Page 62 of King

Grunts.

“Oh my god—you feel so good.”

My breath stops, ears ringing and my jaw feels like it’s going to break.

Christian turns to look at me but I’m already halfway down my seat, hiding behind my copy of The Catcher in the Rye. Mr. Hill turns his attention to the speaker box, lowering his glasses as if that makes him hear it better.

“Sssh, I don’t want anyone to hear you scream.”

My nails threaten to break my skin, balls in fists as tight as Isaac’s pants.

Damien doesn’t move or lift a finger despite all eyes in the class going between us. I hear our moans filling the room and my skin burns. I’m frozen in my seat and all I want is to disappear into the floor.

So she did see.

Did she see everything? I'm not sure but she saw enough to record it and humiliate me. Or...did Damien mastermind this?

The audio of our closing romp seems to go on forever but it’s only a few seconds before Lea comes back on. “Oops! Oh my god!” Her voice is thick with sarcasm. “What happened there? I didn’t mean to play this clip of Joelle Rowland and an ERA hockey player.Two guys in two weeks? Looks like our project princess is a slu—"

“Isn’t that King?”A voice comes from a distance, through the speaker.

“No!” Lea’s hushed yell isn't hushed enough. She says it right into the intercom. “Vote Huang!” There's a crackle before the speaker goes quiet again.

The original host is back after a few seconds of silence but his continuing announcements go unheard. The whole class is looking at me, including Mr. Hill.

Damien still hasn’t budged and the longer he doesn’t say anything the quicker the fire burns inside me. Was this his plan?

A lump forms in my throat and I want to throw my book at his head. I want to leave the classroom but that's exactly what they want, isn't it? To get me out of here.

Christian slams his fist on the desk before he gets up. Grabbing his backpack, he heads for the door. Mr. Hill calls out to him but it’s no use, he leaves the classroom with a slam.

I look over at Damien and he’s smirking.

You’re mine.

His words replay in my head and before I know it, I’m on my feet. Storming over to his desk, I'm in front of him before I register what I'm doing. “Did you do this?” I demand.

He leans back in his chair, tapping away on his phone without even a lift of his chin.

Mr. Hill calls to me but his voice is distant.

Fine. That’s how he wants to play this.

I turn to the class. “I guess the pussy was so good you couldn’t keep it to yourself, huh?”

“Miss Rowland, sit down!” Mr. Hill’s voice is stern.

I don’t care, heat flowing through my body. “Guess what class? He’s a goddamn disappointment. Came in two seconds.” That's not true, but if I'm going down he's coming with me.

“Miss Rowland!”

“Yeah, I know.” I walk to my backpack, grabbing it from the floor. “The rich kids get to get away with slut-shaming and childish antics but when I stand up for myself I’m in the wrong. I get it. I’m going.”

By lunch, Damien has texted me a total of fifteen times. I counted.

“We need to talk.”

“Meet me in the boys’ locker room.”

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