Bitter (A Dark High School Bully Romance)

“We’re playing a game?”

“No, you absolute forehead, Olive is playing a game. You didn’t do this when you dated boys?”

“I didn’t date much before I came here.”

“Actually, that does not surprise me in the least. All right. So here’s the deal—Olive is angry that you ghosted her. But she’s angry because she likes you now. She’s trying to make a big show of hating you and moving on, getting over you, to convince you that she’s fine. And also to convince herself. Are you following?”

“Seems complicated,” I reply. “Also, didn’t you say dating Olive was a death sentence?”

“Well, now that Jasper secretly wants to jump on that tiny dick he thinks you have, maybe you’ll be safer.”

“Oh my God.” I feel so, so bad for my imaginary penis. Everyone’s being so mean to it. And my own feelings are a little hurt, surprisingly. I know the intent behind the words even if I don’t have the particular thing Olive insulted earlier.

“Find a date. That’s the only advice I have for you.” Rafael scoops up his pamphlets. “I won’t be able to help you until the dance is over, and it’ll be too late by then. I have a lot of shit to do.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Won’t you seem like a loser if you don’t get a date?”

He shrugs. “Everyone knows I’m gay.”

I hesitate. “Do you think other gay guys will ask—”

“No.” He’s gone flat. “They won’t.”

My heart aches, and I want to ask him about it. I want him to elaborate. But Rafael’s face has gone blank, his eyes lifeless, and I know that if I pry, it’ll just tear open his wounds for my curiosity.

“Coming out as queer in any way is basically cutting yourself off from your own livelihood. Giving up your family’s fortune.” He shakes his head, his gaze still fixed blankly on the wall. “So, no, Alex. They won’t ask.”

I don’t reply. He walks past me and out the door of our dorm. I’m alone.

Something it seems I’m going to have to get used to in the coming weeks.

The next morning there’s an assembly in the gymnasium. I’ve actually never been in here—lacrosse always takes place outside on the heated field—and I’m startled by how big it is. It’s more like an indoor amphitheater than a regular gym.

And since it’s not actually ever used as a gym, it doesn’t smell like one either.

Like everything here at Bleakwood, it’s somehow outdone itself.

I drift in on my own, searching for Rafael but he’s nowhere to be found. He really is busy. He didn’t come back to the dorm until well after midnight last night, and he was up before I was this morning. From the way he was talking last night, he has enough of his own shit to deal with. It sounded like I wasn’t the only one a little shaken by their trip back home over

break.

So, without wasting any more time looking for someone I know I’m not going to find, I plop myself into an empty seat and try to stay away from The Brotherhood. It doesn’t work. It’s only minutes before Heath drops down next to me.

“Lacrosse today,” he says, his voice short and charged. He fixes me with a stare that’s impossible to ignore.

“Yeah, chill,” I snap back. I don’t want to deal with any of their shit today. I already have enough on my mind. This stupid winter dance is all anyone’s talking about, and Rafael’s warning from last night won’t budge from its place center stage inside my head. I know he’s right. The only thing that’s going to save me from Olive’s relentless mocking is if I somehow find another date.

At the very least, that might buy me a little space in the coming weeks … if not respect. Respect is too much to hope for.

“Any idea what this assembly’s about?” I ask begrudgingly after a few minutes of silence, waiting for something to happen. I have to talk to someone, and since Heath is the only one here, it’ll just have to be him. Maybe it’ll at least make him stop shaking his leg incessantly. He can’t seem to sit still beside me, not for a second.

“Probably about the mono thing. Some of the girls have it, too.” Heath twitches, and I look over at him, startled. What the hell is wrong with him?

I’m prevented from asking by the dean getting himself behind a podium on the gym court and adjusting a microphone, causing muffled thumps to echo through the huge room. He’s not the only one there, however. The head of Grandview, Dean Robin, stands behind him and off to the side, her arms folded across her chest as she surveys the student body above her.

Of course she’s here too.

“All right,” the dean says, and everyone falls silent. “First things first—welcome back. Hopefully you all got a nice break.”