Page 73 of Broken by my Bully
“Hmm.” She cocks her head at me, her red hair flat against her cheek. “Pretending to be a goody two shoes, and then I find this?”
Heat surges up my neck. “What did you find?”
“God, are you blushing? What is this, sixteenth-century Verona?”
She glances at my phone again, eyes narrowing, then smiles. It’s not a particularly friendly smile.
“I underestimated you, Haven Lee.”
I open my mouth to come to my own defense, but she raises a finger. “We’re too sober for this mindfuckery.”
Melissa gets to her feet and goes to her closet. My gaze follows her until I realize I’m staring point blank at the camera. I quickly avert my eyes, keeping them fixed on the snacks until she’s sitting in front of me again.
She sets two plastic shot glasses down on the envelope and pours us each a tequila.
When I groan, she tuts at me with a finger.
“When did this turn into a drinking game?” I say as I hold up the shotglass.
“When he told us to ‘have fun with it.’ Only way that’s happening is with tequila.” She gives me a pained smile. “No offense.”
“So much taken,” I mutter sourly.
We tap our glasses and throw back the tequila.
It’s like swallowing oil. Only someone set it on fire first.
“So, chronologically from the fifth message,” Melissa says, holding up my phone again. She glances toward the dresser. “Names have been changed to protect the innocent.”
That makes me giggle, because thinking of Professor Rooke as innocent is hilarious.
“Person one. Thank you for your submission. Person two. Sorry about today.”
She reads the rest of the messages while I try not to spontaneously combust. Then she blows out a breath and gives me back my phone. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
I clap my hands over my face when she wins again. “This sucks!”
She rubs her hands, clicking two of her rings together, then shakes them out and draws the next card.
“Hmm…” Melissa looks over at me, eyes narrowed. “Another shot.”
I don’t argue. Judging from her expression, she has a hard decision to make. We clink our tiny glasses and pour the liquid down our throats. She shudders, and I gag.
“I’ll suffer the consequence.”
“Really?”
She holds the card out to me between two fingers. “Yeah. I got this.” Then she leans forward and closes her eyes like she’s preparing for something.
I glance down at the card, and my lips purse into a bemused smile.
Cruelty
Review your partner’s appearance out loud in the most critical light possible.
Consequence
Allow your partner to slap you across the face.
