Page 567 of Lessons in Cruelty

“What’s the point?” I rake a hand through my now wet hair, deliberately mussing it. “I had an entire discussion planned. Notes prepared. This would have given all of you a significant advantage on your finals.” I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “But right now, I’m seriously questioning my future in academia if this is the level of dedication I can expect.”

She props her sunglasses on top of her head, baring bronze eyes clad in immaculate makeup. Every inch of her face has been perfectly contoured, bronzed, highlighted, Christ knows what else. And for what? The skin underneath looks flawless.

Someone has made her feel inferior for a very long time. The makeup is her attempt to fool them into thinking she is, in fact, perfect in every way.

“Professor, please. I came all this way⁠—”

I narrow my eyes. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

She winces at my tone. “That’s not what I⁠—“

“I’m going home.” Our bodies brush as I turn to get into my car. “I’m going to pour myself a massive glass of wine and reconsider why I bother trying to elevate minds that clearly have no interest in being elevated.”

Rain briefly slams into my face as I get into my Tesla. Melissa hurriedly steps aside so I can close the door, teetering precariously on her heels before finding her balance.

One...two...three...

“Professor, wait!”

I wind down the window, but I don’t look at her.

Let her stew for a moment and consider her options.

As much as she tries to hide it with that inflated self-confidence, there’s a people pleaser lurking deep inside Parker. It begs for validation every time that slim hand shoots up the moment she knows the answer to a question. It’s blatant in how put together she is—neat, perfect, pleasing.

Her childhood must have been teeming with designer toys and thoroughbred ponies. Pop stars flown in for every birthday since she was three. But she paid for that privilege with parental neglect and oh-so conditional love.

“Please,” she continues, her voice taking on the tone of someone whose worst nightmare is rejection. “I was really looking forward to this.”

“You didn’t seem that keen when I asked about it on Thursday,” I say dryly, giving her a condescending tilt of my head.

“I…wasn’t sure if I’d already made plans,” she blatantly lies.

Something she’ll pay for dearly when I finally convince her to get in my fucking car.

And it better be soon, because the longer she stands out there, the higher the chance someone will spot the two of us together.

“You missed your calling, Miss Parker. Could have won an Academy Award for your performance.”

She’s getting annoyed, but desperately suppressing it.

I’m not.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” I say, winding up the window. As I’m throwing my arm around the passenger headrest to scan the back windshield, Melissa’s shadow appears at the window.

She taps her nails against the glass until I wind down the window, then ducks down to speak to me, giving me a glimpse of her pale cleavage when gravity tugs down the front of her dress. Those tits aren’t anything like Haven’s either. I’m guessing neither is her cunt.

“Don’t punish me for those assholes,” she says, sounding a little snippy. “I’m late, but at least I showed up.”

I sigh theatrically. “If you’re serious, then…” I wave a hand to the passenger side seat, with my other hand. “I guess you’re welcome to join me. But please don’t waste my time if you’re just trying to score free alcohol. I’ve just about had it with you kids for one day.”

I watch the internal struggle play out across her face. It’s the same one Haven fought that first week of school.

A battle both girls lose.

“Fine,” she huffs out.

I unlock the door, but she hesitates with one slender leg in, the other still planted outside.