.

I huff looking at the rules written in red expo marker.

First, shut the hell up before coming in.

Second, sign in. My books plop to the counter and I grab the pen attached to a clipboard with a rubber band as a string and sign in.

Next, find one of the obese computers with diabetes.

Rule four, which is my own personal one, hands must stay on the keyboard.

Don’t touch anything underneath the desks.

Trash cans don’t exist, and I’m not about to touch a fresh piece of gum leftovers.

Comic Book guy sits back in his whirling chair, flipping through his Wolverine goodness. His belly button is poking out of his tight shirt, and he digs a finger into it. Brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and he reminds me of that one guy in the Simpsons.

I plop down at a spot in the back of the room and type in my login information, then slip my backpack over my shoulder and drop it to the floor. I’ve lived about a hundred years watching the loading sign spin in circles.

Two linemen stroll in. I recognize them from practice.

When they get closer, Dirty Roulette flashes in my eyes.

It’s one of the Chads. He spins a football wearing a jean jacket and working the natural curls of his hair to pull off the bad boy aura.

His friend is the Alpaca, with a curly mop of hair along neck, and an elongated face.

The guy seems lazy, like he woke up late and dived into the clothes of his dirty hamper.

Chad sits directly next to me, his smile cocky, and his eyelids droop like he’s doped up. He reeks of a bad hangover and musty weed with a hint of aftershave.

Alpaca sits by the computer on the opposite side of mine. They snicker with one another and throw eyebrow cues.

I stare at my phone, debating if I should message someone or bury my feelings in a grave full of thorns. I swallow the hunger to make shit worse and shove the phone in my jean pocket.

“Psst...” One of them says. I turn to Chad next to me, but he clicks the mouse and stares blankly at the computer.

He’s not even logging in. I don’t think he needs the computer.

He looks over in my direction, dips his head back, and says, “Hey girl... what’s up?

” He slides his chair next to me, his arm glides over my shoulder.

“Psst...” I swing my head around and Alpaca rolls his chair right up behind me. “You’re cute...” he says and coils his fingers around a strand of my hair.

“What the hell...” I pull gently on my hair, watching it slide out of his grip and push it behind my back. “Don’t touch me.”

His minty breath burns a hole in my lungs.

“I know you. You’re Charlie’s friend, right?

And you Cheer too, huh?” he asks and pulls out his cell phone.

His thumb scrolls for a quick second and flips the screen to me.

It’s the nudes Brody took of me. Then the video of me kissing Ryder with nothing on.

The feelings enveloping me are equivalent to Carrie getting doused in pig's blood.

“Umm... yeah.” I push the phone away, but the damage was done. A cement block was thrown right on top of me. I shake off Chad’s grip and swivel back to my computer.

“You look pretty damn hot.” He chuckles. I stare at the screen, watching the outline of his actions through the reflection. “I bet I can show you a good time.”

Maybe today wasn’t the day to come out of the dorm room. I stand up, but Chad grabs me by the wrist. He twists me around, and I’m sitting in his lap like a little kid. He smells my hair, and his breath makes my ears sweat. “We hear you like it rough.”

“And you’re pretty easy,” Alpaca whispers. It’s like he slithered his tongue inside my ear and millions of spiders started crawling all over my skin.

The video plays on repeat. Ryder’s hands were all over my breasts, digging fingers in my hair. I lean into Chad’s ear and whisper, “In your dreams.”

The cell slips back into his pocket and I push myself off him with the dirtiest death glare I can stab him with.

Comic Book Guy waddles over with puckered lips. Using a thumb, he ripples through the pages of his comic book and gives them both a raised eyebrow. Chad huffs, his eyes meeting mine, he licks his lips, looking me up and down.

“Let’s go.” Chad huffs, pushing the chair backward and getting up. They both storm out, knocking things off the tables as they leave.

I move to a computer closer to Comic Book Guy and complete several assignments and obnoxious forum posts. I have about fifteen minutes before algebra by the time I am done. I pack and gather my things. When I walk to the door, I check the hallway and watch people fade.

