8. Haven
Chapter 8
Haven
I opted for a ballerina bun today. Makes my hair look less greasy, and I think it goes better with the calf-length yellow sundress I’m wearing. It’s thrifted, but it’s got Gucci on the label so I’m calling it vintage and rolling with it.
There’s even a lick of mascara on my lashes. Don’t know how long it was in the glove compartment before I found it, so I’m definitely risking an eye infection.
Worth it.
After listening to the ‘healing affirmations’ cassette tape I also discovered in the glove box, I’m ready to tackle whatever fresh hell comes my way.
I am happy.
I am successful.
I am worthy.
And fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.
Nora smiles when she sees me, and that smile blossoms into a grin when I slap the Financial Responsibility form down on the freshly polished counter.
“That was quick!”
I shrug like it’s nothing. “I told his guru it would mess with my dad’s positive vibes if I got kicked out of college because he was too busy aligning his chakras to sign a form.”
She giggles as she slides the form down to her desk and gives it a quick scan. “Beautiful, thank you, sweetie.”
When she looks up and sees a candy bar sitting on the counter, her cheeks turn rosy.
“They were on sale. Two for one.” I give her a wink, wiggling my fingers at her as I tuck my tote bag under my arm and head for the stairs.
I almost make it.
“Oh, Haven, dear! Just a minute, sweetie.”
Fuck.
Well, no matter how this ends, at least I went down swinging.
My hand is still on the balustrade as I turn to give her a forced smile. “Uh-huh?”
“The annual Rain Dance is coming up. The flyers just got dropped off this morning. Would you like one?”
Stress kills. My cortisol levels must be sky high by now.
I trot back to her to fetch a flier, the slap of my flip-flops seeming to echo through the quiet reception. I wish I could say they were some designer brand too, but they’re about three flops away from disintegrating, so…
There’s still plenty of time before I have to meet Professor Rooke. His classes start at ten-thirty every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I pass the janitor halfway up the stairs, a cloth in one of his hands and a can of furniture spray in the other.
Hmm…lemon.
My favorite.
Now that I’m not arriving at the start of a class time slot, the halls are a lot busier. Some students glance my way, and even a handful smile, but most of them are too busy staring at their phones or pretending the world doesn’t exist.
Maybe I finally broke that curse, because I don’t spot anyone I know. I’m just another college student, and no one gives a shit about me.
By the time I get to room 102, I’m wearing a melancholy smile.
I push the door open and slip inside, immediately turning to grab the handle so I can make sure the door doesn’t slam.
Maybe I can fit in here. Eventually. I guess everyone struggles the first few days. All these unfamiliar faces. I’m sure there are other students like me that don’t have friends. Not everyone’s going to be an asshole like?—
Kai’s sprawled in his swivel chair, feet up on the desk, hands tucked behind his head. He’s chewing on something, but plucks it out of his mouth and tosses it on the table when my eyes land on him.
“Hey…” he drawls. “What’s up, Heavenly?”
Why the fuck does the sound of his voice make my stomach do cartwheels? Is it because it’s exactly the same as I remember—the inflection, the tone—but a hundred decibels deeper?
A quick scan of the room confirms Professor Rooke isn’t here yet.
It’s just me and Kai.
This is the part in the horror movie where an amateur violist picks up his instrument and gets to work.
I lift my chin, adjust the floppy bag under my arm and walk over to Kai as gracefully as one can in flip-flops. Which is not gracefully at all. I swear, I’m echoing.
He gives me a long, almost lewd, once-over as I approach.
I slam my bag down on the desk and curl my hands into fists at my side. “What the hell is your problem?”
One of his wild, bushy eyebrows quirks up. “Ex-cusie?” he says in a terrible Italian accent.
“Not a, hi Haven , or a, good to see you it’s been a while , all I get is you being a fucking dick?” I cross my arms over my chest, but my hands are still in fists.
He’s still got his feet up, so when he grabs the back of his neck and stretches, his swivel chair groans like he’s testing the limits of its manufacturer’s warranty.
“Hiya, slut,” he deadpans. “Good to see your sorry ass. It’s been a while.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to be an astronaut when you grew up, not a fucking asshole.”
Fuck this guy and his sour mood. I’ll wait outside for Professor Rooke.
But when I reach for my bag, Kai drops his feet to the floor and slams a hand down on my stuff.
“Hey!”
