Lily
By the end of the week, I’ve stopped trembling every time our paths cross. I duck behind a door or a vending machine once or twice when I spot him at a corner, but I’m not proud of it.
Two weeks later, I’m baffled.
A month after that, I’m pissed off. Enough to do the unthinkable after one too many beers with Jack and Olivia.
Me: So, are you ever going to claim your reward?
I know I shouldn’t text him. There could be a plethora of reasons why he hasn’t demanded his dues.
Maybe he got a girlfriend. Maybe he never intended to do anything in the first place and just wanted to see me squirm.
If he’s forgotten all about me, it’s a good thing.
But having those three blowjobs over my head is driving me insane.
Anyway, I’ve sent the message and it’s too late to take it back: the little dots tell me that he’s seen it, and he’s replying to it.
I clutch the device, clinging to it like a lifeline, or potentially a dangerous animal—not quite sure which until his message appears.
Cross: Lily Trueman. Done jumping into dumpsters to avoid me?
My eye twitches. That only happened once—and I hid behind the dumpster, not in it. I’d rather eat my own elbow than admit to it, though.
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Cross: I’m not judging this brand of cowardice nearly as much as I judged the dumpster diving.
I groan out loud, catching Liv’s attention. “What’s up?”
I didn’t completely stop being social after the great disaster that was my first semester performance.
I still hang out with my friends, and head out of town around once a month for a convention or a fair, but I'm taking my grades a hell of a lot more seriously, hence why while we’re all drinking in my dorm room. We’re doing it while cramming.
By the sound of it, my frustration has managed to tear her away from thermodynamics. Liv’s studying chemistry, which means I understand about one word out of ten when she starts talking about her classes. We only have a couple of lectures in common.
“Just some guy,” I hedge, biting my lip.
“Hector?” she asks.
That catches Jack’s attention. “You know a Hector? That’s a bit of a stupid name.”
“A lot of the legacies have stupid names,” I reply, thinking to the Markus, Magnus, Marius, and Darius on campus. “But hey, they pull it off. I don’t think I know a Hector, though.”
“Of course you know Hector Cross.” Liv rolls her eyes. “His friends are always giving us a hard time in the library, aren’t they?” She flushes. “Well, me more than us.”
That’s true. One of the reasons we tend to study in the dorms was because the jocks of Rothford have taken a liking to Liv, for some reason. I think that’s because she dissolves into a babbling, blushing mess, and that entertains them. Dicks.
“Wait, Cross’s first name is Hector?” I laugh, my hands typing.
Me: Well I’m judging anyone who thought Hector was a decent name. Overcompensating much?
Cross: Careful now. My mom chose that name for me. The same woman who convinced the board to take pity on a certain loser last semester.
I blush, feeling foolish for teasing him over something he had no control or say in. And he has the sense to go by Cross, so clearly he knows his name sucks. Before I manage to find the words to apologize, a new message pops on the screen.
Cross: You know what, I was going to let you off that deal, but I’ve changed my mind. You can choke on my cock and decide if I have anything to overcompensate for.
I gasp as I read, and read again.
Fuck.
Me: Now?
It’s almost midnight on a Friday, surely he has better things to do.
Like puck bunnies. Although our team sucks ass, they still have a huge line of fans—mostly because most of the players are legacies.
Hot, young, unattached trust fund brats always get plenty of attention regardless of their talent.
Cross: Now. Come to the Shark House. The gate’s code is 6969. I’m on the ground floor.
My throat dry, I stare at my phone. It takes me a while to realize someone’s talking—to me, specifically.
“—wrong, Lily?” Olivia asks, peeking over my shoulders to see what could have petrified me. Then she says, “Oh.”
I shove the phone back in my pocket, my entire face on fire. “It’s not what you think,” I rush to say. “I—err—”
Liv’s eyebrow arches elegantly as she waits for me to explain how she could have misinterpreted “choke on my cock.” When I fail to say anything else, she tells me, “You…have somewhere to be, by the sound of it. And it’s pretty late. Come on, Jack.”
“Wait, what?” He frowns over his paper. “What do you mean, somewhere to be? It’s the middle of the night.”
“We’re not twelve, Jackson,” Olivia tells him, taking his eyebrows. “College people do things in the middle of the night.”
“But—” he protests, as my friend drags him to his feet and out of my dorm room.
I’m grateful to Lily for not prying and for getting Jack out of here quickly, but now I don’t have any distraction from the fact that I’ve been summoned to the Shark House to give a blowjob to Hector Cross.
Fuck me.