Page 45 of The Chemistry of Us

CHAPTER 18

VAUGHN

Iprobably shouldn’t have acted like a middle schooler and left actual pee in her room, but she was so combative! And refused to listen to any of my reasoning of what happened all those years ago. Tru was acting like she had no part in betraying me and shattering my heart into a million pieces! It was complete bullshit, so yeah, I lost my temper, but I really did have to pee. How hard is human decency? Most of the time, I want to punch my roommates, but I’d still bow out so they don’t shit themselves outside the bathroom!

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Then again, it wasn’t just her. It was all the shit with my parents, grad school, and the looming sex bet that I thought was a good idea to get a rise out of her.

God, imagine us even attempting to have sex.

She’d straight up chop my dick off without hesitation and smile while doing it.

Fuck.

I checked my phone. For once, she was late.

Interesting.

When she did show up, she tossed her books onto the table in the most aggravated way and pulled out a pencil. “Moving on to organic chem.”

The class I was actually doing good in? “Yeah, I don’t need your help with chemistry. It’s simple math and science in a tiny little boring bottle.”

She cleared her throat and looked down at the study sheet. “I was told to be thorough.”

I choked out a laugh. “By the tutoring gods? Seriously, I’m doing good in?—”

“Your dad called the dean. You need to have an A in organic chem to get into grad school.”

I shot to my feet and slammed my hands on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and stared down at the sheet. “Can we just get through this? I was assigned to you, and you very kindly paid off all my other students, so you’re all I have right now. Sit your ass down and let’s just survive.”

That was what I’d been doing my whole life.

Surviving.

Poor little rich kid, must be so hard.

No. You know what was hard? Waking up one day and hearing your dad tell one of his business partners that having kids was just something you did, another notch in the good old belt and that a kid's only job was to make their parents proud and to listen. To get in line and say thank you.

I still remember how fucking excited I was when my dad finally hugged me after winning State, only to turn toward a reporter for a picture. The hug was maybe a few seconds. But pictures lasted forever. He talked about that picture to strangers more than he ever talked about it to me, and when or if he ever did bring it up, it was to tell me that I’d lost weight and needed to bulk up more.

I couldn’t win.

What was the point even anymore? Dark, vivid thoughts flashed through my brain in ways that had me clenching my teeth. “I think we should cancel today.”

“Vaughan…” She finally met my eyes. “I’m trying the best I can.”

“So am I,” I snapped. “I hate him.”

She scooted her chair over. The tension between us was so thick I couldn’t figure out if it was because of my own embarrassment and anger or the situation between Tru and me. So much shit was going through my head I didn’t even realize it when she scooted her chair even closer until her thigh was pressed against mine. What was happening?

“I’m not consoling you.” She tapped her pen.

“Good. Because I refuse all further consoling.”

“Fine.” Her thigh pressed even harder against mine. “The admin for tutoring is watching.”

I snorted. “Probably taking pictures for my dad. I wouldn’t put it past him to ask for actual proof.”

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