Page 287 of Cheaters: A Dark Romance Anthology

“Let go of me!”

“Let go, Justin. Let me help,” Dad murmured. “Rami, we don’t throw things,” Dad firmly said as I got up from the sofa bed.

“Dude, your face is already bruising,” Nic said out loud, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s fine. I took a foot to the face too.”

“Let me get you some ice,” Nic offered.

“No. I’ll get it. Help Dad.”

I went into the kitchen and dumped some ice in a plastic baggie. My hands were shaking over the incident with Rami. I was exhausted and slumped down in the kitchen chair. I propped my elbow on the table and held the baggie of ice over my face. Dad was able to calm Rami down as her spasms faded away. There had to be something the damn doctors could do.

Exhaustion made me more irritable. Though it hadn’t helped that I’d gotten kicked in the face at three thirty in the morning either. I emptied out the ice and went back to our room and flopped down in the desk chair. With tired eyes, I stared at the textbook that Lucas Grant had recommended to me.

Do I even really stand a chance?

I did have a chance, and I fucking blew it this week. Between classes, I’d been trying to study for the internship exam and also keep up with my next class. And nearly every fucking night there had been some major disturbance at the house surrounding Rami. Even if I hadn’t been the one tending to her, I still heard it and worried. She was getting worse so quickly. Instead of my mind focusing on the material in the book, I’d been worrying about Rami.

A short time later, I found myself sitting on the bus on the way to school. Today was Friday, and I had the exam tomorrow. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes until I heard the automated voice announce the USC campus stop. My legs felt heavier with each step I took, and I seriously considered ditching classes today and sleeping in the library.

But that wouldn’t be right either. I’d earned this scholarship and the opportunity to earn a degree. Cutting class would only hurt myself and make me look bad or as though I didn’t give a damn. Right now, I needed to show myself in the best light possible. Especially to Professor Grant.

I was on my way to Grant’s class and decided that if I felt too tired afterward, then I would cut the other classes and sleep in the library for a while. I pushed the heavy door open to the lobby of the science lecture halls and trudged through. I dragged my hand along the glass of the door, holding it for the group of students walking in behind me. Faintly, I thought I smelled that shitty cologne, but Preston Pohl hadn’t been in any of my classes so far this week.

“Thanks,” one of the girls said to me.

I kept walking but looked over my shoulder to smile. When I brought my head around to face forward, I felt a hand grab the shoulder strap of my backpack that was hanging free. The strap bearing the weight of the heavy backpack slid off my shoulder and down my arm. The weight landed awkwardly in the crook of my elbow, the strap broke, and some of the fabric tore away from the bag.

“Hey! It’s Justin’s-ass!” Preston’s rank cologne filled my nostrils as I bent down to pick my bag up off the floor. I ignored his juvenile attempt to poke fun at my Lithuanian name. “I’d recognize your ratty backpack anywhere. How the fuck did your poor ass get into this school?”

“I earned my spot here. I didn’t buy it,” I smarted back to him. I’m sure it was pure exhaustion that pushed me to reply like that to him. I’d taken enough of his shit in high school, and I wasn’t going to take it here.

“Yeah, that’s right. You couldn’t buy anything. Still taking the bus?”

I glared at him while he hooked two of his fingers under the loose part of my short sleeve, pulling at it. He looked down at my backpack that I now held by the nylon loop at the top. More students moved around us as it neared the top of the hour for classes to begin.

“Same shitty backpack you had in high school and wearing free school t-shirts … you’re still the same trashy kid you were in high school.” Preston reached out and put the back of his hand against my stomach and laughed. “USC doesn’t have a lunch program for poor kids like they did in high school.” I hated Preston. His eyes moved slightly to look in the direction of the slight bruise on my face from Rami. “Looks like your boyfriend bitch slapped you. Maybe he wasn’t satisfied with Justin’s-ass this morning.”

I was livid … I was embarrassed … I was being watched.

Out of the corner of my eye, someone stepped toward us. Professor Lucas fucking Grant. My stomach dropped and my body shook. All the warmth left me, and in its place were ice cold chills. I swallowed hard and turned to face Preston. I wanted to pound the shit out of him, but I had to keep my head about me.

“I need to get to class,” I said and turned to walk in the direction of Grant’s lecture hall.

“Excuse me, young man.” Professor Grant’s angry tone filled my ears. I looked over my shoulder to see if he was talking to me. He was standing in front of Preston, glaring at him. “Get to class and stop harassing my students.”

My hands shook as I opened the wooden door leading to the lecture hall. I looked over my shoulder into the lobby to see if Grant was walking toward me. Aside from the altercation I just had that Professor Grant witnessed, it was awkward standing there.

Should I wait? Should I hold the door? Should I go inside and sit my ass down?

As usual, the lecture hall was dead silent over my shoulder while Professor Grant’s gray eyes stared at me. Suddenly, I felt incredibly weak and worried if I didn’t sit down soon, I’d end up on the floor passed out and in a more embarrassing situation. Again, I let my hand slide along the door to show I was trying to be nice by holding it open but also not waiting around for him.

Somehow, my legs knew where to take me, and I hurried to my seat. I apologized to several students as I squeezed in front of them on my way to my usual spot. Quietly, I set my backpack on the floor by my feet and my shaky hand was still curled under the loop at the top. I stared down at the desk in front of me but focused on nothing. My pulse raced, and even though I felt ice cold, my forehead, armpits, and chest all felt damp with sweat. The lecture hall remained silent, waiting for Professor Grant. When the door opened, my heart pounded harder and faster.

I didn’t have my notebook out.

I didn’t have a pen out.

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