STRIPPED by Brooklyn Skye

Author:Brooklyn Skye [Skye, Brooklyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-05-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sociology. Derek settles into the seat beside me, thumbs to temples, looking like a homeless version of himself: rumpled shirt, one shoe untied, hair greasier than usual. His elbow bumps mine and, suddenly, every organ in my body reacts with the memory of his forceful hands on me.

No.

I shove the feeling away. I will not be scared of him and his douchebag ways.

“Rough night?” I clear my throat then say because if I’m stuck in the chair next to him for the next ninety minutes I might as well get this conversation over with. Besides, it’d be such a waste to let that hangover face go without comment. He meets my gaze and it’s not at all what I expect.

Red-rimmed eyes, shiny and glazed.

“Were you crying?”

“Quinn, I’m sorry.”

I sit up, my chair letting out a moan. “Wait. What?” He’s not supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to be an ass, tell me I’m not worth his precious time and break up with me. Leave me alone from this point on.

Staring at the front of the classroom where our professor, Mr. Burk, scribbles Greenpeace, Facebook and wriststrong bracelets on the board, Derek wipes his face with the back of his hand. Blood has pooled in a small purple puddle beneath his skin where Torrin’s fist must’ve made contact with his cheek yesterday. I’ve never wanted to purposely hang out with a guy, but for some reason thinking about Torrin and his gentle smile, soft fingers drawing lines on my arm, sends the urge coursing through me now.

“I said I’m sorry,” Derek repeats in a whisper, interrupting the thought. “For being such a dick. I shouldn’t have threatened you like that. I just…I was—”

“Stop.” He was jealous. The words are practically written on his crinkled forehead. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“But I am.”

“You’re not. You hate me.”

“No, I—” He stops, blinks. “Wait. You want me to hate you?”

Ah, maybe he’s smarter than I give him credit for. I pull out my textbook and set it on the desk. “I don’t want you to like me.”

“And you want me to break up with you?”

“Seems the appropriate thing to do. Don’t you think?”

“But—”

Burk cuts him off with the start of class. I turn back to the front of the room and let talk of collective behavior drown out the rest of Derek’s whining. Burk points to the words on the board and explains that collective behavior is not like conformity or deviance. It’s a third form of action that takes place when norms are absent or unclear, or when they contradict each other.

“Don’t you think you should write it down?”

Zoe scowls at me, her heels click-clacking down the driveway. “I can remember.”

I yank open the door to the Cadillac. “Mom just gave you a list of, like, twenty things to get. I’m just saying…you’ll probably forget something.”

She stops, knuckles growing white against her grip on the keys, face scrunched and growing red. “You want to write the grocery list down, Quinn, then fucking go ahead. I’m not writing anything.

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