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“Are you good?” Bhodi asks, carefully pulling out so as not to hurt me. I still wince.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m good.”
“It’s a miracle the water hasn’t gone cold,” he says. I laugh, but it sounds hollow. What a head fuck that was. As well as an actual fuck.
“Get dried and dressed and I’ll see you downstairs. I have an idea that I think will help. Okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I’m still kind of dazed and confused. He kisses me, tenderly this time, and then climbs out. “What’s your plan?” I call.
“We’re gonna get drunk!”
A second later the bathroom door opens and closes again, and I’m alone. I turn off the water and climb out, wrap a large, fluffy towel around my body, and stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror.
Does my hair look brighter?It does. Almost like it’s been freshly dyed. But that’s impossible.I’ll have to ask Bhodi what shampoo he used. If it’s a colour reviver, that stuff is magic.
I’m distracted from my appearance as the rest of that kiss with Bhodi memory surfaces.
“What the fuck is this, Bhodi?” The prof’s harsh tone makes Bhodi wince, and he takes a step back from me.
“Nothing, prof,” he says dismissively, wounding me. “It was nothing.”
I can’t help the hurt hiss that escapes my lips at his words.
“I don’t need you,” I whisper roughly, pushing past them both. “Fuck you… Fuck both of you.”
I blink rapidly to clear my head. Bhodi reallywasa dick to me.
Or maybe you misunderstood the situation, Malia. Ask him about it.
Yeah, no. Getting drunk sounds like a much better plan.
“What the hell is going on here?” The professor’s voice booms through the room several hours later, rebounding back in a terrifying echo that makes me jump. The others barely even flinch, like they’re used to such behaviour. Or maybe they just handle their liquor better than me.
I’m quite drunk.
“What does it look like?” Bhodi shrugs carelessly as we continue playing our game of Monopoly. The guys thought it might distract me but it wasn’t working. Until Bhodi grabbed the booze and insisted I drink just enough to take the edge off.
Only, once the edge was gone, I was able to enjoy their company and the game. And then the drinks kept on coming.
The music cuts off abruptly, Gizzle’s ‘Get Loud For Me’ sadly dying in its prime.
“It looks like you’re getting drunk with a minor.”
I swear I can hear him grinding his teeth from the other side of the room.
He looks hot when he’s angry.
Nope…besides, he’s angry all the damn time.
That’s why he’s hot all the damn time.
Shut up, Malia! You’re drunk!
“I’m not a minor,” I protest, indignantly. “And I’m not dru—hic!”
The professor shoots me a withering stare that flushes me with heat. Why do I like him so much more when he’s being a bastard?
