Page 5 of Hot For Her Bully

She blushes a shade of crimson. Her eyes scan the room until she grabs a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, slipping them on.

"What do you want?" she asks. Anger has her white-knuckling her towel as if she wants to strangle me with it.

"We're going to date."

She nearly chokes in disbelief. "No, the fuck we're not. You and half this campus call me Shit-ney. There's no way anyone's going to believe we're dating. Besides, what's the point? Last night is never happening again."

"Well, the story's already going around about me almost breaking Quinn's wrist to stop him from taking your drugged-up body off somewhere to fuck you. I'm a hero and it's very believable to these idiots that me saving you is enough for you to fall head over heels for me."

"Everyone knows you hate me."

"That's a good point, but I'll tell them your reputation of fucking teachers is what made me hate you. It got you preferential treatment and everything."

"I don't fuck any of the teachers. Never have and never will." She folds her arms across her chest.

"Tough shit. People already think that about you because of how Harland—I'm sorry, Mr. Adams to the rest of us. The way he treats you is a little beyond generous benefactor and a protege he wants to mentor."

She sniffs back tears. "He's not?—"

"It doesn't matter what the truth is. It's what we make people believe. Since you're so cozy with the billionaire donor, you're going to help me rewrite history."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Tell Harland you've fallen in love with me, and that we're dating."

She shakes her head from side to side. "He's never going to believe that."

"Yeah, because I'm sure you've poisoned him against me. You're the one who pointed out I plagiarized his work, right?"

She grips her hair, digging her fingers into her ponytail, ready to pull it out. "For the last time, I didn't know. The professor recited the excerpt from an excellent paper as a unique perspective from a freshman. Your points were too smart, too familiar. I only pointed out that it sounded similar to Harland's industry publications. He already donates a shit-ton of money to this school. Someone would have spotted it."

"Did you know that I cited his work as a source?"

"No, but?—"

I hold a hand up to silence her. "The uproar of everyone reacting to your comment forced that professor to report the paper, even though it was cited correctly. The appearance of it made me look bad. And just like your little nickname, Shit-ney, my reputation as a cheater follows me to this day, too."

"Do you really think dating me is enough to erase what Harland thinks about you?"

"I don't know, but it's damn sure worth a try. You're going to try, Whitney. You're going to go to your sugar daddy and tell him we're dating. Make him believe it. Tell him it's to slow down rumors that you're fucking your way to salutatorian."

Her shoulders slump, and she leans back on her bed. "What am I supposed to do after I convince him we're dating?"

"You're going to insist that he hire me as a sign that he's not retaliating against me for dating you, or for the mistaken accusation of plagiarism."

"There's only one opening he's trying to fill at his company," she mumbles.

"Aww, let me guess? It's going to you?"

Whitney props herself onto her elbows. "It might. He said he's not sure, and it depends on my final grades."

I nod. "Makes sense. He has to make it look good. Can't just fuck you and hire you while spending an entire day at a career fair."

"We're not fucking. As a matter of fact, you're the only person who's fucked me in years."

"Correction, you fucked me first."

She pushes herself off the bed angrily, getting in my face and jamming a finger into my chest. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you know why no guy on this campus will come near me? Shit-ney! You let these assholes believe I shit the bed after getting blackout drunk."

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