Page 158 of Lessons in Cruelty

I’m the only one who’s late.

Me…and Haven.

When I turn to take my seat, ignoring a girl who turns to wrinkle her nose at me, and I see Haven walking in behind Melissa, I fall more than sit in the French-upholstered chair.

She gives me a nervous glance and pulls out a chair beside Melissa, keeping her eyes averted.

I cross my arms over my chest, kick my chair onto its back legs, and rock.

The guy sitting next to me leans closer, turning his back to the rest of the table. “Bro, you just spark up?”

How the hell did he smell anything through my cologne? Guy’s got a narco dog’s nose.

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, so?”

I think he’s from the frat next door to ours. They’re mostly jocks and party animals.

He shrugs. “Wanna spark up after this again?”

I grin. “Sure.”

My gaze flicks back to Haven. She’s staring at Hillary, GAZ’s head honcho—a slack-faced brunette with hair extensions, lip filler, fake nails, fake tits.

But as if feeling my eyes on her, she gives me another nervous glance.

I can see her throat move as she swallows.

Yeah, Little Miss Heavenly.

Didn’t realize you’d be next-door neighbors with your worst enemy, did you?

But it’s not just her I want to destroy anymore. It’s him too.

Professor Bastian fucking Rooke with his Tesla and his designer clothes and his hands all over what’s mine.

He thinks he’s so clever, playing savior. Probably gets off on rescuing poor girls, making them grateful, making them spread their legs for whatever crumbs he scatters their way.

Well, this time he picked the wrong fucking girl.

Haven doesn’t need saving.

She needs breaking.

And when I’m done with her, he’ll be next.

Chapter 39

Kai

“Last item on the agenda,” Hillary says. “The dean spoke to me this morning. She wants to encourage more physical donations this year, not just cash. Something to show that people actually give a shit about Riverside, not just their tax write offs.”

A bored murmur moves through the students clustered around the GAZ dining table. We’ve been at this for two hours, and shit’s getting stale as fuck.

Everyone here looks like they’d rather be studying calculus than dealing with the nitty-gritty of party planning. We dealt with all the fun shit at the last few meetings—lining up the DJs, making sure there were enough ‘party supplies.’

…I’m not talking about red solo cups.

This isn’t my first Rain Dance, and despite everything that’s kicked me in the balls so far this semester, I’m looking forward to it.