18. Haven
Chapter 18
Haven
I nearly mow down Melissa with my car as I’m driving out of AHC’s parking lot. The loud ping on my phone has my head swiveling down like one of Pavlov’s dogs instead of watching the road. Thank God I’m not going fast.
My car skids on the gravel. Melissa turns to stare at me, her hair taking a moment to stop moving. Then she points a long fingernail, her shoes crunching over the gravel as she walks to my door.
I reluctantly roll down my window. “I almost killed you.”
“I wouldn’t, yet. We have an assignment.”
“What?”
She flicks her hand. “Got distracted by my ex’s DMs. Fucking man child.” She grimaces. “Now everyone’s paired up except us.” She ducks her head and stares into my car.
I try not to wither into a husk, because I know it looks like shit in here.
“You can drive with me,” she decides.
“Where?” Why is everyone trying to get me into a car with them today? Do I have a ‘kidnap me’ sign taped to my back or something?
“Gamma Alpha Zeta. My sorority house?” She rolls her eyes. “Free food. Free booze. Clean bathrooms.”
“What, now? I can’t. I have work.”
“Like, studying?”
“No, work work. Like, employee, boss, job?”
“Work,” Melissa repeats, like the word is a foreign concept…which it probably is. “Oh.” She draws back from my window like being employed is contagious and she hasn’t had her vaccinations yet.
“Sorry.” I shrug.
“Well, tomorrow night then. Yeah.” She nods like she’s trying to convince herself. “I could go out, after.” She holds out her hands. “You could…come with…maybe.”
“I have work. Tonight and tomorrow night.”
“But it’s Friday.”
“I work weekends too.”
She straightens, looks away, but I hear her soft, “Man.”
Then she ducks down again. “I’m not going to fail Rooke’s class because you’re working. Call in sick.”
I stare at her, because it hits me then what a privileged life Melissa Parker must have led. She’s got to know that I work for tips, right? That I don’t get paid unless I’m there…to earn those tips.
But then I think about Kai waiting for me outside the diner.
“Free food and booze?” I say, trying to make it sound more about the alcohol.
Melissa flashes me a smile. “Oh yeah.”
“Tonight, then. I’ll just need to get someone to fill my shift.” She just stands there, like she’s waiting for me to make the call. “And I have to go park my car again,” I add.
“Fine, yeah.” She walks, pointing to the other side of the lot. “I’m in the Aston.”
Melissa’s white Aston Martin is gorgeous, sleek, and almost too perfect. Just like her. I want to hate her for it, but she’s so methodical about how she treats her things. I want to believe she respects her possessions.
Somehow, that makes it okay. Like she’s allowed to be this filthy rich because she doesn’t take things for granted.
Guess Kai’s imagination rubbed off on me.
But in the five minutes walk to the GAZ house, I realize she’s just as ridiculously entitled as I first thought.
I stare up at the double-story building, then glance over at my shoulder where the roof of AHC is still visible through the tree.
“Is it that you don’t like walking, or…?”
“Paving ruins my shoes,” she says. “And don’t get me started on dog shit. I stepped in some once. Still trying to get the smell out of my nose.”
It’s the most enthusiastic I’ve ever heard her.
Talking about dog shit.
Wow.
Explains why she has this slightly disgusted look on her face most of the time. But like she said, we’re stuck with each other.
A girl rushes past us out of the front door as we come inside, cordless headphones clapped to her ears and an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.
When she sees Melissa, she snatches the smoke from her lips. “Tiffany’s home!” she hisses, throwing an apprehensive glance over her shoulder before speed-walking down the street.
“Tiffany?”
“House mother. Despises smoking.” Melissa’s arm props up, her laptop bag swinging from the crook of her elbow. “Come on.”
We walk through tall columns connecting the lower porch with the roof of the red-bricked sorority house. White trim on the windows and front door, and large Greek letters in white give the building a polished, almost regal vibe.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she says, pointing to the staircase sweeping up to the first floor. I glance around as we pass through, spotting a pair of girls seated on the floor beside a coffee table near an enormous fireplace. They’re busy giggling and sharing a bowl of popcorn as they peek at each other’s phones.
