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My eyes wander around until it lands on the black-and-purple bruise on his cheek. The mark suits him—something ugly that shows his true nature.
“Especially after your guard dog attacked me.” He gestures to the bruise with gritted teeth.
“Looks like you deserved it,” I snap back.
His jaw ticks, and a vein bulges on his forehead, red hot with anger. He steps forward, ready to grab me, but stops himself like he remembered where we were.
The busy market full of prying eyes is my safety net. If we were anywhere else, he would hurt me. Being the center of attention makes him calm down a bit.
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” his voice comes out just above a whisper, but every word drips venom.
“What the fuck do you want, Dalton?” My boldness surprises me, and it must surprise him because his eyes widen slightly.
“You better not tell anyone about me.”
Seriously, he’s out here in public, threatening me over that? I don’t even want to be within miles of him.
“I don’t need my reputation at Grace Hill ruined by some tranny.”
My mind freezes.
Grace Hill. He’s going to the same college as me?
“You’re going to Grace Hill?”
“Duh, my dad’s an alumnus there. Don’t ruin this for me.”
My legs move away from him, not knowing how to handle the new information.
I hear his voice call after me. “If you say anything, I’ll spread those pictures of you. No one’s going to hire a freak with nudes surfing the web.”
The thought of spending another four years with the possibility of seeing Dalton makes my blood boil so much that steam might be rolling out of my ears.
Should I drop out? Find a different school next year?
What about Ella? She’s been wanting to room together in college since we became best friends. One of the few things she breaks her shell of unfeeling for is the idea of us experiencing college together.
I want to go to Grace Hill. I want to see what college is all about.
Dalton can’t ruin that for me.
I can’t live in fear anymore. I need to see the future.
With whatever determination I can muster, I turn to see Dalton still looking at me, but the anger is replaced with a smug smirk. He thinks he’s won.
“You know I was seventeen when those photos were taken.”
“So what?”
“You can clearly tell I was unconscious in the photos, but even so, I’m still a minor in them, meaning if they get sent to people, you’re distributing child pornography.”
His eyes level with mine, but recognition flashes through them. He’s starting to pick up what I’m talking about.
“I’ll tell people you willingly took them. That you asked for it like a whore.”
“Okay, but your reputation might be called into question. Do you really want to risk that? People will definitely wonder why you were taking pictures of a nude trans girl.”
His face falls, paling with the thought. His image means everything. Even if he won the lawsuit, which he might with how bigoted people are, his name would still be recorded on the internet. People would talk, and he would forever be associated with me.
