Page 15 of Break You

Fuck, she was frustrating.

Rocky

I usually timed my break so that it coincided with the end of Kik’s act, and we could hang out together in the dressing room after the routine. That was way more fun than huddling in the tiny makeshift staff area, or out of the back door where Xavier had practically dragged me earlier. We’d chat and laugh, putting the world to rights, one douche canoe at a time.

Tonight, was no exception, but as soon as I walked into the dressing room, something in the air seemed off with Kik.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing… I guess?” These words were delivered to the floor, not me.

“Okay, so why don’t you sound even in the least bit convinced of that? Or convincing, for that matter?”

“Umm… because I’m trying to work out what just happened and what I feel about it.”

“Okay. What you feel about what? Why so cryptic?” I had no idea what was going on, but I knew it was something, and I wanted to be there for my friend in any way I could. “Come sit.”

I patted the battered leather couch, and for the thousandth time thought about the stories the worn and cracked leather could tell, while also trying not to obsess about the stories that had played out on it and seeped into its bones. The generations of germs breeding on it didn’t bear thinking about. A shudder ran through my body as I buried the thought deep.

Kik joined me on the couch, turning toward me, and looking confused.

“So, shoot, I’m all ears,” I coaxed, fearing that I’d grow old and withered waiting, otherwise.

“You’ve been waiting on table eight tonight, right?”

“Yeah, it’s part of my section.” I spoke slowly, trying to gauge where the conversation was headed.

“Yeah, thought so.”

Okay.

“Why do you ask?”

“What are they like?” We spoke at the same time.

“Ugh. Don’t fucking ask. Actually, no, scrap that. They’re okay, I guess. Standard obscenely rich, stupidly drunk, over-privileged frat boy procedure, except nobody has tried to pinch my butt or squeeze my tits, and I haven’t had to slap anyone, so from that perspective they’re better than the average. Well, all except one, that is.”

“How do you mean?”

I did a quick recap of the events of the past twenty-four hours with Xavier, which was met with wide eyes and a shocked whistle from Kik.

“Wow. That’s epic, and not in a good way. What are you going to do?”

“What are my options? I need the grade, and to get it I have to work with him. My game plan is basically to keep our contact to a minimum, while still trying to do a good job of this damned assignment. I pretty much hate Dr. Reylton right now.”

“I can imagine. Pulling off that balancing act is going to be trickier than tugging off a nun’s panties.”

“Kik! You can’t say shit like that!”

“Yeah, I can, and I did, and I’m not even sorry.” I didn’t doubt that for a moment. Kik didn’t really do apologies, or remorse, or rules, or any of the shit that bound the rest of us. Free spirit was an understatement. “Do you like him?”

“What? No! I just told you I hated his arrogant, entitled, smug guts. How in any of that did you get that I like him?”

“The part where despite all that shit, when he pushed you up against the wall—”

“Door. It was the door we were leaning against.”

“Who gives a crap? Same-same. The point is, when he pushed you against it and finger-fucked you, you were powerless to do anything except come all over his hand... and hate yourself for it. Seems like this whole thing has got disaster written all over it.”

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