Page 164 of Lessons in Cruelty

And then I pour myself a glass of milk instead of water, because cookies and milk.

That’s around when Haven walks past, her arms loaded with random shit. The rest of the sorority girls are nowhere to be seen. Probably all in their rooms, face masks on, hair in rollers. I don’t fucking know what girls do at night.

Right.

She’s moving in tonight.

Burrowing her claws even deeper.

I sidle over to the kitchen drawers, keeping my eyes locked where Haven disappeared up the stairs. My hand fumbles with the handle before I slide open the drawer and slip my hand inside.

Poor little thing.

Moving all that shit by herself.

Someone should help her.

Chapter 40

Haven

I can barely see where I’m going. But I’d rather pull a muscle than make a hundred trips to the car to bring my stuff inside. I’m stubborn like that. Also, I apparently have more shit than I thought I did. Who knew you could be broke and a hoarder?

Groaning, I dump my armful of stuff onto my bed and survey the junk with a disparaging once-over. It’s hard not to dwell on the thought that Bastian saw everything I own as he transferred my stuff out of the sedan and into his Land Rover.

Luckily, I brought nothing embarrassing with me when I left Ashwood Crossing.

“You fucked him.”

I spin around, hand on my heart as I stare at Melissa where she’s sitting perched on the edge of her bed, one long leg draped over the other. “Are you auditioning for a fucking horror movie or something?” I groan.

She crosses her arms over her chest, rumpling her cropped, pink hounds tooth jacket. “Was it a package deal? Or did he make you do ass stuff for the car?”

God, not her too. Is it really that fucking obvious that there’s something between me and Bastian?

I snort. “Are you high?”

“Hillary got a call from Professor Rooke yesterday. This morning, my roommate’s gone. Then you show up.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re sleeping with him.”

“What? No!” There’s a furious blush creeping up my neck, so I quickly turn to the bed to sort out the junk piled on the sheets.

I stop, her words finally hitting home, and throw her a glare over my shoulder. “Ass stuff?”

She shrugs a shoulder and looks away, her tone all cool indifference. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“And you’re not a very good friend,” I snap.

Her chestnut eyes are wide when she looks back at me, her arms tensing as if she’s about to lash out, then she slumps a little. “Fair enough. I’ll keep my nose out of your love life.”

I hug my arms tight against my chest. I need to dig my cardigan out of whatever hole it’s gotten lost in, because I’m freezing. The skirt on this maxi dress might be long, but the fabric is way too thin to keep out the cold.

“That’s not the only thing I’m talking about.”

Her frown is deep enough to crease her brow, which is surprising.

I gesticulate wildly. “Professor Rooke’s wild card thing? How could you?”

“…Make up some random shit that just happened to be true?” She scoffs, looking away again. But her foot is bouncing. “Luck, I guess.”