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“No, I don’t,” he says.
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“I told you, teachers and students, it’s not allowed.”
“But murder is? I don’t believe you,” I say as I grab my shirt. “I think you’re just an asshole.”
“Harper, please,” he says.
I pull my shirt on and wait for a second, giving him a chance to walk over to me and tell me he’s sorry. There’s something between us. I know there is. It’s not in my head.
But he sits there, naked on the couch, not even bothering to get up.
“Fuck you, Adrian,” I say. Tears burn in the back of my eyes but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I walk to the door and don’t look back.
