Page 61 of Fractured Fates

I close my eyes and concentrate on that sensation, bringing all my attention to focus on it. Is it real? Is this how it’s meant to feel?

I flick open my eyelids and stare in the mirror.

A group of students hover by the door, looking nervous and conspicuous as hell. If it weren’t for me and my influence, most of the students at Arrow Hart would never get served here. But the cops are never going to raid this place, not when they know this is the favorite spot of kids like me, Spencer and Summer.

I examine the group. There’s that new boy who transferred here last term, some boys from the athletics team, that tall kid with the black hair and, yeah, her. Pig girl.

For a moment my breath catches in my throat, until I huff it away in annoyance. Because she looks different tonight. Not dressed in the ridiculously sexed-up excuse for a uniform and not drowning in an oversized hoodie. No, she’s wearing a little black dress. One that hugs every inch of her lithe body, emphasizing her tiny waist, her full tits and her rounded hips. Her black hair falls in waves over her shoulders and her lips are painted blood red.

If she’d come looking like that to the common room last night, things would have gone a hell of a lot differently.

I watch as the group looks around the bar searching for a table, and she leans in to talk to her friend, her eyes alive with excitement.

Then her gaze sweeps the bar again, and she spots me leaning against the bar. With my back to her, she can’t see that I’m watching her. But I am. I watch as her lips part slightly, her tongue sliding over her white teeth, how she trails one hand up her bare arm, her skin peppered with goosebumps.

She may look good, but she also looks damn awkward. Especially when she follows the others across the bar to a table in the corner, wobbling on her too-high heels like any minute she’s going to fall.

Which gives me the idea. I don’t know why I do it. Except that I’m irritated. Irritated and bored and her presence is both interesting and an annoyance.

And so I lower my arm down to my side, and twist my hand around, then silently I send a gust of wind rolling her way, silently, deceptively, so that no one else feels it or hears it.

The gust hits her and for a moment, she waivers, her body swaying one way, then another, before she loses her balance and I topple my tree.

She yelps as she falls, landing unspectacularly on her ass and flashing half the school her little black panties.

There’s a shocked squeal from her friend as well as a few peals of laughter from those close by and then people are pushing and fighting to see what’s happened, several people lifting up their phones to take pictures as a roar of laughter sweeps through the bar.

She snaps her head over her shoulder, peering my way, looking for the culprit. Her gaze locks with mine in the mirror. I stare back at her blankly. No guilty look of admission, no smirk of triumph.

The Andrew dude reaches down to help her up and I don’t like the way his hand curls around her waist, squeezing her there.

Yeah, I don’t like that at all.

I down the rest of my whisky and slam the empty glass onto the bar top, then I turn and march back to my group. Finding the first girl I bump into, I grab her wrist and lead her onto the dance floor. She’s so fucking excited she doesn’t know what to do with herself, her hands all over me as she giggles uncontrollably. I’m guessing I haven’t slept with this one before. I don’t even remember her name.

I grab her ass, and pull her tight against my body, letting her grind up against my cock while I try not to think about that flash of black panties. About Andrew’s hands. About why the hell I’m thinking about either of those things.

I’m half hard and it’s making the girl even more wound up thinking it’s for her.

“Want to go back to my room?” she hiccups.

“Not really,” I tell her flatly.

“Oh.” A pause as the tiny cogs in her tiny mind whirl. “We can go back to yours if you want, or the … or the bathroom?”

“I’ll pass,” I say, unhooking her arms from around my neck and walking away. I don’t know where I’m going as I walk through the bar. Except I do know. Going for another peek. Going to check up on her. Disappearing into the shadows, I watch the pig girl from afar.

She sits sandwiched between Andrew and her roommate, two bottles of beer lined up in front of her. She shouldn’t be drinking. She’s tiny. One drink and she’ll be flat on her ass again or face down in the gutter. It’s probably what Andrew has planned. I see how he takes every fucking opportunity to touch her. I also see she doesn’t return those touches, and observe how she’s enraptured by both her friends and yet her eyes keep darting around the bar. Like she’s restless. Restless like me.

I have to talk to her again

I pull out my phone and type her a message.

I need to talk to you. Outside now.

The message sends. She reaches down into her purse and scoops out her ancient-looking phone, pressing the buttons like she doesn’t know how to use the thing. Eventually, her friend helps her and they read my message, whispering to each other. They’re clearly discussing what to do.

I message her again, my patience waning.