Page 41 of Don't Puck Him

At first I don’t think much of it. I step over it and lock the door to the room with the keycard. A few of the girls who live in the door are walking by, giving me judgmental and amused looks.

When one of them snickers, I turn back to the sheet of paper on the floor. I pick it up with two fingers, balancing my books in the other. The words slash through my heart like a machete.

Dumb bitch, bigger slut!

I crumple the piece of paper in my hand, feeling embarrassed. I know that it is a cheap and unoriginal thought to call any woman of any age a slut. I wish that I could transcend the feebleness of the word, the sheer laziness of it all. Yet it still stings.

Especially since I’m certain who wrote it.

I shove the note into my pocket and high tail it out of the building. I try to ignore a few looks from the girls I thought I had become friendly with, chuckling and pointing like some coming-of-age movie. My heart shakes in my chest as I barely make it on time for bio, sneaking into the back with sweat rolling down my spine.

It is only a two hour lecture, but I barely make it through. I nearly run out of the hall once it is over and take my phone from my pocket, my hands shaking as I text Hunter.

A tap on my shoulder. I flinch, feeling even more like an idiot.

“Are you Wren Damaris?”

Two girls who look a few years older than me are standing there, textbooks in hand, eyes bright and curious. But not in a fun way.

I nod tentatively, my phone still in my hands.

“Yes, I am. Who's asking?”

One of the girls snorts with laughter, then covers her mouth. It’s like I’m not even standing here.

“You’re Cash’s step-sister, right?” the other girl says, the one with sparkling eyes who is managing to contain her amusement. “Cash Anderson?”

I nod again, cautiously. Like waiting for a bomb to go off.

It is her turn to snort. I start to become both bashful and irritated.

“Well, we heard that you are getting to know a lot of the men around here,” the original snorter says. “Like, you know, really well.”

I narrow my eyes at the two girls. It’s a sad state of affairs to realize that this kind of rumor mill continues to flow in this day and age. And what’s even more sad is how effective it is.

I want to tell them that they are ruining their own gender and our rights, but my stomach is too twisted with unease to do that. Instead, I push my phone back into my pocket and start running toward Hunter’s apartment.

The two girls howl with laughter. Tears begin to blur my vision as I make it around the back of the community hall, slowing down to catch my breath. I wipe my eyes before continuing on.

I send Hunter the original text I had been trying to send when those girls accosted me. I really hate feeling like a damsel in distress, but Hunter has really become the sole form of stability I have.

That isn’t something that is easy for me to admit.

Are you home right now? Or on campus?the text I send reads.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and begin to wander toward his apartment anyway. The streets are filled with students walking back and forth to classes, visiting the various cafes and restaurants within and outside the campus. Tears fill up again, and I feel that familiar sensation of loneliness engulf me like a tsunami.

My heart jolts when my phone vibrates a few seconds later. I see that it is Hunter, and I could weep.

At the apartment. What’s wrong? Come see me, now.

The fact that he’s adamant about knowing what is going with me is endearing. I walk through the crosswalk and past the herds of students, pretending to push my hair out of my face, but really, I’m concealing myself from any further onslaughts of insults.

When I get to Hunter’s apartment, I release the breath I’d been holding in. I get to the door and go to knock, but it swings open, and I am struck by the ominous sight of Hunter standing there.

He is like a looming, nightmarish shadow – fists tight, thick ropes of muscles taut and standing out in his neck. His eyes have a sheen of light over them, yet maintain their gloomy brood.

“What happened?” he demands.

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