Melissa leads me down a hall and through one of the many white-painted doors on this floor. There are two beds, each dressed in pretty quilts and matching pillowcases. There’s a unicorn plushie on one bed, but Melissa heads for the other side of the room, setting her laptop bag down on the foot of a floral-quilted bed.
“ Domus mea, domus tua ,” she says.
“ Gesundheit .”
“It means, my house is your house. In Latin. You know, because we’re a Greek sorority?” When I just keep staring at her, she rolls her eyes. “Wine or beer or shots?”
I laugh, but now she’s just staring at me, waiting. “Uh…soda?”
She chuckles dryly. “Right. ‘Cos it’s so bad for us.”
When she realizes I’m being serious, she murmurs, “God, really?”
She sighs as she struts away.
Am I the only student around here who doesn’t drink?
I perch on the edge of the quilted bed, scanning the room.
Gun to my head, I’d pick Basti— Professor Rooke’s Fortress of Solitude to this patterned nightmare. There’s a pattern on everything. The wallpaper, the carpet, the quilted bedspreads.
Why is there a rug on top of the carpet?
Was the carpet not thick enough? Warm enough? Colorful enough?
I remember I have an unread message and pull my phone out to check.
@rooke.bastian
Thank you for your submission.
Mercy, how professional of him.
I’m sneering as I shove the phone back in my tote bag.
Why wouldn’t he be professional, Haven? He’s your teacher, for heaven’s sake.
Because he put bourbon in my cocoa?
Because he keeps prying into my private life?
Because he’s so fucking gorgeous that all I can think about when I’m with him is what it would feel like to have those strong, expressive hands sliding down my body?
I take my phone out again, stare at the message.
Hesitate.
I should apologize. He went out of his way for me today.
I spend minutes agonizing about what I should say before finally typing out a message. Then another. And another.
@bastian.rooke
Thank you for your submission.
@lee.haven
Sorry about today.
Thx for the book.
And the cocoa.
Would have been better without the booze though. XD
I add a silly face emoji at the end, and almost delete the entire message when Melissa walks back into the room with a tray.
“Hope you’re okay with the floor. I don’t want ants in the bed.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I glance down at my last message, and hit send.
“Grab those cushions.” She points with her chin as she bends to set the tray down on the patterned rug. I grab two scatter cushions from her bed and hand her one as I come to sit in front of her.
There’s a can of orange soda, a can of diet cola, and three bowls of snacks on the tray. Oreos, pretzels, and popcorn.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing an Oreo before I can second guess myself.
“There’ll be proper food soon,” she says, dismissing the snacks with a wave. “Let’s see what fresh hell Professor Rooke has cooked up for us.”
I giggle at that, and she flashes another one of her micro smiles as she fetches her envelope out of her laptop bag. Must be university stationery, because there’s a small AHC logo stamped near one corner.
“Oh, I got one too.”
She waves a hand. “Probably the same.” Then her eyes go wide. “But we’ll check, after. Because Rooke, right? Fuck.” She says it in that same way, drawing out the word into a groan.
I frown at her. “Okay, what am I missing?”
She shrugs as she tears open her envelope. “That he’s fucked in the head, but so smart and good looking, no one cares?”
I laugh, but the sound is uneasy.
“Ugh, this is going to take long.” She shakes out the folded paper. “Cruel Consequences.” Rolls her eyes. “He’s so dramatic.”
She scans the page, grabbing a pretzel to nibble on while I try not to die of curiosity. Thankfully, she’s a fast reader.
“Oh, okay. So it’s like a twist on Truth or Dare.” She hands me the paper and then upends the envelope on her palm. A set of laminated cards fall out, bound with a red elastic band, slips of paper, and a red sticker.
I skim the instructions.
We roll a die—not included, thanks Professor—to see who starts. Then we draw a card and have to decide to enact a Cruelty on our partner, or suffer the Consequence. Then we move to the next card and repeat the process.
If either of us refuses to do a card, we both fail.
