Page 11 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Everyone.” I roll my eyes. “It’s not like I get beaten up like some people do, but pushed around? Yes. Both physically and otherwise. You wouldn’t believe how many rich assholes at school try to get me to do their homework, run their errands, or—like your buddy Eric—sleep with them when I’ve made it clear I’m not interested.”

“Huh.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised by his confusion, which seems to be genuine. He’s probably never paid the least bit of attention to me.

“Okay.” He intertwines his fingers and rests them on his lap. “How’s this? If you help me pass this assignment, I’ll make sure the hockey team leaves you alone.”

“Including Eric?” I don’t see how he can control his friend, but I’d love for him to try.

“Yeah.”

I study his face. His expression doesn’t give much away, but I think he means it.

“All right, then.” I make an effort to hold his gaze and smile. “Let’s do this.”

An hour later, I have to admit that I’m impressed. Tyler is a better student than I expected. He’s made a solid start on the assignment and, unless he goes off the rails, he should have plenty for me to review next time I’m here.

He walks me to the door, although I get the feeling it’s more to make sure I don’t go wandering around his house than out of politeness.

“Remember what I said,” he says as I step outside. “If I pass with at least a B, I’ll talk to the guys.”

I nod. “I’d appreciate that.”

He closes the door. I turn and start down the drive, carrying my textbook. I’m halfway to the street when I hear raised voices and glance over my shoulder. I freeze. Two figures are silhouetted in one of the windows, and as I watch, one shoves the other.

I draw in a ragged breath and close my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, the figures are gone.

I hesitate. If someone is hurt, they need help, but they were there and gone so fast, I can’t be certain of what I saw.

4

ECHO

I move with the stream of students into the lecture hall and climb the stairs to sit near the back on the right-hand side, facing the podium where the professor will stand. As I open my backpack and pull out a notebook and pen, someone sits beside me.

I don’t look up, instead soaking up the sense of relief that comes with regaining a sense of normalcy.

Class is normal. Note-taking is normal.

I only have two semesters left before I finish my undergraduate degree. Not that I intend to be done with academia yet. To become a therapist, I need a few more years under my belt.

The person beside me clears their throat. I glance over, expecting it to be Ryan, who’s also in this class, but my features freeze in place.

It’s not Ryan.

In fact, this person isn’t a friend at all. He makes himself comfortable next to me, spreading his muscular legs too wide and leaning back as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Tyler Kinsey.

That goddamn bastard.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, pulling as far away from him as I can without leaving the seat. I won’t let him chase me away when I was here first. Unfortunately, Tyler has the sort of presence that occupies a lot of space, especially with those strong shoulders and arms that I definitely shouldn’t be noticing.

His lips soften. He isn’t smiling exactly, but his expression is warm. My eyes instantly narrow. He’s up to something; I just haven’t figured out what yet.

“I take this class,” he says, setting a tablet on the pull-out desk and switching it on.

“So, take it from somewhere else.” The further from me, the better.

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