Page 20 of Devil's Bargain

I push on the edge of the desk and swivel around on my chair.

Then I do it again.

Rick’s bag taunts me from its spot at the end of my bed. If it had a mouth, it would say, ‘Look inside me. What does a big, bad jock carry around?’

“Not happening!” I mumble and push on the desk, making me spin around for the third time.

My homework is laid out before me, but I can’t focus. Tomorrow looms like a dark shadow.

I come to a stop and sweep my eyes over the purple walls and band posters, the photographs taped to the freestanding mirror beside my door.

I sigh, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of my eyes. My room looks as tired as I feel. What’s Rick’s room like? I bet it’s twice the size of mine, if not more, with brand new furniture.

Unlike my desk chair, which squeaks and bends back too far.

As if that’s not bad enough, the fabric is peeling away on the backrest. Ben once dropped a joint on it, so it’s got a burn mark on the seat.

One of these days, it’s going to break entirely.

Rick’s chair is probably one of those expensive gaming chairs that vibrate and has built-in speakers.

He’s so out of my league it’s laughable, so why does he keep popping into my head?

The bag is looking at me again. The urge to open it and peek inside is like an uncomfortable itch I want to scratch but can’t.

I’m alone in here, so who’s to know?

I chew on my lip. “Screw it!” I’m on my knees, unzipping the bag before I’ve had a chance to blink.

The desk chair has rolled over to the door. I want to pretend I rose from my seat calmly before walking over, but the truth is that I scooted it back in such a hurry that it slammed into my door.

I’m surprised my mother didn’t come in here to shout at me with her hair a mess, a cigarette dangling from her lips.

When the bag is unzipped, I sit back and stare at it for a moment.

Why does it feel as if I’m crossing some boundary right now? Rick won’t have anything weird in there. It’s not as if he packed his jockstrap and a bottle of back door lubricant in the front pocket.

I run a hand over my face and blow out a breath before zipping it back up and rising to my feet, but I’m soon down on my knees again.

This time I unzip it fully and peek inside. School books, a bottle of spray deodorant, a water bottle, a wallet of cash that I immediately put back, a portable charger, and two snack bars.

He wasn’t lying when he said he always has something to eat.

No jockstraps and no bottles of lube. I’m strangely disappointed by how normal he is. But then again, would a guy like Rick need to carry lube around with him?

If he ventured near my lady parts, I would self-lubricate with enthusiasm to rival a shopaholic with a wad of cash at a closing down sale.

I zip it back up and rise to my feet. “There. No one will ever know!”

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