by Sara Cate
That his hands on me are all I think about. That his hateful words turn me on. Even the scent of him. Everything about Hunter Graham is creating this pool of wetness between my legs, and I hate it. I hate him. How can hatred be such a damn turn-on?
I need to get out of here. Now.
I miss physics completely. There may have been a chance I took a detour and got to school too late to attend. Avoidance is my friend right now, and it feels easier this way. I make it through English and gym. Mr. Henderson made us run three miles, then made me run one more because I was slacking. I swear, gym teachers have hard-ons for making people sweat. The problem is, now I’m going to be late for my next period, and I told Melissa I would meet up with her before class to help her with a problem on our assignment. Rushing through the locker room, I grab my things and throw off my soggy gym shirt and shorts. I reach into my locker—”
“Cat.”
I whip to my left and spot him as I grab for my shirt. “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to see you.” Discomfort settles in my stomach. I use my shirt as a shield.
“You said you aren’t allowed in here during school hours,” I say as Mr. Gibson stalks toward me.
“I’m not, but you make it difficult to see you. Where were you today?”
His question sends another wave of anxiety rolling through me. “I—I woke up late. I wasn’t feeling well. Listen, I have to change—”
“And detention?”
There’s aggressiveness in his tone. He takes another step, and I fall back into the lockers. His arm shoots out and grabs at my waist. His gaze drops to where his hand is. “What is this? Who did this to you?”
“What?” I panic, my eyes shooting down to where he’s touching me. There is a row of bruises on both of my hips—exactly where Hunter held me. “I…uh, I don’t know. I bruise easily—”
“Are you—is there someone else—?”
“What? No. Listen, whatever this is, it’s making me very uncomfortable. You need to leave me alone, or I’m going to—”
His grip tightens, adding pressure to my already wounded flesh. “That’s not how this works, Cat.”
He’s starting to scare me. “Mr. Gibson, please—”
“It’s Samuel. Call me Samuel.”
“I’m good with Mr. Gibson. Please let me go. I have to get to—”
“Cat? You still in here?”
I’ve never been so happy to hear my name in my life. “Melissa, yep! Getting dressed still. Come on in.” I stare at Mr. Gibson, fury growing in his steely gaze. It takes him a second, but he releases me and storms off down the corridor into the gym. It’s then I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I sigh in relief. Melissa turns the corner, and I’m still staring at where Mr. Gibson disappeared to, clutching my shirt.
“What are you doing? We’re going to be late.”
“I…I…”
“Hey, you okay?” I bite down on my lower lip. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do I say no? That my teacher is inappropriately pursuing me? “Okay, you’re starting to freak me out. What’s wrong?” Shit. I can’t fight the trembling of my lower lip. The disgust of where his hands were on me.
“I just need to go home. I’m not feeling well.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Sorry about the homework. Just copy mine, ’kay?” I hide my shaking hands by shoving them in my backpack and pulling out my assignment. She’s hesitant to take it, still searching my eyes for answers. “Seriously. I’m fine. Nothing some sleep won’t cure.”
It takes a few beats longer, but she finally lets it go and accepts my assignment. I walk out with her, looking over my shoulder every few seconds. When we make it into the hall, I break free and rush toward my locker to grab my coat. Without stopping at the school nurse, I run through the side exit.
The creaking of my bedroom door jolts me awake. I sit up, pushing my back against the headboard, cuddling my knees to my chest. The defensive position reminds me of when I was younger. Shortly after Dad left, and our house turned into a revolving door of gentleman callers, a guy accidentally came into my room instead of my mom’s. They had been drinking, and he had difficulty telling the difference until my mom stopped him and kicked him out.
I stay locked in place until the light flickers on, and I see Hunter standing in my doorway. “Where the hell you been, Stray? Got the whole school in your back pocket now? Letting you skip class whenever you want? Must be an excellent student.”
My nerves are shot, the stress of Mr. Gibson’s actions putting me in a state of numbness. I don’t take the bait and slide back into my bed, pulling my sheets over my head. “Go away, Hunter.”
