Page 184 of Lessons in Cruelty

I don’t have classes on a Friday, so I could stay inside this house all day, but there’s a chance Kai could slip in again, undetected.

I spit out a piece of nail I’ve just chewed off.

Think, Haven.

I could get a last minute daytime shift at the diner, but then I might have to give up one of my weekend shifts—and the money is always better on a Sunday or Saturday.

Maybe I should just drive around town in Bastian’s Land Rover, do a little sightseeing.

Or…Or…

I’ve managed to save up a couple of bucks this week. Maybe it’s time to begin repaying my debt.

I could do with the company.

I drag my phone off the nightstand, checking the time.

It’s a few minutes to midnight.

I open my messages and spend about ten minutes typing a DM.

@lee.haven

I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.

Want to have lunch tomorrow? My treat.

It’s the least I can do.

I chew my lip.

This is so fucked.

Bastian’s probably balls deep in some beautiful, age-appropriate woman who doesn’t live in her car. Who doesn’t smell like fryer grease. Who doesn’t let her childhood friend finger-fuck her under a bed while her roommate⁠—

Fuck.

One tick appears. Then two. But they don’t turn blue.

I wait a while longer, two or three minutes, and then set my phone down. I guess Bastian’s had a long day too.

Professor Rooke. Bastian.

Fuck, I don’t even know what to call him anymore.

In an effort to distract myself long enough for his reply, or to fall asleep, I open the search engine on my phone and try to find more info about the upcoming Rain Dance.

It’s an annual Greek fundraiser that falls under the larger philanthropic umbrella of The Equity Initiative, AHC’s ‘upliftment’ project. It’s also responsible for the Social Change grant.

I click through to the members page of the initiative’s website, the third photo catching my eye.

Professor Rooke. He looks a year or two younger, or maybe he’d just had a haircut. Yet, somehow, more distinguished. Must be the dark tie, the vest under his suit jacket. It names him as a founding member of the project, and one of the donors.

There’s an events page on the website that has an entry for the Rain Dance, as well as a gallery of last year’s event at the Hillside Country Club.

I stare at the photo that opens on my phone.

It’s a ballroom. Everyone’s wearing a tux, a sweeping, floor-length gown, or a sequined cocktail dress.