Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“What you got for us?” Ethan asks. In a jacket, a pair of jeans, and a backward baseball cap, he wears a cocked smile—the sort I’m used to from the frat types.
“Hold up, now,” I say. “You owe me for last week too, and then another three hundred. Give me my goddamn money, and I’ll set you up.”
I rarely give people credit, and things aren’t going well for me as it is, but Emory kids are hardly strapped for cash, so I figure I can cut some guys a break to keep up good relations.
“Oh, that’s right. Forgot about last week,” he says with an innocent expression that I’m sure fools his teachers—maybe even his parents—but it doesn’t fly with me. I know these brats and their games, but I’m not their mother, so I’m not going to fall for their antics.
Ethan reaches into his back pocket and hands over a wad of cash. Probably what he got from his daddy for a couple of snacks for the week. His dad’s a high-powered tax attorney for some fairly big corporations in Atlanta. Ethan represents a lot of the sorts who attend Emory: children of privilege, like Mark, who enjoys all the luxuries of being part of an elite class—something I’ve been able to profit from, but something that I’ve always lived outside of. They let me infiltrate like this, though, because I have what they need, and I’ve earned the trust of this community. They’ve seen that I’m not going to ruin their reps. And they know I don’t judge them for the drugs…just for being dickheads.
Being the bad-boy drug dealer has gotten me two things: money and sex—excellent reasons to never change my ways.
I hook Ethan and Seth up with their shit, and they head off, leaving me obsessing about Mark again.
I start down the hall and notice him heading past me with two of his friends. I figured I’d see him this morning, since I usually do when I’m meeting up with Ethan and Seth.
As he passes without even looking at me, I wonder if he even saw me. Or if he’s pretending that he didn’t because God knows the governor’s kid can’t start waving to the school drug dealer without causing some sort of social scandal.
I can’t imagine what it was like when they found out he was gay. Although, right now, considering the political climate for gays, I doubt it’s hurting his mommy all that much.
I head down the hall and peer into his classroom.
Mark pulls out his notebook and textbook and sets them on his desk.
He’s been a sheltered kid. I can’t imagine he’s had it easy considering his mother’s career of choice. With a law degree from Yale, she began working as a congresswoman and climbed her way up the ranks, screwing over whomever she needed to until she made it to the top. Considering how much effort she’s put into crafting a pristine public image, I’m sure Mark has always felt like any misstep might ruin her chances of winning whatever office she was currently up for.
His dark brown crewcut and Abercrombie polo look like costumes for the political show he’s been acting in all his life—doing his best to look like any other kid. As hetero and masculine as he can. He sure wasn’t acting that way when I had my dick buried in his ass, though.
I imagine living like he does itches at your conscience, leads to you doing stupid shit like dating the biggest douche in your school and hooking up with the high school dropout everybody goes to for weed and blow.
His gaze drifts to the classroom window, and he spots me.
I don’t bother acting like I’m not looking.
If he wants to do something with me again, I’m more than willing.
The expression on his face doesn’t suggest he’s creeped out by me being here, looking like a fucking stalker. If anything, it seems like he’s thinking very hard about something.
I just wonder what.…
3
MARK
Tim leans on the wall across the hallway, his arms folded like they were when he leaned up against the column in the basement of the house party. He has a smirk spread across his face.
I wonder if he thinks I was his victim. Doesn’t realize that he was really my victim. What I needed to push through my shitty breakup.
I’ve seen Tim around campus a few times since that night—even saw him dealing in the hall before I came to this class—but neither of us has made eye contact with the other. I’m curious if he’s told any of his buddies. Although, if he has, I haven’t heard about it.
And I’m not telling a soul.
I’m not ashamed of what we did. I needed it. It freed me in a way I’ve never felt before, and just seeing him outside the classroom makes me want to have a taste of that experience again. The look in his eyes seems to suggest he wouldn’t mind doing the same thing.