With a long sigh, I stuff my feet into my winter boots, double layer myself, and head out. By the time I make it, I’m out of breath, frozen to the core, and have cursed every single person I’ve ever known. Hunter Graham three times over.
Class has already started when I walk in. I dare a look at the clock to see how late I am. Mr. Gibson catches me first, not hiding his displeasure at my tardiness. But it’s short-lived when he takes in my appearance. I look and feel like an Eskimo, not to mention I can’t feel my feet and have an ice mustache from my runny nose.
“Miss Mitchell, did you fail to get a ride today?”
“Not failed. Chose. Beautiful day.” I smile tightly and turn to walk down the aisle. Hunter is leaned back in his chair, looking warm and cozy.
“Why the glum face, Stray?”
I sit down and bustle out of my jacket. The girl next to me starts huffing and puffing because I’m dropping chunks of snow on her binders. “What the heck? You have a locker for a reason,” she bitches while moving her things.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to be late.” I twist in my seat and stare Hunter down. “Hey! Wow! You definitely have some interesting things in your bedroom. Since I didn’t need a ride, I decided to snoop. Way more porn than expected. But the gay stuff—that caught me off guard.” Both girls on either side of him gasp. His smile drops. “Also, if you’re gonna use my vibrator, at least return it clean. It smelled like your dirty asshole.” I turn around when I see fire blazing in his eyes. Feeling a little bit better, I pull out my textbook and homework.
When I look up, Mr. Gibson is staring at me, his eyes narrowed into slits. Then they land on Hunter. If hatred had a face… He rips his eyes away from me and begins class. The hour goes by seamlessly except for the puddles I’ve made around me.
When the bell rings, everyone jumps up and hurries out.
“Miss Mitchell, can I please speak to you a moment?” I drop my pen at the sound of my name. Nodding, I stuff my things in my backpack and stand to make my way up the aisle. Just as I approach, someone slams into my shoulder while walking past me. Stupid Hunter.
“Yeah?”
Mr. Gibson doesn’t say anything until the last person exits his classroom. “How was your weekend?”
“Um…fine, I guess.” The way his eyes skim my face creeps me out. These little meetings he insists on having are unnecessary. I know I should speak up and make him aware of my discomfort. Otherwise, I can’t see him giving up. “Hey, I’m not sure this is appropriate.”
“Exactly what do you find inappropriate?” How about everything? The way he looks at me. Singles me out. It’s not right. Disturbing describes it best. He raises his hand, and I cringe as he picks a piece of lint from my sweater. “This isn’t the time or place. I just wanted to remind you you have detention this week. You also didn’t do well on your last assignment. We can discuss it in more detail after detention.”
“Wait, I didn’t? I thought I did really well on that assignment.”
He takes a step closer, pausing to take notice of anyone outside his door. When he brings his attention back to me, I see it, feel it. My stomach drops at the way his sleazy eyes take me in. They dip down to my lips. His hands twitch, but thankfully, he keeps them at his sides. He’s fighting not to touch me. My stomach churns with nerves.
My cheeks pale, and suddenly, I don’t feel well. “I’m sorry. I can redo the assignment, but I have to—”
Mr. Gibson reaches forward and gently grabs at my bicep, not allowing me to put space between us. “You can earn some extra credit, Cat. And you’ll love every bit of it.”
My mouth parts on a silent gasp. Just as quickly, his hand falls as the door opens for his next set of students. “Hurry to class, Miss Mitchell. Don’t want you to be late.”
Melissa and I walk out of last period. She talks my ear off about the guy she met at this past weekend’s party, but I can’t focus on a thing she says. My mind won’t allow me to think of anything but detention. His parting words unsettled me. This is so messed up. How did this even happen? I need to go speak to someone, but who? It will be his word against mine, and who’s gonna believe me? Definitely not my mom.
“Hey, sis.” Hunter’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Go away.”
“No can do. We gotta go.”
I turn my back to him and shove my books in my locker. “I’d rather cut my legs off than go anywhere with you.” Melissa snickers under her breath while I grab my jacket.
“We can cut them off in the car. Stop being a brat and let’s go.”
I turn around, sporting an I don’t give a shit snarl. “I told you no. I have detention—”
“Not anymore. The office called. Something happened to your mom. We gotta go.”
My snarl falls, worry taking its place. “Wait, what happened?”
He shuts my locker and latches onto my bicep. “Tell you in the car. Now fucking hurry.”
I mindlessly wave at Melissa and hurry out of the school with Hunter. We climb into his muscle car, and he revs his stupid engine and takes off out of the parking lot. “Seriously, talk to me. What happened? Is she okay?” He turns to me with his smirk. “Why the fuck are you smiling? This isn’t funny.”
“Chill, your mom’s fine.”
“What, you just said—”
“I lied. I thought you hated your mom. You sure seem to care about someone you claim to hate.”
“You have to be kidding me. You just yanked me out of school and lied about my mom being hurt? What the fuck, Hunter! I’m going to get in trouble!”
He takes a sharp right turn, and I fall into him. My hand reaches out, mistakenly grabbing his thigh for support.
“Chill, sis, didn’t know the need for speed gets you all frisky. I can pull over if you wanna—”
I clench my fist and punch him in the thigh. He howls and bends forward, almost taking out a construction sign. “What the fuck!”
“Take me back. Now.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no? Take me back! I have detention.”
“You have detention so Mr. Gibson can drool all over you. He probably beats off under his desk while you sit there. Unless…you assist.”
My face flushes with anger. Shame. How dare he judge a situation he knows nothing about. He pulls into the driveway and hops out. I race after him just as he opens the front door. “You know nothing about me.”
“What does knowing you have to do with why you have detention?” He throws his backpack on the couch and faces me. “So, you also know why you have it. I was right. You and our physics teacher are going at it.” His accusations are so far from the truth, but I hate to give him the satisfaction of arguing. He’s not worth it.
I put my hands on my hips and prepare for a fight. “And maybe we are. Maybe he bends me over his desk when everyone leaves and I like it. Have you ever bent someone over and taken their breath away just by the mere thrust of your cock? Because he does. Every. Single. Time.” His smile once again falters. “I always try to scream, but he has to cover my mouth so I can’t. Every time. That’s how good he is. I can’t keep in my moans. The way he makes me beg—”