He grabs my wrist. “Hey,” he parrots back, his calm voice a bitter contrast to my frustration.
I immediately try to tug free, but fuck , he’s strong.
He stands and steps up to me, inches taller, inches wider. If there was a light source behind him, he’d be eclipsing me. But there’s just a long stretch of blackboard, and the staggered rows of empty seats behind me.
Where the hell is Professor Rooke?
Kai stares down his nose at me, and there’s such disgust in his eyes that I can feel just how sweaty, sticky, and greasy I am. I wasn’t expecting anyone to get this close to me. If I had, I’d have washed my hair or something.
He tugs me forward so hard that I fall against him. When I push at his chest, he grabs the top of my bare arm. His hand is warm but viciously tight, and he uses it to shake me.
“Whose dick did you suck to get the grant?” he mutters through clenched teeth.
“What’s with this dick-sucking obsession?” I hate how breathless I sound. So frantic. “Your girlfriend not giving you enough head, loser?”
He laughs. A cruel, mirthless sound I never heard him make before.
“Why buy the cow if you’re giving away all that milk for free?” He drops his shoulders until we’re on eye level, and it’s fucking terrifying.
I always loved his eyes.
Verdant green, like the leaves and vines and ferns that served as a backdrop for all his wild fantasies.
He had unquenchable joy back then. Even if he had a fight with his brother, or his parents had cussed him out for something, he’d rant about it for all of a minute before announcing the theme of that day’s adventure. And then we’d be off, both our lives forgotten at the border of the small creek we crossed each day.
Young Kai would look back at me, white teeth flashing in a tanned face, green eyes gleaming with excitement. And I’d feel safe and happy, my life brimming with potential.
But his eyes have changed.
He releases my wrist and grabs my chin. “Do everyone a favor and just walk out that fucking door and never come back.”
He shoves me away from him.
I try to catch my balance on the table, but I grab my bag instead and end up sprawled on the vinyl floor.
Maybe if I’d had a moment to catch my breath, I’d have scrambled up and sprinted the hell out of that lecture hall.
The door opens, and Professor Rooke walks in, and suddenly Kai’s by my side, helping me to my feet.
“Flip-flops are dangerous as shit,” he says, a laugh threaded through his words.
I pull myself out of his grip as my teacher walks closer. “Don’t touch me!” I hiss.
Kai turns his back on Professor Rooke, grabs my cardigan where it landed on the floor, and shoves it against my chest. “Put it on. Now. ” The last word a quiet snarl.
I’m shaking as I back up, hands trembling as I somehow wrestle my arms through the sleeves. Then Kai’s grinning, picking up my bag and handing it to me as he turns to greet Rooke. “Morning, Professor.”
I must be gaping like a beached fish, because my teacher gives me a hard stare. “Everything all right, Miss Lee?”
“She tripped,” Kai says, holding out his hand. “Can I get you set up?”
Rooke’s eyes stay fixed on mine as he slips the strap of his satchel off his shoulder and hands it to Kai. “Yes.”
Kai takes the bag and goes to sit behind the desk, unpacking Professor Rooke’s things. I flinch when he starts whistling. I swear to God it’s the same tune he used to whistle when we were kids.
Professor Rooke throws Kai a quick look, but his eyes are back on me a second later. “Kai, go get Miss Lee a cup of coffee from the cafeteria,” he says.
“What?”
I can see Kai’s frown from the corner of my eyes. I lift my chin and throw Kai a frosty glance. “Just cream. No sugar.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kai’s grin looks forced as he pushes to his feet and heads for the door.
He lets it slam shut behind him, and Professor Rooke’s lips twitch at the sound. I almost drop my bag.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rooke asks as he sits on the edge of the desk, his hands clasped and dangling between his thighs.
I could tell him what just happened.
I should .
What Kai just did was aggressive, and violent, and…confusing as fuck.
Then there’s the way Professor Rooke is staring at me.
With this kind of fascination.
I guess he finds people interesting. Why else would he teach a class like this? But it makes me uneasy, because I don’t know if he sent Kai out of the room so I could be more open with him…or so that he could be alone with me.
If it’s true and I’m not just losing my mind, it kinda takes the sting out of what just happened.
This man? Interested in me?
Besides, I’m not about to get Kai into trouble until I get a handle on this situation. If he’s mad because I left Agony Hollow, then he’s pathetic. I had no control over that.
