Page 8 of Break You

“Yeah.” I stared her down. She wasn’t the only one who could play hardball.

“Okay.”

What? “Okay? Like okay so we don’t have to work together?” I was confused. I thought I was in for way more of a fight than that.

“Mr. Cross, in case you’re unaware, you’re an adult. You’re not at school now, and I’m neither your teacher, nor your parent. I’m your lecturer. I can’t force or compel you to do anything. Your will is yours to do with what you wish.”

“Great. So, I’m not working with her.” I nodded my chin toward Angry Girl.

“Okay. Well, it’s not semantics when I say that if you can’t work together, I won’t be able to pass you for this course.”

“What the fuck?”

She’d pulled the old “bait and switch” on me, and not even blinked.

“If you use that word in here again, I’ll fail you both regardless of the outcome of this conversation.” Dr. Reylton looked like she was waiting for an apology, but she was going to have a long wait. “As I said, I can’t force you to do anything, but just know that if you choose not to work with your assigned partner on this project, I will fail you. Both of you. No ifs. No buts. No what the fucks.”

Rocky

If that asshole hadn’t been about to drag my grade down the toilet right along with his own, I’d have laughed. The look on his face when he realized Dr. Reylton was schooling him was fucking priceless. I watched their conversation ping-pong back and forth—the verbal sparring thing must be his standard MO. He was looking at her with the exact same “I don’t know whether to fight you or fuck you” eyes he’d given me the night before, and I much preferred watching it play out than being at the center of it. If I was being honest, it was hot, if not slightly inappropriate. I was sure I wasn’t the only one in the room half expecting them to start screwing right there on the lecture stage.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Says who? I don’t like your odds, Mr. Cross, because I would, and I will. And that’s a promise, not a threat.” The way she held her ground against him, I for one, believed her.

I smirked at the irony of her using that specific phrase, and was sorely tempted to sit back and see how the whole thing played out. What stopped me was the fact that I had more to lose than either of them in this scenario.

He opened his mouth, but I jumped in before he could get us both flunked.

“That’s fine. We’ll do the project, no problem.” The words almost killed me, but I had bigger fish to fry than Xavier Cross—like the entirety of my future.

“Well, I’m glad to see that one of you has a modicum of sense. Well done Ms. Gordon.”

I nodded, my lips a grim line. Dr. Reylton turned back to the front of the stage, addressing the room at large once more.

“Okay. Anybody else want to object to their pairing?” I could have cut the silence with an ax. “No? Okay, good. However, a word of caution before we proceed, just in case there is any confusion. This is a group assignment. That is part of the assessment process. That does not mean that you work separately, but turn the assignment in together. It means you work together on every step of the process. Every. Step. And let me tell you now that if you don’t do that, I will know. And I will fail you. If you cut steps, I will know. And I will fail you. If you cheat or attempt to cut corners in any other way, I will know. And I will…?” She cupped her ear and raised her eyebrow.

“Fail you,” came the half-hearted response from the room.

“Good. I have high hopes for your assignments and look forward to seeing them on or before the due date.” She turned her attention back to the two of us. “Mr. Cross, Ms. Gordon. Unless you are in genuine need of assistance, I sincerely hope that this is the first and last time I have cause to pay either of you undue attention in my class.” You and me both, lady. “Have I made myself clear?” Abundantly. I nodded. Loaded Boy stood motionless, of course. “I said, have I made myself clear?”

“Yes Dr. Reylton.” Me.

“Yeah.” Him.

“Yes who?”

I was actually ready to kill him. I was just trying to work out the slowest and most painful way possible.

“Dr. Reylton.”

“Good. Now please return to your seats.”

Loaded Boy strolled back to the back of the auditorium like he had all the time in the world, while the entire class watched him. Motherfucker. I was actually going to kill him when or if I saw him again. I couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the lecture through the haze of blind rage. Even more so when at Dr. Reylton’s instruction, I opened the manila folder she’d given me and read the task we’d been assigned, at which point I went from murderous thoughts about him, to thinking that maybe offing myself was the only way forward.

As soon as I’d left the lecture theater at the end of the class, I dropped my bag on the floor, and slid down the wall to join it, extracting my phone and firing off a message to Mr. Cross via the college messenger details Dr. Reylton had included on the assignment outline.

Me: We need to talk.

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