If we don’t turn in the video, we both fail.
And finally, if we don’t have fun with it , we both fail.
“We have to record this?”
“I guess it was that or doing it in front of the class,” Melissa says, already glancing around for a place to set up her phone.
I don’t know what this is, but she’s right. We’re not exactly BFFs or anything, but at least Melissa and I have said a few words to each other. Standing up in front of a class full of strangers would have been terrifying.
And then there’s Kai, of course…
And Professor Rooke.
“Yeah, this is much better.”
Melissa sets up her phone on the dresser, aiming it toward the floor where we’re sitting. “Okay, ready?”
I nod, and she comes to take a seat in front of me.
“Dice?”
She was taking a sip of her cola and just shakes her head. “Rock, paper scissors.”
“Yeah, cool.”
She wins and wriggles her shoulders victoriously as she pulls the elastic off the stack of laminated cards. There’s a big ONE on the first card, and she lifts it to read what’s on the other side.
“Huh.” She shrugs as she hands over the card. “Yeah, I’m not dying of salmonella.”
I frown at her. Look at the card. My eyebrows shoot up.
Cruelty:
Read your partner’s last five text messages out loud.
Consequence:
Eat a raw egg, shell and all.
“Seriously?” I groan.
Melissa shrugs again and holds out her hand. “Give.”
“This is an invasion of privacy.” I cringe, but hand over my phone, doing my level best not to look toward the dresser as I take a sip of soda.
Melissa glances up at me after a few seconds. “This a new phone or something? There’s nothing on here.”
She smiles when she sees my exasperated expression, and surprisingly, it lasts longer than a millisecond this time. Then her smile fades, and she gives me a hard stare.
“Really?” She cocks her head at me, her red hair flat against her cheek. “Pretending to be a goody two shoes, and then I find this?”
Heat surges up my neck. “I’m not?—“
“Oh my God, are you blushing? What is this, sixteenth century Verona? Fuck it. We’re too sober for this.” Melissa gets to her feet and goes to her closet. My gaze follows her until I realize I’m staring point blank at the camera. I quickly avert my eyes, keeping them fixed on the snacks until she’s sitting in front of me again.
She sets two plastic shot glasses down on the envelope and pours us each a tequila.
When I groan, she tuts me with a finger.
“When did this turn into a drinking game?” I say as I hold up the shot glass.
“When he told us to ‘have fun with it.’”
“Shit,” I murmur.
We tap our glasses and throw back the tequila.
It’s like swallowing oil. Only, someone set it on fire first.
“So, chronologically from the fifth message,” Melissa says, holding up my phone again. She glances toward the dresser. “Names have been changed to protect the innocent.”
That makes me giggle, because thinking of Professor Rooke as innocent is hilarious.
“Person one. Thank you for your submission. Person two. Sorry about today.”
She reads the rest of the messages while I try not to spontaneously combust. Then she blows out a breath and gives me back my phone. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
I clap my hands over my face when she wins again. “This sucks!”
She rubs her hands, clicking two of her rings together, then shakes them out and draws the next card.
“Huh…” Melissa looks over at me, eyes narrowed. “Pour us a shot.”
I don’t argue. Judging from her expression, she’s making a hard decision. We clink our tiny glasses and pour the liquid down our throats. She shudders, and I gag.
“Yeah, fuck that,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I’ll suffer the consequence.”
“Really?”
She holds the card out to me between two fingers. “Yeah. I got this.” Then she leans forward and closes her eyes like she’s preparing for something.
I glance down at the card, and my lips purse into a bemused smile.
Aw.
Cruelty:
Review your partner’s appearance out loud in the most critical light possible.
Consequence:
Allow your partner to slap you across the face.
I rub my hands together and shake them out, just like she did.
Melissa peeks at me. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Invasion of privacy sucks ,” I say with a grin.
“Yeah, well, I like it rough some—” She cuts off with a gasp as my palm connects with her cheek.
I didn’t mean to hit her so hard. The way her neck snaps to the side, it’s like her head almost came off.