One step out of the door and Chad puts his arms around my shoulder, his fingers coiling a strand of my hair, his nose smelling the top of my skull. “Come on, let me get a taste, I know you wanna fuck...” he says.

“Get the hint!” I scream at him. My books tumble to the ground and I’m spinning myself in some kind of figure-eight position to get his grip off my shoulder and slap him right across the cheek. He grabs my face, and laughs out of his nose.

“Who’s going to stop me?” Chad’s grin widens as if he slit the corners of his mouth. It is wicked and evil and the ugly thoughts perforate off his skin.

“Dude. Come on. I ain’t about to be the next Brody...let’s go,” Alpaca licks his bottom lip and places his palm on Chad’s chest.

“No, they broke up. The Crab ain’t gonna save her.”

My whole body goes numb. Forget my textbooks.

I take my chance and start booking it down the hallway.

It doesn’t take long before Chad chases me and grabs my backpack.

I fall back, crumbling to the floor. The look in his eyes stops me dead in my tracks.

Everything drains out of my body like I’m slowly being injected with Rohypnol all over again from head to toe.

It’s worse than the aftermath of drinking that bottle of tequila.

It’s seeping in that I’m actually scared. No... I’m terrified that someone else wants to hurt me just as much as Brody wanted to hurt Charlie.

Chad grabs my forearm, dragging me up to my feet.

“Stop it!” I push his fingers off my wrist. But he fists my shirt into his palm and pulls me close.

My heart is stuck in my throat as he spins me around and shoves me straight into the wall with my cheeks pressed against the cold bricks.

Hands grab my ass, his body pinning me, and I can’t move an inch.

He’s exploring me and taking a fistful of my breast. “Now I see why the Crab likes you...”

“Bro!” Alpaca throws up his arms.

“Chill out. Bad girls like it rough,” he says as his breath runs down my neck and his groin rubs against my body. “Right? Aren’t you a bad girl?” He’s so close, his fingers are at my collarbone. I tremble. I can smell him again, and he has a lingering touch of getting too high on a Monday morning.

“Hey!” Ryder shouts, jerking Chad’s shoulder back, spinning him around. With a forearm, he pins the fucker against the wall by the neck. “You touch my girl?” Ryder’s eyes are dark, his nostrils flare.

I crumble to the floor and fail when it comes to picking up my textbooks.

A cold chill crawls up my spine and my hands shake.

The books fall out of my grip, pages ripping as I try to compose myself.

I catch Alpaca licking his lips. He holds up his palms taking subtle steps back.

“I’m outta here.” He dashes off in the opposite direction.

Chad’s trembling hands raise up. “I–I was... I ...” He stutters.

Ryder fumes and the vein in his neck bulges with each beat of his heart.

“Huh?” Ryder asks.

“I...”

“I can’t hear you!” Ryder spits out. “Did you touch her? Answer me!”

“S–Sorry... I–I won’t ever do it again!”

Ryder fists his shirt and throws him onto the concrete. “If you or anyone else lays a finger on her again, I’ll end you!” Chad bolts down the hall.

Before Ryder can say two words to me, shadows emerge from around the corner and two police officers come forward with impassive faces and eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

Their black boots squeak against the tile.

I swallow hard, picking up one of the books before it just plops back down onto the floor again.

Their eyes aren’t on me, but on Ryder as one of them speaks through their radio. The other voice is static, crackling as they say some random number codes they use to communicate. The second officer pulls out a pair of handcuffs and Ryder holds up his palms.

“Sebastian Henderson?” One of the officers asks.

“Yep...” Ryder clears his throat and lifts up his chin. His eyes haze over and he doesn’t even meet my gaze. I can’t breathe, and an overbearing sense of helplessness swims in the pit of my stomach.

“You are under arrest for the assault of Brody Thomas. You have the right to remain silent...” The officer says, but his voice fades out as Ryder places both hands on the back of his head when they pin him against the wall.

The sharp click of handcuffs snaps shut, and it’s as if one of the officers shoved the barrel of a gun into my gut as they walk Ryder down the hallway and out the double doors.