He must be having problems at home. I remember all the times he’d arrive at the creek with bruises on his arms or legs. I never asked him about them—and I probably should have—but I was a kid, and we were there to play and have fun and forget about the bad things, not wallow in them.
Maybe that’s why he never told me stuff, either. He was just as willing to play pretend the whole afternoon long.
If it’s not that, then all I can think is that after being in Hillside for years, and with me technically a Riversider, he’s finally bought into all that elitist bullshit this place is so notorious for.
“You look shaken,” Professor Rooke prompts.
“The curse strikes again,” I shrug, holding up my hands and smiling ruefully. “I’ll have to go to that crystal lady’s shop in town and get some smudge sticks or something.”
My professor doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. But I guess he dismisses whatever concerns he had about what he did or didn’t see, because he changes the subject.
“Did you have any questions about the coursework?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Pretty self-explanatory.”
“So you understand how to fill out your Activity Log?”
I open my mouth, trying to figure out how to word my response, and his eyes drop to my lips. It’s so brief, I might have imagined it, had I not felt a sudden tingle on my skin.
“Like, I guess, I just don’t know how…petty I should be?”
“Petty,” he repeats quietly.
“Like…” I groan softly. “I know you’re probably going to say that’s part of defining cruelty or whatever, but is a bird pooping on my car being cruel?”
There’s a glimmer in his brown eyes when he shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it?”
I slowly start nodding. “Okay. So…I’m gonna have to figure it out as I go along, kind of thing?”
“Now you’re getting it,” he says. “Google if you get stuck. That’s how your generation handles the tough stuff, right?”
I blink at him. “Um…I’m picking up on some vibes here.”
“Or maybe you’re just too sensitive.”
What the fuck?
Nothing has changed on his face. He’s looking back at me with the same resting-teach face he wears so often. Polite focus with just a touch of contempt.
But there was nothing polite about what he just said.
“Any further questions, Miss Lee?”
I want to say no, but after my conversation with the librarian yesterday, I’m out of options.
“One more.” I wince. “I’m struggling to hunt down the textbooks I need. The shop in town is sold out, and the library doesn’t have a spare copy. You wouldn’t happen to know?—?”
He tilts his head, leaning back a bit. “Is there a reason you left everything to the last minute like this, or do you think ‘disorganized procrastinator’ would look good on your LinkedIn profile?”
Woof.
Angry Professor is smoking hot, even when he’s dissing me like a boss. Maybe it’s the condescending look in his eyes that makes me want to prove I’m so much better than this.
Like, in any way he wants me to.
My insides are shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s from residual fear or something else.
I lick my lips, and take turns tugging my cardigan down my wrists. There’s a touch of red on my skin, just beneath the curve at the bottom of my thumb.
I yank the cardigan’s sleeves down far enough that I can grip them in my fist, and when I glance up, Professor Rooke’s gaze is sliding from my throat to my collarbone, to my shoulder where I’ve exposed my skin.
Is the AC on the fritz? It’s fucking hot in here.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Things have been a bit…rough lately.”
“My classroom isn’t a confession booth, Miss Lee. I won’t forgive you every time you throw a vague apology my way.”
He crosses his arms, drawing my gaze back to him. It feels like staring down a tiger when our eyes meet, but just like that tiger, I don’t dare look away in case he pounces.
“I don’t know what things were like at Ashwood High, but this isn’t community college. Our students are hardworking and dedicated. They give this school everything they have, and in return, we give them what they need to make a success of their lives.”
He pushes away from the desk so suddenly that I don’t have time to get out of the way, putting our bodies less than an inch away from each other. My neck cranes to look up at him as he towers over me.
“ Quid pro quo , Miss Lee. Understood?”
“Yes,” I murmur, a flush creeping up my neck at his proximity. But I’m locked in place, because I just caught his scent, and it’s doing infernal things to my body.
Leather, maybe from his car seats, dryer sheets, and an earthy, piney, musky undertone that must be his cologne or body wash.
And here I’m desperately hoping I smell like lemon-scented furniture polish instead of BO.
“Then we have an agreement.” His voice is so low, his lips are barely moving. I find my eyes drawn to them, and I can’t look away, even though I know he’s noticed, even though I know it’s wrong as fuck.
“I’ll turn you into a better human, and you’ll be grateful for the privilege.”