Page 158 of Broken by my Bully
I’ve never seen so many fairy lights and dreamcatchers in one place. Haven’s gonna fucking love it here.
Pity she’s not staying.
The sweet smell of weed blows over me as Kruger lights a joint he pulled out of his pocket. He hits it a few times and then passes it to me.
“So what’s your deal with that chick, bro? You got the hots for her or something?”
“Who, Haven?” I guess I shouldn’t have immediately guessed it was her. He could have been talking about Melissa, or Hillary, or any of the other sorority girls at the meeting. But I guess he saw enough.
“Yeah. She’s cute.”
“Fuck, no, I’m not into her.” I take another hard tug before handing the joint back. “Don’t have syphilis on my bingo card.”
“For real? Not really picking up slut vibes from her.”
“Half the football team railed her.”
“No shit, bro. Always the quiet ones, huh?” Kruger lets out a wheezy, high-pitched laugh. “When was this?”
My hands are clenched into fists, and I can’t seem to force them to relax. No wonder my voice struggles past clenched teeth.
“A while ago.”
Feels like yesterday.
“Meh.” He waves a hand like he’s swattinga fly. “Old news is dead news. Probably just a rumor, anyway.” He laughs and jabs me in the ribs with his elbow. Lucky for him he’s stoned, or I’d have decked him. “Pics, or it didn’t happen, amiright?”
“I saw the pics,” I grate out.
“Yeah?” Kruger considers this for a moment, a philosophical light in his eyes.
Fuck, I’m about to punch this guy, and it’s not even his fucking fault.
It’s all Haven.
Always has been, always will be.
“I mean, sure, our boys fuck,” Kruger says, thankfully snapping me out of the very bloody, very messy image in my head. “But they don’t exactly go around broadcasting that shit. You know what a fucking prude the dean is. She hears there’s been gang bangs and shit happening, she’ll suspend everyone.” He blows out a stream of smoke. “She needs to get laid, man.”
He’s right.
About the dean. About everything.
The only reason we get away with murder is that we keep it under wraps. And the faculty members that know about the shit we get up to are usually involved themselves, so it’s in their best interest to keep that shit quiet.
“You’re right,” I murmur, waving away the joint when he wants to hand me the last few drags. “Old news is dead news.”
“Sure thing.” He pinches the roach and takes a tiny sip from it before crushing it out under his foot.
I take out the eye drops that live in my pants pocket, handing him the bottle when I’m done dosing myself. He hands it back with a smile, wiping away his artificial tears with a knuckle.
“Hey, man, nice hanging with you. Let me know if you ever want to spark up a jay again.”
I nod, watching him go with narrowed eyes.
It’s not just that I’m stoned.
I am.
