Page 31 of Break You

Me: We’ve already been through this. Meet me at Where You Bean? at 3.00.

Rocky: I’m having a pajama day.

Me: Come in your PJs.

Rocky: I have. Repeatedly. That’s why I need a day of rest. I’m wiped out.

I stared hard at the phone as though I could change the words on the screen by the power of my mind.

“Mr. Cross, why am I speaking to you again? This is not middle school.”

“No idea, but don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

“Consider this your second warning.”

I shoved my iPad into my bag, huffed it onto my back, and walked out of the lecture hall. I could feel eyes boring into my back as I left, especially Dr. Reylton’s, but I gave zero fucks.

Me: Don’t fuck with me Angry Girl. I’m really not in the mood.

Rocky: Clearly you’re not the one I’m fucking.

Me: Seriously. Don’t.

Rocky: Okay, so where’s the fire?

Me: I was expecting to see you in class so that we could talk about the assignment. We need to get moving—Reylton even mentioned our lack of collaboration.

Rocky: How does she know whether we’re collaborating or not?

Me: The fact that I was clueless about your whereabouts made it pretty damned obvious we weren’t. I don’t appreciate being made to look like a fool in front of a room of people, btw.

Rocky: That’s on you not me. And for the record, I don’t owe you anything, especially not details of my movements, I excused myself with Reylton.

Me: I’m aware. Enough messages. Meet me at three.

* * *

I went straight to the coffee shop sucking down a cigarette as I crossed the campus. I had over an hour to kill, but I was desperately in need of caffeine, and I figured I could get some work done while I waited. I wasn’t even convinced Rocky was going to show up, but only time would tell.

I inhaled my coffee like the lifeline it was. It had been a rough and sleepless night—partly because of what had gone down at the Swan Club, but more so, I was rattled by Drew’s last words before I’d walked out of his room. I’d hated Rocky on sight, even before I knew she was Pixie’s sister. That was just the icing on the cake, giving my rage a legitimate home. Yet, at the same time, even as a part of me—the biggest part—wanted to destroy her, I was haunted by a gnawing feeling I couldn’t put a name to, and Drew had been right about one thing—I had no fucking idea how to deal with it.

“Who murdered your puppy?”

“Hmm…?” I’d been so lost in thought; I hadn’t seen or heard her approach.

“You look like we’re about to head into the zombie apocalypse.”

“Have you checked out a mirror lately, Snow White? I don’t think you’re one to be flinging shit about my appearance right now. You look like crap.”

“Charming as ever, Loaded Boy. What did you call me here for?”

“Sit down. Do you want coffee? You definitely look like you need it.” It was true. She looked as bad as I felt. Worse.

“Nah, I’m not staying long enough for that. I only came because I have some other shit to do on campus, and I wanted to get you off my back.”

“Just sit down. I don’t care if you have a drink or not, but I’m not conducting this conversation standing up.”

“You’re not standing up.”

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