13. Haven
Chapter 13
Haven
I glare at my expression in my car’s rear-view mirror. Yesterday’s haze has solidified into a solid mass of pale gray clouds. The only light getting through is a pale shimmer.
It would be easy to blame the weather, but I look like a ghost because that’s how I fucking feel.
Another night of awful sleep. The few times I drifted off, the smallest sound would jolt me awake. Or my mind would summon a snapshot of Kai’s face. Either would be enough of a jump scare to send my heart racing.
I’m still trying to process what the fuck happened yesterday in the library.
No. I know what happened.
What it means.
If there was ever any doubt, it’s long gone now.
I burned my bridges when my best friend was still on the other side.
Kai Jordan despises me. He will not stop until I’m gone. Which is so fucked up, because if anyone should be angry, it’s me . He’s the one that broke a promise. He’s the one that chickened out like a loser.
But his hate is real, and it’s fucking terrifying.
But as the sun rose, as each hour passed, the intensity in his eyes takes on a different meaning.
Not anger.
Lust.
Like how my fear transformed into confusion, curiosity…then something else.
Who was mirroring who?
That’s what I’m struggling to process.
I sucked Kai’s dick…and I liked it.
That sentence sets my mind on fire, but I’m obviously a sucker for punishment because I keep replaying it.
Especially the last part.
My underwear was so soaked when I got back to my car, I didn’t want to sit down in case it would get on the seat. But just like I sucked his dick when I didn’t want to, I sat down when I didn’t want to, and I tore out of AHC’s parking lot like a wayward angel fleeing hell.
I don’t know what made me come back.
Maybe, like yesterday, I think if I wait long enough, I can summon up the courage I need to face Kai’s wrath again.
Or, maybe, it’s his wrath I’m after.
I always knew he was better than me. The way he kept his shit together, even when I knew he had it worse. How he’d be brave, and strong, and proud all the time, and I was pathetic and weak and ashamed.
All. The. Time.
Except when he made me smile, or laugh.
I lived for our time together. I’d squeeze my hands into tiny fists and wish the second hand of the clock to stream around and around in a blur.
Just so I could be with him again.
So, yeah, maybe that’s why I’m in the one place I shouldn’t be.
Because if Kai truly hates me as much as he says, then there’s no way we’ll ever be together.
Which mean I don’t have to apologize for falling in love with him.
I glance at the clock on my car’s dashboard. Professor Rooke’s class starts in thirty minutes.
There’s no way I’m going to make it. I can’t even convince myself to open the car door and step outside. This dented up sedan has become my little fort.
Outside, bad. Inside, good. Or, at least, safe.
Shit. Kai still has my copy of The Lucifer Effect. Was Professor Rooke being serious when he said not to bother showing up if we hadn’t read the first five chapters?
Despite all my doubts, despite all my fear, I play the part of dutiful student, and scrape together my stuff for class. Slipping my notepad into the AHC tote, my pen. I hesitate when I pick up the Activity Log.
There’s a queasy feeling in my stomach when I flip it open.
The first fresh page glares up at me.
I haven’t submitted a photo like I was supposed to. Haven’t written a single thing down in this book.
The sound of my dismal little chuckle is as pathetic as I am.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I can’t get the grade I need to pass. You’d swear I don’t even want to graduate. Sure, I’ve started work on some of my other assignments. But Professor Rooke’s class is one of my prerequisites. If I fail, I’m out on my ass.
I dig my pen out of the tote bag and yank the lid off with my teeth, staring down at the blank page like it’s Kai’s smirking face. The nib of the pen leaves a dent in the page as I write with slow, furious intent.
Age: 5
Act: boy pushes me into mud puddle
Intent: a joke / emb shame
Impact: scraped hands and knees. clothes full of mud. dad was mad at me. cried.
My hand is shaking, but I keep going.
Interpretation: it wasn’t funny it hurt and got me into trouble + he knew it would because he did it a lot
CRUEL
I blow out a breath.
Fuck, that felt good, especially scrawling that last word. I go over it again, trying to make it neater and less serial-killery.
Age: 7
Act: boy ties me to tree
Intent: playing pretend / punishment
Impact: rope left marks. was scared he would leave me like that. cried. yelled until throat was sore.
Interpretation: he was mad at me because I laughed at him and this was his punishment two days later - he loved playing the long game
CRUEL!
On and on I go, my pen silent as I dredge up memories I didn’t realize I’d buried so deep.
