Page 57 of Broken by my Bully
We’re as silent as his electric car as it speeds down the college’s tree-lined driveway. I’m taking turns watching the trees blur, staring at the car’s gorgeous minimalist interior, and peeking glances at Bastian’s arm muscles as he steers.
He took off his jacket midway through class today. Coincidentally, around the time I began zoning out.
As if reading my mind, Bastian says, “How did you find today’s lecture? Was there enough context, even without reading the assigned chapters?”
The intersection at the end of the college’s drive is a four-way stop, one of them a blind rise. Bastian stops his car to check foroncoming traffic, making eye contact that I break with a nervous chuckle.
“Uh, yeah, it was good. Actually made me keener to go and read the book.” I hear what I just said and cringe as he turns onto the road. “I mean, not that I wasn’t keen already, just?—“
“Fuck!”
Bastian slams on the brakes and swerves to the side. The Tesla isn’t going fast, but some kind of automatic braking system kicks in because we stop so suddenly my head jerks forward.
A truck blasts its horn at us as it whooshes past inches from my door.
My hand is on my heart, blood draining from my face.
“God,” I whisper. “It almost fucking hit us.”
“You okay?” Bastian leans over to me, craning to look at my face. “Haven.”
“Yeah, sorry. Just, just got a fright. Look.” I hold out my hand so he can see how I’m shaking.
“Jesus, he could have killed you.” His hand engulfs mine, thumb pressing into my palm where my pulse hammers. For a moment, his grip tightens, possessive and almost angry, before he releases me like I’ve burned him.
“Shit like that makes my fucking blood boil.” His voice drops to something dangerous. “The thought of you getting hurt...”
He doesn’t finish, but the way his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel tells me everything.
A hot flush spreads through me. I’ve never seen someone react that way before. Not toward me, anyway. Except Kai, but this feels much different.
Bastian shakes his head as he carefully guides his Tesla back on the road and gives me a tight smile when our eyes meet.
At the next intersection, he taps the car’s console. Soothing classical music flows out of the sound system. Chopin’s Nocturne album, from the artwork on the screen. Must be to calm me down, because there’s not a tremor anywhere on his body…and I’ve been looking.
I don’t know why I expect him to head downtown. Maybe because he’s a teacher, and I assume they don’t make megabucks. But he’s only on the main road for a few minutes before he turns onto Earl Avenue, and we ascend one of the hills Hillside gets its name from.
I turn to stare out the window.
Agony Hollow might be a small town, but I know most of it. Like this road that winds up the side of the largest hill. There’s a steep cliff edge on one side, densely packed trees on the other.
We pass the lookout spot above Hollow Heights. It’s nothing more than a small alcove butting right up against the cliff’s edge. A concrete bench, a concrete bin, and enough parking for max three cars.
But the view…God, that view.
The entire town is visible. From the large multi-level homes we’ve just driven past, to more compact townhomes. Strips of businesses and apartments cluster tighter and tighter together as the grid condenses toward Hollow Way, the town’s main street, a road that cuts through our town at a diagonal until it intersects the Agony River at the lower half of the town. Past that, the squalor is blatant, even at this altitude.
Perhapsespeciallythis high up.
I look away, swallowing.
“I’ve heard things are rough down there.” Bastian’s voice is low, a muted hum barely able to rival the Tesla’s tires on the road and the piano music. “Those poor people just can’t seem to drag themselves out of the mud.”
I want to tell him to fuck off. That the streets of Riverside are mud-free. Although the same can’t be said for rubbish, roaches, or rodents.
But the way he says it, it’s not like he’s pitying me. It’s like we’re sympathizing together.
“Where are we going?”
