Bitter (A Dark High School Bully Romance)

“I’ll be sure to thank them for you,” he adds.

“Yeah,” I reply stupidly. “Yeah, I—yeah. Thank them for me.”

My head swirls as I walk out of his office, clutching the pristine envelope that definitely feels like it has an airplane ticket inside. Who could have done this? The professor himself? Dean Robin? Why?

That’s when it comes to me.

Olive.

I feel that ache twist inside me turn wrong.

I stop in my tracks, looking down at the envelope in my hands with a sinking feeling of dread. This is a gift I can’t accept, not if it came from her.

I’d never be able to step foot inside this school again if I did.

But then the thought of going home grips me again, and I’m torn. How can I refuse this … especially when it’s already been paid for? It’s already too late.

I’m bent over the envelope and not looking where I’m walking—which means I run straight into someone. They grab my shoulders to keep me from falling, and I look up straight into Jasper’s stone-still face.

“Jasper,” I squeak out involuntarily.

He stares down at me. This is the closest I’ve been to him without him trying to beat the shit out of me. Up close, his jaw looks even more chiseled, his eyes even more intensely blue. His handsome face bears no expression. He’s like a marble statue, Michelangelo’s David, even, looking impassively into my face and past it.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, my voice coming out higher than I mean it to again. My heart starts thumping. He’s still got his hands on my shoulders, and they’re warm and huge. I should be terrified, but something about his face this time … it doesn’t look like he wants to murder me. Instead, the look there … it’s complicated.

“Make the most of it,” he says flatly.

“Make—what?”

He lifts one hand to tap the envelope I’m holding.

I look down at it, then back up at him as slowly I begin to understand what he’s insinuating.

“You?” I whisper incredulously. There’s no way. A shiver runs down my spine. Why would Jasper pay for me to go home and attend a conference?

Of course it wasn’t Olive. I was stupid to assume it was her. She didn’t even know about the conference. And as obsessed as she seems to be with me lately, deep down I know it’s just because I’m the one person here who doesn’t seem absolutely obsessed with her in return.

This gift home, it was too thoughtful for her.

And too thoughtful, I was sure, for someone like Jasper.

But then Jasper puts his hand beneath my chin and tilts it up, looking straight into my eyes. I feel a thrill of something in my stomach. We’re alone in the hallway; no one is here to see him holding me like this, staring down at me, his full lips parted like he’s about to kiss me.

I feel a crazy urge to stand up on tiptoes and close the distance myself, to press my lips against his and feel how soft they are for myself. I stifle it, thankfully.

It’s strange how close fear and attraction are.

I should hate his very guts, but here, this close to him, I don’t feel hate and fear. I feel something burning, right, but it isn’t rage.

And even when our lips don’t touch, I still can’t get the image out of my head.

Jasper clears his throat, one finger tapping on the top of the envelope.

“So we can never speak of the other night ever again,” he whispers, somehow keeping his voice hard. “This doesn’t mean you’re a part of The Brotherhood. But I’ll be damned if you spoil its good name.”

With that, he drops his hands and steps away, leaving cold air to flood where his warm hands just were. He walks past me without saying another word.

Alone in the hallway, I clutch the envelope.