I run out of steam and pause, pushing the pen in and out of its lid where I still have it trapped between my teeth. I stop when I miss my mark and stab myself in the mouth.
“Fuck.” I swipe at my lips and turn to a new page. I’ve already filled six pages. I run my hand down the clean page, stalling for a long moment before putting pen to paper again.
Age: 4
Act: dad locks me?—
There’s a rap on my car window. “Miss Lee?”
“Fuck!” I yelp, spinning to face the window. I swear I can feel the color draining from my face as I spot Professor Rooke standing outside my car.
Of course.
Because Haven’s an idiot, and gets so lost bitterly rehashing the past that she forgets she’s a sitting duck. I reluctantly roll down the window, wincing when it squeaks loudly.
“Hi,” I mutter, squinting up at Professor Rooke.
He leans in, laying his arm on the top of my car. Thank God he’s on this side—there are still streaks of apple pie on the passenger door. The faint creases at the corner of his eyes deepen as he narrows them.
“We’re both going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”
I drop my gaze. “Oh, yeah, um…”
“I see you’ve made some progress on your journal.”
My eyes flit back to him. He’s staring at the open book in my lap. I hurriedly snap it shut, and then slip it into my tote.
“Yeah, uh, I…” I mumble, because apparently I’ve lost the ability to speak in full sentences.
“Good. It almost makes up for the fact that you haven’t submitted your art assignment yet.”
Then he opens my car door and holds out an arm like he has every right to invade my fucking privacy, but he’ll be a gentleman about it. Which somehow activates my Disney princess mind-control setting, because I just grab my shit and get out. Like this is just a normal day in the life of a college kid, when he’s walking me to the executioner’s block.
“I, uh, sorry, my phone…”
He shuts my car door and then looks at, then at me, obviously waiting. “Aren’t you going to lock your car?”
“Ha!” I panic at how weird I sound. “Like there’s anything to steal in there. Your shoes cost more than the car and everything in it.”
I spin away from him, feeling my face turn crimson.
Age: 19
Act: girl calls herself out like a loser
Intent: who the fuck knows
Impact: utter mortification
Interpretation: Haven can’t handle her shit in front of hot professor and only has herself to blame
CRUEL LAME
He says nothing, because not everyone at this school is a sadist. I try to fan myself without him noticing. We walk toward AHC, his heavier footfalls bracketing mine as I take two steps for each of his. I blame my flip-flops. One of them is on its last flop, and I keep having to wiggle my toes around to keep it on my foot.
“You do have one, don’t you?”
For a second, I think he’s asking if I have another shoe. “Oh, phone? Yeah? Of course.” I pull it out of my tote as evidence. “I, uh, lost my charger. Only got a new one today.” The lie comes easily, because I’m just dipping into past experience.
I hate phones.
Things were better before they were around. Now I have all this extra responsibility. Like remembering to charge it, trying not to drop it face first on the curb, keeping food off it when I eat and try to read a text message at the same time.
And the cheap ones are so shitty. I assume.
“Then I expect your submission to reach me before the end of the day.”
Crunch-crunchety-crunchety-crunch.
A trio of students walking much faster than us zoom past, one of them glancing back to get a look at Rooke. When he makes eye contact, she bites her lip and quickly looks away, giggling.
She must be at least a year older than me. Makes me feel so much better, knowing a sophomore can’t keep it together any better than I can.
“Are you going to tell me why you skipped class yesterday?”
I keep looking straight ahead, lest I blush again. “Sorry. And…I know you’re sick of hearing my apologies.” I swipe my hand out. “I’m not confessing, and not expecting forgiveness.”
“Then how does this play out, Miss Lee?”
We ascend the steps into AHC, and my eyes automatically lock onto Nora as she peeks over the counter to see who’s coming inside. She smiles at me, and even gives a little wriggle of her fingertips, but that smile freezes when she sees Professor Rooke.
Then she ducks her head down like she doesn’t want to make eye contact.
Wow. That wasn’t weird at all.
“I’m not sure. I know I’m on my last strike, and…” Fuck, what am I supposed to say?
I clamp down on the inside of my lip, desperately trying to think my way out of this. Professor Rooke’s given me a small bump of courage, enough that I didn’t pee myself as we crossed the threshold.
But the cowardice is starting to set in again.
If Kai sees me…
And I know he will, because he’s Professor Rooke’s fucking TA.
I blow out a breath, not realizing how loud it is in the hushed reception area as we head for the stairs to the first floor.