He does the opposite, his boots hitting the old wooden floor as he enters my room. “Not a chance. I wanna hear what makes you so special that you don’t have to show up to Mr. Gibson’s class now. Blow jobs for homework? Sex for attendance? What does our naughty teacher get if he takes your ass?”
I shiver under my pile of blankets at the thought of him touching me again. The way he looked at me today…it wasn’t right. Not like before. His unwanted flirtation has turned into an obsession. I saw it in his eyes. I need Hunter to leave. The memory he caused to resurface has my body trembling all over again.
“Hello? Do you not speak now? The all-mighty princess just gets her way?” Suddenly, my sheets are torn off me, and I recoil. “Jesus, relax. I wasn’t going to try anything.”
“Go away. Please.” I hate that the emotions show in my voice. Weakness, worry, regret. So much so, there’s no way Hunter doesn’t pick up on it.
“What’s wrong with you? Where’s my feisty stepsister? Don’t you have some nasty words for me? I can think up a few for you—”
I throw my body upright and yell, “Get the fuck out! What don’t you understand about that?” I swallow down a sob. “Get out. Just leave me the fuck alone.” He stands there long enough to see the tears on my cheeks. I fall back onto my bed and curl into myself, waiting for another round of taunting. To my surprise, my bedroom door slams shut.
I hiccup a few strangled breaths before the sobs curdle in my throat. I cry for what seems like eons until my body gives in and I slump on my mattress. I reach for my phone and dial Dad’s number. Voicemail. “Dad, please. I need to come home. It’s not safe for me here anymore.”
Chapter 12
Hunter
Something happened
There was no fire in her. And I’ve never seen her without her spark. I’ve also never seen her cry. What the fuck happened? Did that motherfucker do something to her? Hurt her? Why do I even care? He probably dumped her and she’s playing the victim.
I head back to my room and slam my door closed. If she’s all upset she got dumped, it serves her right. Maybe she should find a guy her own age and stop fucking for favors. God, I can’t stand the way he looks at her during class. The way he watches her. Studies her as if no one is fucking paying attention. Creepy ass dude. I should have put a stop to it the second I saw it. Who knows who else he’s lured into his office in return for good grades and perfect attendance? The thought pisses me off even more. I debate going back into her room and telling her that. Telling her to wake the fuck up. That she’s just another student he’s scammed into sleeping with him. Sick fuck.
I toss myself onto my bed and reach for the remote to my stereo. Before I turn the music on, I hear the soft whimpers through the wall. She’s still crying. I wait for it to stop. Minutes turn into hours. There’s no end. I should turn my music on and put myself out of my misery. She’s not my problem. I don’t care what happens to her. Then why am I sitting here torturing myself? Why do I want to go in there and fix her? When I’ve had enough, I sit up and make a fist, ready to bang on the wall and tell her to shut up, but then it stops.
Now, I’m the creeper, with my ear to the wall, trying to listen. She had to have fallen asleep. Would Gibson breaking it off with her make her that upset? The way she huddled into herself when I came in. Her bod
y trembled, but it wasn’t in the way I’ve witnessed before. She was. . . scared.
I lie back in bed, taking in the way I found her. She missed class today. Mr. Gibson seemed off his rocker. He barely held it together until the bell rang, and he stormed out. Every time he stalked the hallway during passing periods, he looked unhinged. Fuck.
What did you get yourself into, Stray?
Chapter 13
Catalina
I wish I could hide in my room forever. But I know I have to face reality. I need to go to the principal. Speak to someone I can trust and who will listen. When I look in the mirror, I cringe at my puffy face. There is no way to hide that I’ve been crying. It’s a good thing my mom doesn’t take notice of me. Grabbing my backpack, I head downstairs, sporting a pair of sunglasses.
“Morning, kiddo,” William greets me as he does every morning. Hunter sits at the breakfast table next to his dad. Mom is at the counter cutting up fruit and doesn’t give me a second glance. “What’s with the sunglasses?”
