As my tears dried, my eyes drifted up to the window and the figure looked down at me.
It was him standing there looking at his handy work.
There was something about the way he looked at me, so completely hard and ruthless, and there was something else lingering...a feeling I hadn’t quite been able to place until now in the library.
Pain.
I brushed away the thought because it absolutely made no sense. What would upset a guy that grew up in this kind of affluence?
4
“Treachery and violence are spears pointed at both ends;
they wound those who resort to them
worse than their enemies.”
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Kyler
“Why are you such a buzzkill?” Garth McMillian asked, taking another hit of his joint. His eyes were glassy as he leaned back on the disgusting couch. That thing must have every bodily fluid imaginable permanently embedded in it.
“Not wanting to be fucked out of my mind does not make me a buzzkill.” I took in the mindless flock parading around the room, one last summer hurrah before classes started. The guys looking to score some pussy and the girls looking to score a boyfriend.
“Hey, Kyler.” A sickeningly sweet voice came hurling at me. I glanced in her direction, another fucking lemming.
“Not interested, Katie,” I said, moving away before she could put her hands anywhere near me. This girl was fucking relentless. The odd part was that the meaner I was to her, the more she begged me to fuck her. I’m sure I could fuck her right here, in front of everyone. Hell, if I really wanted her to she’d probably suck off every guy in the room for me. She was just like all the other girls at the Academy; they only wanted me because I was unattainable. In three years, I’d never even been seen talking to a girl for more than the length of a sentence, yet they kept coming in droves.
Maybe that’s why Garth hit on me during my last summer home before boarding school started. I was fucked out of my mind and he had the bad luck of grabbing my thigh. I punched the shit out of him, quickly earning myself a reputation as a homophobe.
The sad part was that I didn’t give a fuck if Garth was gay. I actually liked hanging out with him, he was a cool guy--it wasn’t his fault he thought I liked dudes. I understood it; I brushed aside all the girls and seemed to hang out only with him. The truth was, it was easy being around Garth, we liked the same music, we both read a lot and he was chill, I could actually relax around him.
Many times we sat in silence and could just be, unlike most people looking to fill the gaps. I should have apologized, but after that, people really started staying away from me, and I liked it. Last summer, I saw a bunch of punk kids beating on Garth and I lost my shit and smashed their faces in. As I patched up Garth, I found myself telling him the truth about everything. I also gave him a warning that if he ever opened his mouth about my shit, I would kill him. Guess he believed me because he never talked about that night.
I guess you could say I bullied him into being my best friend. My only friend, really.
“Oh, come on, Kyler,” Katie cooed, her breath reeking of beer and nacho cheese.
“You know, Katie, next time you try to get with a guy, pop a breath mint. That stench couldn’t get anyone hard.” I winked and took a swig of my beer. I didn’t take my eyes off her. I knew one thing, eye contact made people feel uncomfortable and I really wanted Katie to feel like complete shit so she learned to stay the fuck away from me.
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?” She asked while digging in her purse and pulling out a pack of Tic Tacs. I laughed at how self-conscious I made her, but to be fair, I only told her the truth. Girls like Katie were the worst; I’d seen how mean and cruel she was to others. She wasn’t someone redeemable. In middle school she’d bullied a girl so badly that she actually killed herself. So let’s say that I felt the way I treated Katie was justified--one might even say noble.
I stepped closer to her, smiling, summoning as much charm as I could. I leaned over, loving the way she swallowed in nervous response to me.
“Why do you have to be such a slut?” I asked, before I backed off almost immediately, staring her boldly in the eyes. Shock and disgust twisted her face, but I knew deep down I’d turned her on, the way she squirmed and leaned into me told me as much. Too bad for her I would never touch her.
Her hand came up to slap me then, but I moved quicker and grabbed her wrist.
“Tsk Tsk Tsk. I don’t think Daddy would like picking up his little girl in a holding cell,” I mocked. I could just see her big-shot lawyer dad picking his little girl up at the police station. I was pretty sure she didn’t walk around her father wearing shorts that showed half her ass sticking out, or braless with her shirt so short that it just barely hid her nipples. That was the thing about most of these rich girls; they were so bored with their lives that they’d do anything to feel alive.
“I fucking hate you, Kyler,” she spat, her lips now shaking as embarrassment sobered her up.
“If only that was true,” I snarled.
“It is true! You’re a fucking asshole!” She
