Page 73 of Lessons in Cruelty

“Domus mea, domus tua,” she says.

“Gesundheit.”

“My house is your house. In Latin. 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, “Great. I get stuck with the prude.”

She sighs as she struts away.

Am I the only student around here who doesn’t drink like it’s an Olympic sport?

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 hellscape. 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 fucking 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 spiked my cocoa?

Because when he pressed that book against my chest, his fingers lingered as if he was imagining pressing me against something else?

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 hands spreading my thighs?

Because I’m nineteen and stupid and broken…and he knows it?

I take my phone out again, stare at the message.

Hesitate.

I should apologize. He went out of his way for me today, and I acted like a total brat.

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 for being difficult today.