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came right over.
"I'm rethinking letting you go to live at the dorm after what you did tonight."
"My trust fund pays for that," I said quietly. "I have every right to move in."
I was surprised that Spencer didn't slap me, but Graham was standing there. Spencer was always more reluctant to hurt me when Graham was around and had started to stand up to him. Graham was taller and stronger than Spencer so he usually just yelled and shamed me instead.
"I told Graham to keep tabs on you. He has friends at the dorm who’ll watch over you, so you’d better be good. If I hear one word about you sleeping around, drinking, or doing any drugs, you’re cut off from this family or any help you might need getting into Harvard Law. I can get you in, Celia. I can keep you out.” Spencer came closer, his finger pointing in my face. "And don't you even think about talking to that Saint thug Hunter. Do you hear me?"
I didn’t answer. Beside me, Graham cleared his throat, like he was reminding Spencer not to hit me.
“I said, did you hear me?” Spencer shoved his face next to mine and I was unable to avoid looking in his beady little eyes.
“Yes,” I said finally.
“Yes, what?” he asked, not giving an inch.
"Yes, sir," I replied, knowing he wouldn’t stop until I called him 'sir.'
“All right then,” he said and stood up, his hands on his hips. “Don’t screw up.”
I turned and left the kitchen, tears in my eyes.
The next evening, Graham drove me to the dorm, barely saying anything to each other. I wasn’t sad—just really, really angry. I needed time to cool off after my fight with Spencer the previous night and the fact that Graham told him what happened.
When we arrived at the dorm, Graham helped me with my bags, following me up the stairs to the dorm’s entry. Once inside, we made our way down the hallways to the rooms, past several large open areas where students were seated, talking and laughing. We found my room and I opened the door, hauling my things inside.
“Well, here you are,” Graham said and glanced around the small bedroom. “You’ll love it here. I know Spencer can be a bastard, but at least here you’ll be free."
Despite everything, I couldn't say mad at Graham.
"Be careful,” he said and came over to me, looking into my eyes. “Guys are a bunch of horndogs. Don’t let them have anything until you know they respect you and care about you, okay?”
“I will,” I said, wanting to make him worry less. “I understand.”
He hugged me. When he pulled back, he frowned. "That's not pretty," he said, and touched my cheek. "He hit you too hard."
I held my hand up to my cheek. "Do I have a black eye?"
He shook his head. "The start of one. I can see where his hand hit your cheek. What a bastard."
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek softly and then turned to go.
“Graham?” I said before he left. “Hunter turned me down. I was the one who wanted him to kiss me. I was the one who pushed. He refused me three times.”
Graham said nothing for a moment, his back to me. “He should have refused you four.”
Then he left and I was alone.
After I washed the tears off my face and fixed a cup of tea with my new kettle, I unpacked, emptying my bags into my tiny chest of drawers. Once I was finished, I took out my cell and texted Amy, my best friend from high school.
Celia: I’m here.
Amy: Oh, Joy! How was the party? I wish I could have come…
Celia: Shit went down.
Amy: Why? What the hell happened?