“It’s hard not to take this personally.”
My head whips to the side, neck craning so I can look up at my teacher. “What?”
He keeps his eyes focused ahead, his strong jaw and sloping nose in stark profile against the cream-colored wallpaper beside him. “I’ve checked in with some of your other teachers. You’ve attended most of their classes. Handed in assignments. You even signed up for an after-hours group discussion for your Urban Studies class.”
Another flush of heat creeps up my neck. How am I supposed to explain to him it was easier going to those classes without the threat of Kai breathing down my neck?
Goddamn it, every time I think about Kai, I tingle.
Not in a cutesy, butterflies in my belly, kind of way, but a lewd and disturbing, I need dick, kind of way.
“Professor Rooke, I wish I could explain, but?—”
There are a few more students around, most hurrying to class. We reach the landing and turn the corner, and when I risk a glance up at Professor Rooke, I wish I hadn’t.
He’s wearing a stony expression. When he looks back at me, his usual warm brown eyes are cold, and his voice is just as unyielding as he searches my face.
“I hate to be dramatic, Miss Lee, but I suggest you try very hard, because your grade is…”
His eyes flinch, and his words trail off.
A student speed-walks past us muttering, “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”
Rooke’s eyes dart up to them, then back to me. He grabs my arm and pulls me with him as he backs up into the small seating area on the first landing where I stood staring out the window on my first day at AHC.
The only light in this area comes from the tall, narrow window and whatever makes its way up the stairs from the reception area below. None of it is enough to do more than silhouette us and blur the edges of the shadows between the overstuffed wingback chairs and the small, carved coffee table.
“What’s that?” I guess that’s why Professor Rooke grabs my chin and turns my head to the window. So he can get a better look.
I’m so surprised, I let him. And then I’m too embarrassed to pull away, so he can tilt my face any which way he pleases.
“Um…”
“Is that a bruise?” I’m not imagining the coldness in his voice now. It’s as blatant as a steel rod sticking up through concrete.
Shit, shit, shit.
I pull my chin away, rubbing at the spot. “Is what?”
There’s a soft huff of air that sounds condescending as fuck. “Now you’re trying to gaslight me, Miss Lee?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, or what that even means. Context, sure. He’s angry that I’m trying to hide something as blatant as a bruise.
“You have no idea how clumsy I am,” I say through a laugh.
He grabs me again, this time on my bottom lip. I pull away so fast it’s like a thousand volts went through me. Because that’s what it felt like.
“Ink stains on your lip, yes. But I know clumsy, and you’re not it.”
“Oh, yeah?” I rummage in my tote, glaring up defiantly at him as I pull out my phone. “Then explain this.” I show him the screen spider webbed with cracks. “I spend more time picking it up than I do actually using it.”
As if to illustrate my point, the phone falls on the floor when I try to slip it back into my tote.
I point at it.
My professor ignores it.
“The only way you’ll ever be able to fight the monsters hiding under your bed is if you crawl in there with a flashlight,” he says.
I shake my head, laugh as I look away. Because, fuck, if only he knew how funny it really was.
Monsters hiding under my bed?
More like sadists lurking in the shadows behind the diner where I work.
“Yeah, I’m not going to class.” I tighten the grip on my tote bag as I bend to pick up my phone. “I don’t have the book, I haven’t read the chapters, and I’m pretty sure I’m already failing. Might as well just climb in my car and get the fuck out of dodge while I still have gas in the tank.”
When I stand, he’s staring at me with a deadpan expression.
“I’m picking up a vibe,” he says.
This time I snort, throwing my head back for a second before facing him. “Why do you care, huh?” I ask, hair flopping against my neck as I slowly shake my head. “Why the hell do you care so much about a nobody like me?”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then dart up to my eyes. He licks his thumb, and for a second I wonder if it looked that fucking sexy when I did it.
Under the table.
Just as I was about to shove my thumb up Kai’s ass.
He would have deserved it after all the shit he’s pulled.
I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance.
“I was nobody too, once.” He reaches out, pausing when I lean back, and then catches my bottom lip with his finger, brushing it hard with the pad of his thumb. “So you’re going to my class, and you’re going to catch up on your assignments, and you’re not going to look a damn gift horse in the mouth.”
I touch my mouth, the rest of my body immobilized by shock.
As if in explanation, he gives me a faint smile.
“My apologies, Miss Lee. That ink was incredibly distracting.”