Page 174 of Forbidden Lessons

“Okay, okay.” It says a lot that, despite the weed, it only takes me a second to sober up enough to talk again. “What if, what if a guy does something so fucking outrageously fucked up, that, that, you want to gauge out his eyes with your bare fucking hands?”

Melissa stares at me with wide eyes. She lifts her hands to her face, slowly mimicking a gentle clawing motion. Nodding.

We both burst out laughing again. It’s so bad this time that we hold on to each other so we don’t fall off the table.

“Please can I watch?” she wheezes.

I’m wiping away tears. “Watch what?”

She waves at me. “It doesn’t have to be in person. You can record it!” She breaks into gales of laughter.

“What?” I shake her.

“You and Kai hate fucking!” she wheezes, thumping her fist into my upper arm.

“Fuck you.” I slide off the table, my mouth squirming as I try to control my laughter.

“Wait, please, Haven!” Melissa yells, but then starts laughing again.

I give her the finger over my shoulder, and hear her thundering after me in big floppy steps. “Wait, wait! Please. I’m sorry.”

“You okay there?” I ask dryly as she clings to me and tries to walk and breathe and laugh at the same time. “Need an ambulance?”

“Just the video,” she whispers, her lips rolling into a line as she tries—and fails—not to giggle.

“Fuck off!” I shove her away, but now I’m giggling too, and my arms are too weak.

“Argh!” She drags out a stool from the kitchen counter and snatches me as I pass, forcing me to sit. “I’m gonna make you the best snack ever. It’s so good, you’ll be hitting that record button?—“

“Enough!” I hold up a finger. “I’m warning you.”

She covers her hand with her mouth, turns to the fridge.

“Didn’t figure you for a closet slut,” she says, her head buried inside.

“I’m not any kind of slut.” Weird how she can call me that, and I barely blink. But Kai? Hearing him say that is like a burning knife to the gut every time.

As if thinking about him reminds me, the cut on my side aches. I found a band aid large enough to cover it in the first aid kit in the kitchen this morning. The only other time it hurt today was when I was struggling in and out of those pretty dresses at the boutique.

“Please. You paraded that notepad around like a pink flag.” She takes out some low-fat yogurt. Blerk. Blueberries. Mmm.

“Notebook?”

She glances at me over her shoulder as she takes out a pair of bowls from the cabinet. “Seriously. You’re gonna deny that, too?”

“Deny what?”

“Oh my God.” She rolls her eyes and storms out of the kitchen.

“Wow.” I lean over the counter, cracking open the blueberry container and popping a few in my mouth. “Mmm.”

I almost swallow one whole when Melissa reappears a moment later, slamming her ereader face down on the table in front of me. She points at one of many stickers covering the back of the device.

A long sticker, just a bunch of random letters, that runs the entire length of the e-reader.

“What?”

“Come on. Say it with me.” She points at the first letter. “Shut…?”

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