Page 23 of Broken by my Bully
I turn to Myles. “Yeah? And how the fuck would I do that without Rooke coming down on me like a ton of fucking bricks?”
“I dunno.”
“He’s right,” Ezra says. “You took that TA position because it opens a bunch of doors. Well, when God closes a window—” the gavel swings toward Jace, then back to me “—time to open a fucking door.”
“And what, push her out?” I mutter.
“If that’s what it takes.” There’s a lighthearted tone to his voice, like he’s just going along with this fucked up rhetoric…but then his gaze laser focuses.
That’s the Ezra I know and fear.
“Don’t fuck this up. Bro.”
I shut my room door and grunt as I collapse onto my queen bed.
The memory foam upper feels so fucking good I just want to kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers.
But I have two assignments due, and Ezra said the social committee needs help to organize the fucking Rain Dance party. Now I have to go to some bullshit sorority hookup and discuss, I dunno, how many solo cups and streamers we need to buy?
Fighting the urge to nap, because I know it will last until tomorrow morning if I risk it, I heave myself up and drag my backpack closer.
I don’t even have the strength to go to the kitchen and grab a snack before I head out, so I dig through my stuff and find a half-crushed bag of chips, and some M&M’s that fell out of the packet I had today and are now collecting lint at the bottom of my bag.
My snacks are hitting just the right spot until I examine the last candy for lint.
Green M&M’s were Haven’s favorite.
She used to make me arm wrestle her for all the green ones in my pack when I brought them to the woods. When I got stronger and beat her every time, she insisted on trading kisses for candy instead.
My lips quirk into a smile.
Weird how often I let her win after that.
I throw the piece of green candy so hard against the wall it almost bounces all the way back to my bed.
My dorm room in the NEX frat house is just big enough for the queen-size bed, a large walnut dresser with a matching desk, and an armchair piled high with discarded clothes.
Our house girl, Riley, only comes into our rooms once a week to tidy up. I guess she realized frat boys were a bunch of pigs, and their rooms looked the same whether she came a day or a week apart.
Doubt anyone but me notices, except Jace, maybe. His room is really,reallyneat. She dares go inside only once a month, when she’sreallysure he’s not around.
I upend the packet, pouring the crumbs into my mouth.
Fuck Haven.
Fuck her heart-shaped face and her pouty little lips. That one freckle on her cheek I’d try rubbing off until she’d slap me and call me a shit-turd, and I’d laugh, and then she’d laugh.
Not always, though. Sometimes, I’d slap her right back.
Seriously, fuck her.
How the fuck did she expect this to go? She’d pitch up here out of the blue and we’d just pick up where we left off?
Does she evenrememberwhere we left off under that maple tree? Doesn’t fucking seem that way.
Maybe she thinks it’s all in the past. Time heals all wounds, that kind of bullshit.
If so, then she’s out of her goddamn mind.