“Shit, are you okay?” I scramble forward, grabbing her shoulder.
She knocks my arm away. “Do I have a hand print?” she asks, straightening as she gingerly touches her face.
My lips twist. “Kinda.”
“Damn, girl. Remind me never to piss you off.” She gives me an admiring look, and then holds out her arm, getting ready for the next round.
I crow out in victory when I win, crack my knuckles, and slowly ease the third card off the stack.
Straightening my arms and flicking my hand, I wriggle on my cushion to get comfy?—
“Oh my God, just do it already.” Melissa’s half-yelling, but there’s a smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.
I’m full on smiling, so fucking happy that I finally have the upper?—
Shit.
“Shit.”
“What? What is it?” Melissa scans my face and then holds out her hand. “No, wait. I don’t like that,” she says, circling a finger near my face. “Shot.”
She pours us each another shot. We clink, we swallow.
“Fuck!” I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut against the burn.
I’m definitely feeling it. I grab an Oreo, crunching on it as I show Melissa the card.
She stares at it, horrified. “Um…I let you slap me.”
I laugh, almost choking on a cookie crumb. “You didn’t let me do anything. You chose a slap.”
She lifts a hand to the red handprint on her cheek. “Haven, please.”
“God, come on. No begging.”
“You can’t—“ She cuts off with a jerk when I growl.
“No, of course I can’t. Who in their right mind would?” I roll my eyes at her, tossing down the card between us. “Fuck.”
Cruelty:
Write a cruel word on your partner’s cheek with a permanent marker.
Consequence:
Relive your most recent sexual encounter in graphic detail.
We both stare at the card.
“I mean…can he do shit like this?” I mutter softly so my voice won’t get picked up by Melissa’s phone.
“Stories I’ve heard?” Melissa’s eyes are round when I glance up at her. “He’s done much worse.”
“What?”
She glances over at her phone. “I need to go pee,” she says loudly. “Gonna hit pause quick.”
On the second try, she gets to her feet, and goes to fetch her phone. I watch her with a cold, sinking feeling in my stomach that has nothing to do with the three shots of tequila simmering down there.
She taps on her phone, and then holds up a finger, leaning in with a serious look on her face. “This is just what I’ve heard, okay? Could all be rumor.”
“Tell me,” I snap.
“Okay, so, one of my sorority sisters told me that Rooke moved to Agony Hollow because he fucked up so bad at the last college he was at.”
“Fucked up how?”
“He was experimenting with his students.”
I lean back. “Like…in a laboratory?”
She laughs. “No, like psychologically.” She taps her temple. “Manipulation. Gaslighting.” She flicks the card on the floor between us. “Weird games and assignments?” A shrug. “I mean, it could be total bullshit, but you’ve met him.”
The side of her mouth lifts. “You’ve been alone with him.”
I hold out my hand. “Stop it. It wasn’t like that. He gave me a book. The Lucifer Effect. For class.” I realize I’m blabbing, and press my lips closed.
Melissa sits back, taking a deep breath. “Fuck it, I’m not judging, Haven. God knows I’ve done some questionable shit in my life.” For a moment, she looks lost, like she opened a door expecting to see stairs, and only found a wall behind it.
“Experiments?” I whisper. “Really?”
She snaps out of her thoughts with a shake of her head. “Yeah, really. Okay, let’s do this.” She grabs her phone, crawls over to the dresser, and goes to her knees to set it up.
Then she crawls back.
“Thanks, Haven,” she says woodenly, and much too loudly. “I feel so much better now.”
I giggle.
I can’t help it.
And Melissa puts her fingers over her mouth like she’s trying to hold back a laugh too.
We both wave at each other, and then I point to the card. “I will face the consequences!”
She mock-gasps, and then giggles.
But then I realize what I’m about to say, and my cheeks start to glow. “So…uh…there was this guy…”
“A guy, okay,” she repeats, trying to keep a straight face. “A good looking guy, at least?”
“Yeah, definitely.” I hear my words echo back and bite the inside of my lip. But the tequila gives me a little more courage, and the alternative is defiling Melissa’s immaculate face with a permanent marker.
