Page 8 of Dirty Tricks

Intoxicating but not anything like my dream man. The figment of my sleeping imagination smells of blood and testosterone and anger.

Plus, he isn’t real.

“Get your fucking hand off my girl.” Finn shoves the boy’s shoulder, sending him careening into the wall. “You shouldn’t even be in here at mealtimes. We don’t need freaks around when we’re trying to eat.”

Freaks?

The only freakish thing about the boy is those beautiful eyes and that heavenly bone structure. Half his face is covered by a dust mask, but I wish I could pull it down, see if his nose is as regal as those cheekbones, if his mouth is as lush and inviting as the promise in his gaze.

Part of me wishes he would speak, but I’m equally relieved he doesn’t, not giving my boyfriend the chance to take his words the wrong way and escalate into a full-blown fight.

Finn must say something else, something to me, because his hand latches around my upper arm, clamping tight like a vice, and he marches me to his table, populated by a heaving mass of uncouth boys.

I risk one backward glance to see if the boy stares after me, but it’s Finn his gaze is fixed upon. A dark, lethal look, zeroed on his bruising grip.

My skin tingles, a thousand nerve-endings firing at once.

He looks ready to murder.

The last thing I want is for my boyfriend to think I’m interested in someone else, so I turn my concentration to my food. Once I’ve eaten the few tasty slivers of almond that top my least-favourite vegetable, I grimly chew through the rest before sighing at the dessert.

I hate yoghurt. The sour tang never fails to turn my stomach. It tastes like someone left the milk out on the bench to go thick and sour. The pieces of fruit are tart bright counterpoints to the rancid dairy, but even they can’t elevate the taste enough to stop me gagging at the third spoonful, pushing aside my plate.

“Not hungry?” Finn asks, frowning at me. “Lucky you didn’t take that biscuit after all.”

I give him a smile, eyes searching through the crowd of students, picking out Jenna and waving to her, but she’s with some other friends and doesn’t see.

Her boyfriend does.

Todd stares at me and slowly licks his tongue across his top lip. When he finishes, he pokes it into his cheek until it bulges, thrusting it a few times until my stomach heaves and sweat pops out on my forehead.

“I have to go,” I blurt, no longer caring about Finn’s feelings in my desperate need to get to the bathroom before I hurl.

A second after I fall to my knees, hugging the cold porcelain edges for support, my entire meal comes back up, pattering into the bowl. The taste makes me heave again, mostly liquid this time, then I sit back on my heels, dizzy.

I push the arms of my sweatshirt up, reaching for some toilet tissue, and once again see the fingertip bruises on my arms. The bruises where Finn held me down while Todd fucked my mouth like I was an inanimate sex doll, laughing as I cried.

The tears want to come again but I force them back, biting savage dents in my inner cheek until the urge recedes.

It’s just a stupid misunderstanding, that’s all. IthoughtI’d said no, but I can’t have. Or maybe I did, and they just didn’t hear because I ‘squeak like a goddamn mouse’ as my dad would say.

Finn would never have pressed ahead if I said no; his friend wouldn’t have stuck his grimy dick halfway down my throat if I’d been crying and struggling to get away.

It must have just been something I shouted inside my head, and I can hardly blame them for not hearingthat.

When my stomach settles, I flush the toilet and swish water from my cupped hand to rinse out my mouth.

They’re no longer in the cafeteria. I check the common room, hoping against hope that Todd will have gone to his room instead, but my luck is terrible today. He sits right next to my boyfriend, eyes crawling over me until I feel dirty enough to fold my arms over my sweatshirt.

“You look tired,” Finn says as I join him, sitting on the arm of his chair. “How about you head to bed and send me something I’ll like?”

I nod. When I try to kiss his cheek, his nose wrinkles and I can’t blame him. My mouth probably reeks.

It’s a relief to reach the safety of my bedroom and lock the door. I brush my teeth and pull out my vibrator from under the sink, giving it a careful rinse before stripping naked.

In bed, I position the phone camera to record just like he showed me, and fire up my dual vibrator, starting with the sucky end.

I’m always awkward at the start. Self-conscious even though I have dozens of these in my phone history. The sucker has the motion I prefer, but the moment it works its magic, I switch, knowing Finn prefers me to use the wand.

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