“Sporting a new trend. Shades in the winter are the new hip thing. Welp, gotta go.” I turn to make an escape when Hunter’s voice ruins it.
“You need a ride?”
I turn back. “Nope. It’s a nice day. Think I’m just gonna walk.”
William looks appalled. “Walk? We’re almost two miles from school and it’s snowing. Why would anyone walk?”
Mom waves me off as if it’s no big deal. “She walks every day. Let her be.” Gee, thanks, Mom.
William’s eyes break into a concerned frown. “Olivia, no child should be walking in these conditions. They’ll get sick. Catch pneumonia.”
“She only wishes. Then she’d be able to skip more school. They called, by the way. Your physics teacher called, saying you were absent again in detention. Detention, Cat? Really?”
The mention of Mr. Gibson has me spinning all over again. I brace myself against the wall, making eye contact with Hunter, who looks about ready to murder me. I roll my eyes as if it’s nothing, putting on a show for my mom and William. “They must have made a mistake and not told him the nurse sent me home. I had a fever.”
William sets his newspaper down and stands. “Let me drive you to school. This is absurd.”
“No, really. It’s fine. I was kidding, actually. My friend Melissa is on her way to pick me up. You all enjoy your breakfast. See ya.” This time, I don’t stop for anyone and hurry out the door. I’m almost down the driveway when Hunter snatches my arm and stops me. “Let go of me.”
“No. Not until you tell me what the fuck’s wrong with you.”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You kept me up all night with your damn crying. What, did he break it off?”
I tug on my arm. “Leave it be.”
“Yeah, not gonna do that. And you don’t have anyone picking you up. Do you actually walk straight to school? You’re always late. Make any stops on your way? Who else do you have on your roster? Me? Teach—”
I shove him so hard he loses his grip and almost slips on the ice. “Fuck you, Hunter. You know nothing about me.”
“That right?”
I’m so done. I get into his personal space and take a stiff jab at his chest. “You think just because you fucked me you know me? Think again, asshole. What you know is I was desperate and would have let a complete stranger fuck me. You just happened to be there. Don’t think you’re anyone special. You’re just another asshole thinking he has what it takes to fulfill a woman. Stay the fuck away from me.”
I turn around without another word and make my two-mile walk to school.
My stomach wants to bottom out as I drag my legs up the stairs. Students push past me as they hustle into the building. The snow picked up mid-walk, and I’m covered in a pile of white fluff. Opening the door, I shake off the excess snow and head the opposite way of class. When I enter the main office, I ask the secretary if my counselor is in. Thankfully, he is. I wait fifteen minutes for him to finish up before he welcomes me into his office.
“Miss Mitchell, what brings you into my office today?”
I can’t stop fiddling with my fingers, my nerves going haywire. I have a problem with a teacher. He’s coming on to me, and it’s gone too far. I’m afraid he’ll try and hurt me. All the things I want to stay, but I chicken out. “Well, I need a class change.”
“Oh yeah? Which one? You seem to be doing well in all of them.”
“Physics.”
There’s no reaction when I say the class. Mr. Beller leans in and inspects my grades. “Hmmm. . . why? Looks like you’re doing great. Mr. Gibson speaks highly of you. Just this morning, he turned in a list of achievement awards for students to be recognized at the end of the year and your name was on it.”
He’s also unhinged, and I need to be far away from him. “I know, but it’s just too much for me. I feel like I can spend my time more wisely on another subject. The class isn’t required, am I right?”
He shakes his head. “No, but it looks good on transcripts. Students highly recommend Mr. Gibson. I can’t say I’ve ever had anyone ask to be transferred out of his class.”
He’s scary and possessive and— “It’s for the best. I’d prefer something else. Anything, actually.” I fight to keep a passive smile. The last thing I need is for him to call in Mr. Gibson and discuss my request.
