Page 9 of Break You

Xavier: “We” don’t need to do shit.

Me: Yes, WE do.

Fully expecting no response from Loaded Boy, I began tucking my phone into my backpack, only to be interrupted by the telltale ping of a message coming through.

Xavier: Says who?

Me: Says me. And Dr. Reylton.

Xavier: I think both of you have said more than enough. Besides, my mouth is too full of fetid dicks to talk right now.

I tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. The situation would definitely be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

Xavier: I’m glad you find this amusing. That makes exactly one of us. The answer is no.

What? I looked up, and quickly spotted Xavier a few feet down the hall, leaning against the wall with one foot pressed against it like he didn’t have a care in the world. I guessed he didn’t. I wished I could say the same.

I scrambled to my feet, and marched on over to him, swallowing the urge to swipe the smug smirk from his face.

“What the hell is your fucking problem?” So much for keeping a handle on my rage. It bubbled out of me as soon as I opened my mouth.

“No problem.”

“Then how could you have stood there and listened to her spiel about failing us if we even think of coloring outside the lines, and then come out here and not want to cooperate?”

“Because I’m not here to be treated like a kid.”

“Well, then maybe you should stop acting like one, asshat.”

“I told you yesterday to watch your mouth.”

“And I told you to stuff yours full of rancid peens.”

“Watch yourself.” His expression darkened dangerously. I decided to let it go.

“So, if you’re not here to do what’s asked of you—because how dare anyone tell you what to do—why the hell are you here? Serious question. I know why I want to be here...” Why I need to be here, “...but what the fuck is your deal?”

“My deal is nobody tells me what to fucking do.”

“Yeah, that’s coming across loud and clear, and it’s all well and good for you to behave like a petulant toddler, though pretty ironic given that you claim not to want to be treated like a kid. But my name isn’t above the computer lab—” It had occurred to me during the debacle with Dr. Reylton why his name was familiar, he literally owned a wing on campus, “—and I have to work hard to keep my place here—”

“Oh yeah, the scholarship thing—”

I didn’t respond, carrying on as though he hadn’t spoken. “—so, I need to do well in this class. In fact, in every class. Did you read the assignment?”

He shrugged noncommittally. I took that as a yes.

“So, you know that there’s no way we can fake this, just like Dr. Reylton said. We’re either both in, or we both fail.”

“Okay. Well, this little chat has been wonderful, but I think I already made my position clear, and you seem at least smart enough to have understood the fact that I’m out. I don’t care what Reylton threatens us with.”

“And that’s your privilege. Figuratively and literally.I, on the other hand, can’t afford to flunk this course. Figuratively or literally. So, I’m asking you to please work with me on this.”

I hated having to grovel to him, because that’s what it amounted to, but what choice did I have? I needed to pass the course. He had the power to make that happen or totally fuck it up for me. I was reminded of my sentiments from the gala dinner. Last night was pride. Today was the fall. I’d known it would come. It always did. At least for people like me, anyway.

I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel the smirk emanating from his every pore. My gut told me he was going to make me beg, and I hated him for it, because I knew I’d do it. I had to. I drew invisible infinity symbols on the tiled floor with the toe of my Converse, waiting for the executioner to drop the scaffold. Time stood still for so long that I began to wonder if he was going to leave me hanging and never answer my question.

I looked up to find his startling blue eyes—now much more vibrant than they’d been the night before—boring into me with alarming focus.

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