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Chapter Eight
Elena
WhenIwalkedintoNew Ventures, I was handed an iPad by the TA. She passed one out to everyone entering, telling us what we were doing would be explained to all of us at once.
I took a seat in the front row, like I had the second day of class. I’d thought I could avoid the Pi Sig douche-canoes with the change of seating, but they’d piled right into the row directly behind me—and today was no different.
Assholes.
I didn’t give one damn what they hissed about me during class. Their opinions of me had exactly zero impact on my self-esteem. What did bother me was how distracting they were. I’d been looking forward to this class for a while and having to put up with baby bullies while trying to pay attention to Professor Seavers was headache inducing.
As I tapped around on the borrowed iPad, the two seats on either side of me became occupied. I didn’t even have to look to know who had just sat down. The heavy floral perfume mixed with fake tanner told me all I needed to know.
“Hi, Elena,” Kayleigh cooed from my right.
“Your forehead’s looking a little less gnarly,” Abby said from my left. “It lookedso badthe last time I saw you. Like, incredibly awful.”
I nodded, not lifting my eyes from the tablet. “Must have been the blood of virgins I bathed in last night. It’s hard to come by, but really healing for the skin.”
Kayleigh sputtered. “What virgin did you find on campus? Your little nerd boyfriend?”
That had me peering up. “I don’t know what that means, dear.”
She pointed to the lone soul at the end of the aisle. “You two seemed cozy on the first day of class. I just thought…”
Salvatore, the kid who’d helped me off the floor when I’d gone splat, was pretending not to be listening. From the flame in his cheeks, he’d heard at least some of what was said.
The irony of the situation was, a few years ago, I would have been Kayleigh, laughing at the scrawny kid with thick glasses, as if I was better simply because of hitting the genetic lottery. I’d been trying so hard to hold on tosomething,it hadn’t mattered who I’d trampled to keep my reins.
I’d still trample bitches like Kayleigh and Abby without any qualms. Guys like Salvatore? Nope. Not unless he gave me a reason, then it wason.
“No, Salvatore actually doesn’t qualify. When I was riding his huge cock after class on Monday, he didn’t say whether it was his first time or not, but from the way he got me offthreetimes before he got his, I’m thinking not.” I fanned my face at the fake memories and winked at Sal before he bowed his head. “Skinny guys always have horse cocks, I swear. It’s a scientific fact.”
Abby scrunched her face up in disgust. “I hope you’re kidding.”
I drew a heart on the iPad with my finger. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“But…but…” Kayleigh’s mouth gaped like a fish. “You just…”
I shrugged. “Honestly, it’s rude you keep trying to pry details out of me about my personal sex life with Salvatore. If you really must know, he had to let me down easy because one night with him, and I was a goner. Sal is a rolling stone, you know? He was a sweetheart about it, but I’m still a little brokenhearted.”
Abby leaned in, examining my face. “I actually can’t tell if you’re serious.”
“I’d never lie about something so personal.” I tossed my hair behind my shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I wouldn’t want to ruin Salvatore’s reputation.”
“What do you mean?” Kayleigh whispered. “Whoishe?”
I laughed, like she’d just told an amazing joke. “You’re so funny, oh my god.” I shook my head, muttering, “Who is he?” while Kayleigh and Abby stared holes into the side of my head.
The professor started class, explaining she’d be sharing slides to our iPads of start-ups we’d be analyzing together. Despite sitting between the Blonde Terrors, I got so involved with the lesson, I tuned out their existence.
A message popped up on my screen, alerting me that a device nearby wanted to AirDrop a file to me. Thinking nothing of it, I clicked accept.
The file wasn’t from Professor Seavers, like I had assumed.
And from the giggles and gasps going around the class, I wasn’t the only one who’d received it.
Displayed on my iPad screen, and everyone’s around me, was a picture of me from Monday, laid flat out on the ground. Whoever had taken it had captured me from the side, getting my shocked, derpy expression. They’d made a meme out of me too. Stamped across the bottom were the words, “Diving for dicks: right spirit, wrong execution.”
