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I GROAN INTO MY PILLOW , then roll over and stare at the ceiling.

I fucked Victor.

It happened. It really happened, and instead of being disgusted, I crave him even more. How is that possible? I should despise him, and I do. But there’s also something—some dark kind of energy—that takes me over whenever I’m near him.

Will he leave me alone now? He got what he wanted, and I’m probably just another girl on his list. But he’s weird. I never know how he’s going to react. He did tell me to come again.

I punch my pillow again and again because I’m so mad. No matter what I do, I can’t find anything that could help me gain control over the situation with Victor. Maybe I should look for his sister—if that girl in the photo is his sister—but who knows where she is?

Besides, she has nothing to do with any of this, and I doubt she’d go against her brother, so the whole thing would be pointless.

Once again, I have nothing. Except for the ache low in my stomach that makes me wish Victor was right next to me so I could shove his head between my legs and feel better. Being with him is like a strange version of a high, and he’s a very dangerous, addictive drug.

My phone buzzes. Then it buzzes again. And again. I open the messages and gasp. What the hell? I’m getting dick pics and guys are asking me for the price of my services. Huh?

As my phone keeps buzzing, I search social media. It can’t be a coincidence that my number was leaked right now. It’s Victor again.

I find a photo of a flyer that has been posted all over the college. It has my number and name, and it’s an ad offering sexual services. That’s just...

I’m going to need to change my number because my phone is blowing up, and I have to get those flyers down before someone at Emberwell thinks that I’m the one who put them up. Maybe Victor is now solely focused on getting me kicked out because he no longer needs me there.

I hop off the bed and hurry to get dressed.

***

I RUN THROUGH EVERY Emberwell building and rip off all the flyers I can find. If there are more hiding somewhere or if Victor puts them up again, I’m going to scream.

Just as I stride down the hallway, I see him. He’s lounging against the wall and scrolling through something on his phone.

“You!” I yell as I come face-to-face with him.

He gives me an icy smile. “Hi, Noemi. I won’t be buying your services today. You can go find another victim.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” We’re alone in the hallway, and if anyone hears us, I don’t give a damn. “You can’t just share my number like that!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but as someone who sampled your goods, I can see why you want to charge for them. This is the perfect place for you to earn a lot of money. Plenty of rich clients. You won’t even need your degree. But be a little smarter about it and don’t put your number and name out like that. It reeks of desperation and someone might notice.”

I stare deep into his eyes, trying to figure this whole thing out. But there’s nothing to figure out, is there? He’s just an asshole, and he enjoys being one.

“Something’s terribly wrong with you,” I say.

He remains silent.

“What is it that you really want from me? Do you want me to leave? Is that it?” I ask.

“What you do is none of my business.”

“No? Really? Because you can’t seem to stay out of my business.” I cross my arms.

He pushes himself off the wall, pocketing his phone. “You don’t belong here.”

“Why? Because I’m not rich and privileged like you?” I glare at him.

His face turns serious, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“You know you can just ignore my existence, right?” I say. “It makes no difference to you if I’m here or not. I don’t affect you in any way. Emberwell won’t become less prestigious just because I’m here. Why do you want so bad to ruin the life of someone who’s done nothing to you? Someone who has worked very hard to get where she is right now. Someone who has no chance to steal your job from you one day or anything crazy like that. Nothing I do changes anything for you. So why the fuck can’t you just forget I exist and leave me alone?”

“Think whatever you want.” He pushes me out of the way and strides down the hallway.

“Fuck you!” I yell after him. “I’m not leaving. Do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere!”

He walks away from me, not even glancing back. There’s no point in talking to him. He doesn’t care about anything other than himself. If I want to make him pay, I have to hurt him. Really hurt him.

But this time, I can’t fail. I’m not his toy and I don’t exist for his amusement. Injuring him wasn’t enough because all he had to do was play some games in pain, or maybe under some strong painkillers. If he’s using some illegal substances, I doubt I’ll find them. He’s not so stupid as to leave something like that lying around for anyone to find.

But there’s something I want to do. I want to make sure he messes up one of his precious, important games. Then he’ll be worrying about his performance, and his fans and everyone else will be talking about his bad game.

I know how rabid fans and especially competition can get when a big star has a bad day. He’d be the one getting tons of nasty comments. Sure, he sometimes gets them anyway, but they don’t hurt him because he knows his games are almost always perfect.

But if they weren’t... Maybe he’d start doubting himself too. The comments could actually get to him. He might snap at someone. A chain reaction could happen and Victor’s dreams could be at stake. I’m sure he wouldn’t have any time left to worry about me then.

But what can I do to make sure he sucks in the rink? Telling him things doesn’t affect him. Injuring him isn’t a solution because he can either play anyway, or he’ll have to sit out a game, which won’t give me what I want.

Maybe I have a solution. I could put some sleeping pills into his water bottle, enough to make him drowsy. He’ll want to play because he won’t know what’s happening to him, and then he’ll make a fool of himself in the rink.

Hell, maybe they’ll put him under investigation and if he’s using something else to enhance his performance, they’ll figure him out and ban him from playing hockey. That’s just wishful thinking. I’ll be happy if the fans boo him and his opponents laugh at him for being terrible.

Those videos won’t leave the internet and will be there forever. But I won’t get too giddy about my plan because I have to figure out how to pull that off. It’s not like I can walk into the locker room and spike his drink. I’ve seen him carrying his gym bag and the same black plastic bottle everywhere. All I have to do is get to it.

Is my plan all kinds of wrong?

Yup. Yes, it is.

But sometimes you have to become a monster to defeat a monster, and Victor totally deserves whatever happens to him.