Page 74 of Bend Him, Break Him
“You would want this.”
The look of hurt on Isaac’s face made Colton’s stomach twist in knots.
“I would never.”
“And I believe that. Mostly.” Colton sighed. “But I can’t stop my brain. Leon had motive but no way into my room.”
“He picked the lock.”
“At a party with close to thirty people? Leon just randomly learned to pick locks?”
“He could already know.”
“Because that’s totally a skill people just have on hand,” Colton spoke with venomous sarcasm. “How he found a way into my room is a mystery. What, he hid a camera in there and then found his way back outside? Plus, he locked the door again so no one would notice. That’s a lot of steps, and he’s evil enough for it. But then I think about how you had access to my room. Alone.”
Colton recalled the few minutes he’d left to take a piss, to freshen up, to breathe and reel back his overzealous excitement about the blowjob.
“I didn’t do this.”
“I know.”
“I can’t believe you think I would!”
“I don’t believe you did it,” Colton snapped. “It’s just a weird, paranoid thought bouncing in my head with, like, a million other thoughts. And honestly, it’s not that outlandish. This all started because you hated me.”
“This all started because you hurt me.” Isaac jabbed an accusatory finger in the air.
“See, it’s that right there. The anger and the hurt and resentment you still have for me.” Colton gestured between them. “You wanted to expel me. You wanted to hurt me. To use me. To break me. Don’t tell me I’m crazy for thinking maybe you were playing some long con to fuck me quite literally for the world to see. My entire fucking life is falling apart. Tens of thousands of people have watched me get fucked in the ass, either jerking off to it or having a good laugh at my expense. I don’t have time to tiptoe around your feelings when mine are fucking exploding!”
“I…” Isaac dropped his head.
“I just need space to think, to process, to breathe.” Colton fumed, hurt and frustrated and confused beyond measure.
“Take whatever time you need.” Isaac abandoned Colton, who wandered campus until he couldn’t take the looks anymore and went to his apartment.
Colton got back to his room to find his phone buzzing. His mother was calling. He ignored it. Ignored the dozens of missed calls. Ignored hundreds of notifications. Colton couldn’t speak; he couldn’t breathe. He stared at his desk, the trophies, the framed photos, the medals hanging on the wall. That little space in his room was where the camera had been hidden. A spot meant to showcase his success, and it’d been used to record his most private moment. All so it could be posted online and fuel Colton’s downfall.
His coaches said they had his back, but he didn’t believe it. This was the first day of the fallout, and they’d benched him. What would happen when pressure rose? When fans protested? When anonymous fucks called in or sent hateful emails? Coltonunderstood how scandals in sports worked. He was fucked in every sense of the word.
Colton’s phone vibrated in his hand.
“Aaaaahhhhh!” Colton screamed, hurling his phone into his trophies.
Watching one tip over soothed the rage and shame eating away at him, so he barreled forward and slammed into his treasure trove of successes. Everything faded beneath the waves of fury as Colton ripped apart his bedroom, unleashing as much as he could. It wasn’t enough. His anguish hit like a tidal wave. His shame sent him spiraling to the undercurrents of his thoughts, his fears, his insecurities and doubts.
Colton was broken and alone and afraid.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Isaacfound himself aimless without Colton. So much of his semester had revolved around Colton—controlling him, guiding him, screwing him, loving him. Fuck. When had this hateful obsession turned into devoted dedication? He knew the answer as well as he knew that Colton wasn’t wrong in suspecting him, doubting him, questioning if this was all some ruse. How Isaac wished it were, how he wished he could take credit for something so heinous and vile. Being a villain in Colton’s story seemed easier than a confused, unworthy lover.
Everything about their relationship was wrong and broken, and this terrible act was the final crack that would divide them. He could feel it in his bones as he lay in bed, unable to sleep, in every nervous breath he took the following morning outside the dean’s office.
“Morning, Mr. Parker.” Another administrative member of some overpaid board came along and ushered Isaac to follow.
When he reached her office, he found himself in a room with four other individuals, including another student whom he surmised belonged to the disciplinary student panel.
“Oh, fucking joy,” he muttered under his breath.