“I’ll have to see what we have open. Assuming I can place you somewhere in the next day or two, you can attend class as normal or take a study hour during first period.”
I hop out of my chair. “Study hour sounds perfect. Thank you.” One problem down. Separating myself from the situation seems like the smartest solution right now. I head down to study hall, making sure to take the long way so I don’t pass Mr. Gibson’s class. Study hall goes without a hitch, and I catch up on the homework I missed yesterday. It’s when I have to return to my locker that my anxiety starts up again. Just don’t ever be alone. He can’t try anything if I’m with another student.
Walking into the girls’ locker room, I grab a girl and latch arms with her. “Hey, Beth, right? Love the new hair. Wanna buddy up today in gym class?”
She eyes me strangely, then thrusts my arm away. “Not a chance,” and walks down the opposite row of lockers. Shit. So much for that idea.
I lie and tell Mr. Henderson I forgot my clothes. When he tries to send me back into the locker room to rent a pair, I lie again and tell him I got a horrible rash from the last ones I had to rent. Then I fib again and say I misplaced the doctor's note, but I can’t wear used clothing until they diagnose me. With an Oscar-worthy eyeroll, he lets it go and allows me to sit out for the hour. With my back against the bleachers, I watch. At any moment, Mr. Gibson can pop out and request to speak with me. And knowing how pissed Mr. Henderson is for the most overused excuse, he’d let him drag me out of here.
When class ends, I grab my things and sneak out the side exit. When I slide out the door, two hands hold me, and I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Jesus, shut the fuck up. You’re gonna get us both in trouble.”
I push off Hunter’s chest. “What the fuck? You scared the living shit out of me.”
“And why is that, Stray?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Give me the truth.”
I wish I could. I wish I had someone to confide in. There’s no way to explain the shit I’ve gotten myself into. “You wish. What’s your problem? You seem super stalkerish lately. Jonesing for some more, are we?”
He rolls his eyes at me. Not as impressive as Mr. Henderson, though. “Give me a fucking break. You were a C minus at best.”
What is today, national eye-rolling day? I roll mine and scoff. “Bullshit. You practically cried it was so good. Fuck…oh, Cat…oh, fuck…”
“I never said your name.”
“You may as well have. You were so damn needy. Seriously, buzz off. Once was enough for me.” I try to escape his grasp, knowing Mr. Gibson will appear soon. He
knows my schedule.
“Just knock off the act for a fucking second, will you? Something’s up with you. And as much as I want to not care, I can’t.”
His confession catches me off guard. It’s the first time he’s ever said anything close to nice to me. There’s a slight shift between us. Is this his olive branch? His way of playing nice? Calling a truce? I consider taking it. Life would be so much easier if we weren’t at each other’s throats. I open my mouth to accept when I see Mr. Gibson gunning toward us.
“Well, don’t. It’s…creepy. I gotta go.” I turn and take off running down the hall. Like a scaredy-cat, I spend the rest of the day in the nurse’s office feigning a horrible headache. It’s the only way to stay on school grounds and feel safe. He can’t get to me here. At least…I don’t think he can. When the final bell rings, I text Melissa for a ride home.
We’re both quiet on the ride, only the sound of the engine and tires fighting through the snowstorm. Melissa starts tapping on her steering wheel. “Cat, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
She becomes squirmy, and I know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to ask.
“What’s the deal with you and Hunter?”
Great question. “Nothing. He’s my stepbrother.”
“Yeah, I mean, I get that, but…it’s just…he sure seems overly protective of you.”
That gets my attention. “Why do you say that?” If she looked a little harder, she would see he hates me.
“Well, at the party a couple of weeks back, he was furious at some guy trying to talk to you. He broke his nose when the guy tried to take you home. I didn’t think anything of it then. He was just being a brother and all, but lately, he’s been off. Like grumpier than normal. I mean, he’s been an asshole since I’ve known him, but lately. . . For example, Adam Briar was talking trash. He brought you up, saying how you were super-hot, and he’d fuck you even if you had an alien baby.”