Page 22 of Brutal Game

Just like in the locker room.

Breathe, Aviva. He can’t do anything to you in front of your professor and nine other students.

But couldn’t he? How far did Jack Feldman’s power reach?

Dylan cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking for the past week about what deviant and divergent behaviorsare, and how they’re defined differently by sociologists, criminologists, and, of course, psychologists.” He took an exaggerated bow and the class tittered.

Jack, however, didn’t.

“We’ve talked about Merton’s theory of deviance. Which is what, Aviva?”

“It’s the tension between means and goals in a society—deviance is a way for people to achieve goals they couldn’t through socially acceptable means,” I responded.

He nodded, approval in his eyes. Jack tensed beside me.

“We’ve also talked about Freud’s theories. Where does Freud think deviance comes from, Mr. Feldman?”

I startled. Dylan never called students by their last names, and it seemed a little…mean to ask a brand new student to define an unfamiliar theory. There was clearly a tension between the two men; but if so, why had Dylan let Jack into our class?

Along with that thought came another, scarier one: what was Jack’s plan? He’d already proved on Friday night that he didn’t believe in limits or the word “no.” Just how far would he go, to get what he wanted? And what was it he wanted? Ididn’t believe for a second it was me, not really. I might hate him, but I also realized just how out of my league he was. He’d been surrounded by girls at the party.

A chuckle sounded next to me, almost in my ear. “Too much repression,” Jack said, and the class laughed.

Dylan stiffened.

I blushed.

“Very good, Mr. Feldman,” Dylan said, but it didn’t sound like he thought it was very good.

He turned to the rest of us. “For the remainder of the semester, you’re all going to pair up and find an example of deviance. This can be fictional, mythological, historical, even present day. And then what you’re going to do is write a paper, part research, part argumentative, exploring whether the deviance fulfills Merton’s theory…or Freud’s.”

One of the girls in class who’d been friendly with me, raised her hand. “But Dylan, there’s an uneven number of us now.”

Dylan nodded. “True. There’s going to be one…threesome.” He made a hammed-up look of disgust. “Please don’t turn that into a joke. I expect more of you.”

Everyone laughed again.

“And since you’re adults, you can choose your own partners. I’ll give you five minutes.”

The girl turned to us. “How about it, you two?” she asked cheerfully.

Jack shook his head, looking bashful. “I’d say yes, but Aviva already claimed me as her partner.” His smile turned sharklike. He covered his face with his hand, leaning forward and stage whispering, “She gets jealous.”

She laughed. “No worries.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at him. “I don’t want to work with you.”

Jack’s gaze turned cool, but he leaned back into me, making sure no one could hear him but me. “You don’t get to decide what you need anymore, princess. I don’t think you get it. You’re no longer in charge. You lost the privilege of making your own decisions when you tried to take down my team.”

Before I could come up with something, Dylan cleared his throat. “Alright, looks like everyone’s partnered up. Right?”

One guy—also wickedly attractive, wearing a pin of a rose with thorns—put his hand up.

“Sebastian, you need a group?” Dylan looked around the room, landing on me—and where Jack’s arm still claimed my chair, and me, by proxy. “How about you join Aviva and Mr. Feldman?”

Jack stiffened. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’

Dylan’s face reddened. “Mr. Feldman, last I checked, I’m the professor. And?—”

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