Low blow, Bastian.
Low fucking blow.
But there’s no way I’m telling anyone about what happened in the library with Kai. I mean, who’s going to know if I lie? All this exercise is about is figuring out if you’d rather hurt yourself or someone else. As long as I make it convincing, no one’s going to know.
Kai’s not the only one with an imagination. The secret, I’ve found, is adding just enough truth to make it resonate.
“Okay, so, nothing major,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “I, uh, gave a guy head in his car.” I let out a rush of breath, and hold out my hand for our next round of rock, paper, scissors.
“Oh, no, missy.” Melissa picks up the card and points out a word. “Graphic. Graphic detail.”
I grab the front of my throat, shaking my head.
Her eyes go wide. “Do I need to find a marker?”
“Geez, fine! It, it happened between classes, and it was this spur-of-the-moment thing, okay? We were talking, things got heated. He pulled out his…dick and told me to suck it. So I did.”
Melissa giggles like a demon. “And then?”
“And then what?”
She lifts her shoulders. “Did he come? Did you swallow? Was it good? Are you two getting married now?” She’s giggling so much I can barely hear what she’s saying, but her laughter—and her brashness—is infectious.
“Yes, yes, hell yes, and fuck no.”
We both collapse into giggles, Melissa slapping at me and calling me a slut between gales of laughter.
When we finally gather ourselves, Melissa’s wiping tears from her eyes, streaking her mascara, and I’m pressing the back of my hands against my cheeks, trying to cool them down.
“Okay, okay.” I blow out a breath. “Second last round.”
Melissa wins, draws a card, and takes a slow pull of air through pursed lips.
That’s when I know it’s bad.
“Listen, Haven,” she says, looking up as she pats her fingertip under one eye. “We had a good run, but?—”
“Come on,” I mutter, snatching the card out of her hand.
I stare at it. Then at her.
She shrugs. “Like…it’s just not going to happen, you know?”
I sigh, the sound interrupted by a slightly terrified giggle. “Yeah, I know.”
“Wait, wait!” She pours us each a shot of tequila and holds it out for a toast. “To retaining our sanity this semester.”
We clink our glasses, my expression as serious as hers, and then I slowly lean forward until I’m on my knees.
I feel like I’m waiting for a bullet in the back of my head.
Melissa watches me, tapping her nail against the laminated card as she thinks. “Okay, okay.” She picks up my phone, aims it at me, and says, “Father forgive me, for I have sinned.”
I cringe. “Really? You’re bringing religion into this?”
She slashes out a hand. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I have slept with one of my teachers?—”
I scramble up so fast, the room spins. “No way!” I point at her. “No fucking way.”
“The whole point of this game is that you don’t get to decide how cruel I can be.”
“Melissa, no. I’m not saying that.”
“It’s a lie,” she groans. “It even says so on the card thingy.”
“Yeah? But you have to post it somewhere public.”
“I’ll hashtag it.” She smiles like a fucking shark. “Hashtag lies. Hashtag bullcrap. Hashtag?—”
“I could get expelled.”
“What? Oh, please.” She waves a hand, dropping my phone so she can stare at me. “Students fuck faculty all the time. As long as it’s not blatant that you got better grades because of it, and you don’t rub it in the dean’s face, no one gives a shit.”
She lifts my phone again. “We’re all adults here.” Her giggle is pure evil.
“Come up with something else.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Fine you fucking drama queen.” She glances away, and then focuses my phone on me again. “Okay, okay. Say you’ve stolen something.”
“Like what?”
“Like…someone’s wallet.”
My arms constrict even tighter around my chest. “Fuck off.”
“Seriously?”
I look away, fuming. “Delete your socials,” I tell her.
“ You can’t make me suffer a consequence.”
“Well, I’m not letting you be cruel to me, either.”
Melissa scoffs, then looks taken aback when I just keep staring at her. “Haven, come on. I’m not deleting my accounts. They’re…” she swallows. “I use them to network and stuff.” Her chin lifts. “You wouldn’t understand. I mean, you have like a total of five messages on your phone. Like, ever.”
