Page 40 of Speak

Fuck.

I quickly open the door and he kisses me when he strides inside my room. “What’s wrong?”

How does he always know? What can I say? What can I do? How do I get out of going to brunch with him? I can’t go to brunch with him! I need to figure out what’s going on. I need to log into the student portal and see if he’s on campus.

Why would he follow me here?

Jonas looks around my room, now in disarray. “Oh, Baby, did you get your period?”

I deadpan and then blink up at him. He points to the bed. There. A very small drop of blood. My blood. WHAT THE FUCK!“Maybe I broke you a little bit. But not much. You’re only bleeding a little bit. But this belongs to me, you know that don’t you, Raven?”

I grimace at the giant football player in my room and he chuckles. “Baby, I play football. It’s gonna take more than a little blood to scare me away. Besides, it’s natural. You aren’t contagious or a zombie. Also, my sister and my mom would kill me if they found out I treated you like shit over something you have no power over. So, how’s this; go shower, get dressed, and I’ll change your sheets out and wash them? I’ll order some food, you look like a woman of culture so I’m thinking chicken Tandoori, some samosas, Tikka- mildly spicy - maybe some chocolate, and we can stay in? Do you have Netflix?”

I blink, watching him slightly unravel, my heart bursting, watching him trying to figure out what I would like. Little does he know; I like everything he’s just said. Including the mildly spicy.

I pull him to me, biting my lower lip at him.

“Have you ever watchedSupernatural?”

I blink again and nod excitedly. Of course I have. It’s my favorite show. I’ve watched every episode at least six times.

“Alright. That settles it, then. I’m on the last season. We’re staying in and pigging out and taking a big, fat nap. Now, go shower. Do you have a heating pad? Never mind. Do your thing. I’ll go get mine. Just give me the key to your room so I can get back in if you’re still showering when I come back.”

Suddenly, finding out what’s going on doesn’t seem like a top priority. This,Jonas, feels like a top priority. I point to my key hook by the door.

He gives me that panty melting smile. “Perfect.” Is all he says before he starts pulling my sheets off the queen-size bed in the corner of the room and I go into my bathroom.

Hours later he pauses the show during one of Dean Winchester's epic smolders. The takeout boxes are almost empty, I've devoured half a chocolate bar, and there’s empty Snapple bottles on either side of us. “Can I ask you something?”

I face the gorgeous man beside me and blink.

“What is Harrington having you do for the debates?”

This is one of those things I have to show him. I lean over and grab my backpack from the floor, pulling out my notebook and the books on Kemper. I show him the rough draft of my argument.

“He’s having you turn it in?”

I blink.

“My older sister had him three years ago when she was a senior. She loved him. I was really excited to take his class. She told me he’s a hardass but that I’ll learn a lot. If you turn this in, handwritten, make sure you also type one up and put it in his inbox. He has a complex. Hates the rich or something. Don’t give him any reason to be a dick to you. He failed a lot of people and he doesn't bend. Okay?”

I nod.

“Can we makeout now?” He grins.

So that’s how I spend my second Saturday night back at Rayne-Moore University – entangled in Jonas' arms, my favorite show in the background, until we fall asleep.

It's the first night, since being here, that I don’t dream of Damon Archer.

Instead, I dream of my faceless shadow, the one that’s always near, watching me sleep from the dark corner of my dorm room. Glaring, not at me, but the man beside me.

Chapter Twelve

Maverick.

“… Therefore, when it comes to Ed Kemper, I believe the nature aspect, given he was submitted to an institution where he was able to learn from other’s crimes, and continue his own secret life of crime, is where everyone is subject to believe it was lack of nurture. It's a simple dissection of nurture BEFORE nature. The real nature, his nature, was said institution where he was able to learn how to nurture his tendencies. Is that where they, the judicial system, fucked up? To see a child, (Kemper was but fifteen) that needs to be rehabilitated and they believe in putting them behind bars instead of giving them the therapy they need to truly be rehabilitated? Can a killer be rehabilitated, or is the need for vengeance, satisfying that need, the rehabilitation in itself?”

Ahh… so she went philosophical and political on me. A debate where she not only needed to be able to sway her peers, but me. She failed swaying me, but she made good arguments. Nietzsche might possibly be proud… ifhewere the one grading this paper.

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