Page 18 of Bitter Lies

Get a grip, Halsey.

“How’s the week going?”

“Good.” I avoid his gaze because I can’t shake the feeling that he can see behind the mask, and I’m terrified of what he knows.

“How do you like your courses so far?”

“Okay. My Poli Sci class is kicking my ass, though,” I grumble, smiling when he laughs.

“Yeah, well, you either love politics, or you don’t,” he chuckles.

“Halsey?”

Whipping my head around, I meet the stone-cold stare of Griffin, who’s standing beside a buxom brunette I don’t recognize and of whom he stalks away from, heading straight toward me.

“I’ll see you later, Halsey,” Dr. Marks says, walking off, but I’m caught in Griffin’s icy stare and can only mutter halfheartedly, “Later.”

Griffin glances the way of our professor before stopping before me and demanding, “What was that about?”

“What?” I glance around confused.

“You and him? Halsey, what were you doing with him?” he asks harshly, curling his hands into fists.

“Dr. Marks?” I raise my brows as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Yes.”

“Chatting. Griffin, what is your problem?”

“Are you fucking him?” he asks roughly, his eyes blazing into mine.

Shocked, I step back and look him over scathingly, ignoring how hot he looks in a tank and shorts, that same tattoo blazing across his arm, which I note absently is a dragon.

“Right, of course. I’m fucking my professor,” I say tartly.

His eyes narrow to thin slits, his nostrils flaring as he leans into my face and says in a deadly, cold tone, “That better be a fucking joke.”

Narrowing my eyes right back, I put on my best sassy expression. “Or what?”

He rears back, his eyes flickering before his mouth flattens into a thin line. “You can be kicked out for fucking the faculty, but maybe you don’t care? Maybe this is another fucked-up way to get attention, hm? When are you going to grow up, Halsey? When are you going to stop acting like a little brat? You’re worrying your parents, Max—”

“Please, Max doesn’t give a shit,” I say, breaking into his rant, my cheeks stinging with humiliation.

As if I walk through every day choosing to feel like this, as if I have a fucking choice at all. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

“What I do or don’t do is none of your business. You think you can lord your shit over me? You? How about you back off because dicks like you who get off on getting off probably shouldn’t be giving life lessons!” I say heatedly.

He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest, and I do not stare at it or them, even if I want to so badly my eyes are fucking watering.

“Is that right? Well, at least I don’t fuck people to find my own self-worth. You know why Jason fucking dumped you? Because he doesn’t want some chick hanging off of him over pussy,” he sneers.

Laughing, I step away and nod, whispering, “You’re right, but tell me how that’s okay? Tell me how you can fuck anything with a hole and it’s okay? But if I do it, it’s because I’m a fucking stage one clinger?”

“Because,” he says silkily, “you can’t fuck anything without deciding you’re in love.”

“Whatever.” I cast my eyes to the sky before turning to go, my stomach roiling with disgust.

“By the way, I’m hurt that you would profess your undying love for me and then fucking drop me for a douche like Jason.”

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