“It’s a new phone,” I grate.
Melissa looks away, and then her shoulders slump. “Wow.”
“What?”
She’s shaking her head. “I guess those weren’t rumors,” she whispers, going over to her phone to press pause.
When she looks at me over her shoulder, there’s a crease of concern between her brows. “Is it just me, or is this starting to feel like some kind of fucked up experiment?”
I shake off my irritation and nod at her. “Yeah, shit. That went from zero to forty in like two seconds.” I drop my head, rub my eyelids, wave her over. “You’re right, I’m being a drama queen. I’ll say the thing about stealing the wallet.”
“Yeah, fuck that,” she says, then switches the camera to selfie mode. “Hey, Professor, so I can’t exactly film this since it’s happening on my phone, but I’ll do a screenshot for you and include it in the submission.”
“Melissa?” I push to my feet. “What are you doing?”
She shrugs, but her eyes are on her phone. “I don’t even mind. Hardly go in this account anymore because of Man-Child’s DMs.” She snorts. “Jesus, forty-seven. And I checked this like two days ago. Can you believe this shit?”
Her nails tap against the glass as she busies herself on her phone, then she sets it up on the dresser again.
“Right, last round. You ready, Haven?”
“You seriously just deleted your account?”
She shrugs. “Was time for a detox, anyway.”
I win the next round of rock, paper, scissors, but I don’t feel happy about it. My stomach is churning so much, it’s turned everything inside to butter.
“Aw, fuck,” I mutter when I read the last card. “This is bullshit.”
Melissa sits up prim and proper, watching me with glassy eyes. “That bad, huh?”
I blow out a breath, then glance at the two slips of papers and the sticker that fell out earlier when Melissa upended the envelope.
Why does it feel like that happened a fucking century ago?
Wild Card:
Write down a secret your partner hides from others.
Seal it inside the envelope without letting them see.
You may not discuss this card.
The person who reveals the weakest secret will fail this round.
Both participants must play this round, or forfeit the entire game.
“Shit,” Melissa mutters, and then glances up at me. There’s still a tiny smudge of mascara under one eye. “Forfeit means failing his class.”
“But what the hell does failing this round mean?”
She shrugs. “I mean, I doubt he could actually kick someone out of his class. But our grades are totally in his control.” She rolls her eyes, sighing. “Should’ve sent him that titty shot. Maybe I still can. Soften the blow.” Her eyes fly open as she starts unbuttoning her shirt. “Will you help me take a good pic? I can never get the angle right.”
I wave at her to stop. “No one’s sending nude photos. We got this.”
I try to sound chipper, but I’m dying inside. We barely know each other…but I know she had a disastrous breakup and calls her ex a man-child. Is that a secret, though? And worse than whatever she can figure out about me?
“You’re right.” She stands to fetch two pens out of her laptop bag and hands me one. “So what are you thinking? Are we going nuclear, or just airing some dirty laundry?”
“We can’t discuss it,” I mumble, glancing over at her phone.
“Damn it.” She taps her pen against the piece of paper as she takes her seat in front of me again. “Okay, but for the record, this is super unfair. You’re obviously a fucking angel, and I’ve given you more than enough ammunition to win.”
She scrawls something on her paper and folds it, quickly slipping it into the envelope.
God. I don’t want to fail. I guess there’s no way Professor Rooke will be able to fact check all these entries, right? It’s probably more about the intent behind this round than the actual impact.
That’s what I tell myself as I gather at the only flimsy straw I have and write down something that might be a complete lie.
Sent nude pics to a teacher.
I mean, she must have done it once before, right? I fold the paper and put it in the envelope. She seals it with the sticker and swipes her hand over the seal.
“You’ll stay for dinner, right?”
My lips purse as I glance up at her. “Um…yeah. If you still want me to.”
“Of course.” She frowns a little like she’s reached a unanimous decision. “I think we could be friends.”
“Yeah?” I laugh. “I’d suggest you do a sanity check in the morning. Could be the trauma bonding talking.”