Who Breaks First (Clearwater University)

A little crowd of students passes us, laughing and nudging each other, and they hand us a flyer, busting up even harder as they walk away. On the flyer, there’s a picture of Trent’s face, twisted in pleasure. It’s a still shot from the video.

“Jesus. I can’t look at this shit anymore.” Reese scrubs a hand over his face.

“Wait, hold on.”

I crumple the paper up in my hand and follow after the students. I don’t grab their leader and beat the shit out of him like I want to. But I do find out where they got the flyer. Dozens more of them are posted on the pillars that line the front of the building, and on trees and street lamps. They don’t each have the same photo, but different photos of Trent caught in the act. Looking off into the distance, I can see other people handing them out.

I return to where Reese and Trent are still standing by the entrance to the building, shaking my head. “This gets more fucked up by the minute.”

Trent has gone silent, like he’s totally lost the ability to speak.

“Oh, shit.” Reese curses, looking down at his phone.

“What now?”

“She’s posted the photos on social media. It’s on Insta and Facebook.”

“Not the video?”

“She can’t post the video. It would be taken down in a second.”

Before I can point out that I’m not sure that would stop Emma at this point, Trent moves. He bursts into action so fast it’s like a bomb exploding, and when he starts striding across campus with murder in his eyes, I know exactly where he’s headed.

Emma’s dorm.

26

Emma

Ever since everything went down, I feel a mix of satisfaction and dread.

I know I got Trent big time. I nailed him, and now, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to fall. I was amazed Leslie was able to access the student portal like that. She has some mad hacking skills, and I was able to plaster that shit all over the internet.

It was Leslie’s idea to do the flyers. She’s got a vicious streak that’s a little scary, but I was only too happy to have her help on this.

We stayed up all night printing the flyers, heading out onto campus while it was still dark out to tape them up everywhere. Leslie had to leave to go back to her parents’ house for the weekend, and I think she was honestly a little sad to miss seeing the fallout. But it’s for the best. I feel bad enough for roping her into this. I don’t want her to get in trouble for helping me when this whole thing was my idea.

Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the past twenty-four hours and the lack of sleep, I pass out on my bed around eight a.m., unable to keep my eyes open for a minute longer.

And goddammit, I have a dream about Trent.

He and I are on vacation with our parents in Hawaii, and one night, he comes into my room and locks the door behind him. I can barely make him out in the darkness, and he doesn’t say a word, but I know it’s him. He comes over to the bed, and when I open my eyes, he puts a hand over my mouth so I won’t scream.

But I wouldn’t scream anyway. Because in my fucked up dreams, I still want him.

He’s enraged for what I did at school, and he doesn’t ask any questions before taking out his lust and anger on my body, just like he did against my dorm room door that night. I don’t tell him to stop. In fact, I welcome it. His body is so much bigger than mine, his presence forceful and dominating, and I lose myself entirely in the need coursing through me. We have fierce, almost violent sex that makes my entire body shake with pleasure.

I’m on the verge of a toe-curling orgasm when a loud banging sound yanks me from sleep.

I jerk awake, panting from shock and disorientation and frustrated arousal. My panties are slick, and my clit is throbbing. I was about to come—in my dream and in reality.

“Jesus,” I mutter in disgust, running a hand through my hair.

Before I can catch my breath, someone pounds at the door again. I don’t have to be a genius to know who it is. Steeling myself, I get up and wrap my robe around me, ignoring the fact that my pussy is still aching.

That was a fucking dream, Emma. A fantasy. This is the reality. The hatred and the manipulation and the lies.

The pounding continues, and I rush to the door, hoping to open it before someone calls campus police. Swinging it open, I find Trent standing there, fury on his face. He’s flanked by West and Reese, whose faces are both set in unreadable masks.