Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 32 "How are you feeling?" Melissa stands in the doorway like she owns the lease on my suffering...and rent was due last week. My eyes flicker open to stare at the wall beside my bed. The sofas downstairs are uncomfortable as fuck. I spent an hour tossing and turning down there before skulking back upstairs, grabbing a towel from the bathroom, and laying it down on the bed so I could get some sleep. Seriously, the back seat of my car was comfier. "Tired." I'd rather pass out than keep playing chicken with my uterus.

Period pain's been trying to dig my ovaries out with a screwdriver since dawn. If I had a pain chart, I'd be looking for the one with the noose around its neck. It makes no sense. My period usually lasts a couple of days. By now, I should be deciding whether to risk not using a tampon. Instead, I'm having to replace my tampon every few hours. Then there's my brain, which is hopping around in my skull like a frog with too many Red Bulls in its system. Comfort is a delusion. Sleep is impossible. And peace of mind is something that happens to other people.

Because apparently my body likes to torture me more than the men in my life. "Still cramping?" "Hence why I'd really like to go to sleep and wake up when it's all over." Or never. I'm not fazed either way. "You really shouldn't be skipping more classes," Melissa says, her voice moving to her closet as she keeps talking. "I've got some pills that will help with the pain. After you've eaten something, obviously." I wish I had the will to laugh. I'm hungry, but too nauseous to eat. Plus, outside is the last place I want to be right now. Alive is rapidly rising into second place.

"All I need is sleep...and your notes." "She demands," Melissa says pointedly. "Please?" I keep my eyes shut, willing her to stop being a bitch, even though I know I'm being one. "You're letting them win, Haven." For a second, I think she's talking about Bastian and Kai and the third figure who'd been lurking in the corner last night. Guess there wasn't space under the bed for dear Uncle Lenny this time-Kai was already there. But she doesn't know about them. Can't. Which means she's talking about Ezra, and all the people still circulating the video of the 'prank' he pulled on Friday night.

I force my eyes open a crack. She's rooting around in the top of her closet, her back to me. "This? Now?" "Stop feeding the trolls, Haven. Best thing you can do for yourself is walk in there with your head held high." "Ugh. Stop feeding my headache." She turns, shaking her head. "Look, I don't know what landed you on the Jordan's radar, but soon as you stop reacting to them, they'll get bored and move on." I look away, and let my stinging eyes slide shut. "Think I care about them?" "Think I didn't see what Kai did to you at the G's party on Saturday?" I laugh again.

Kai was treating me like a fucking princess. Rolling back to face her, I squint over at her as she studies an orange prescription bottle. "You see what I did to him?" She flashes a tiny smile. "Knee to the groin? Looked brutal." Then her face is serious again, her curtain of sleek red hair shifting as she shakes her head. "You should tell someone, Haven." "You mean the teachers haven't seen the video of Ezra and me by now? Or they have, and they couldn't care less?" I finally relented and turned on my phone this morning.

I closed out all the notifications and missed calls without even looking at them, though not before I spotted that same number Kai used to message me on Saturday afternoon. Being bullied isn't on my to-do list. Damage control is, though. I searched for the video of Ezra collaring me at the Rain Dance so I could see just how bad it was, because it seems I've repressed a lot of what happened that night.

But the sites that had the keywords I was searching for either led to paid news blogs that cut me off before I got to the video, or apps forcing me to log in to 'see more.' Turns out you need an email address to log in anywhere. I had a Gmail account a while ago, but I lost the password. When I tried signing up with my phone number, the verification kept failing. Part of me is desperate to see the video. To see how pathetic I looked with that collar around my neck. How many people were laughing at me. The other part knows it'll send me spiraling.

"Professor Rooke cares," Melissa says, yanking me out of my bitter thoughts. "He rushed you out of there like you were dying." Cares? Nah, he just couldn't wait to get me into his bed. "Men are mentally unstable, narcissistic assholes. Can't live with 'em, will get thrown in jail if I kill 'em." A snippet of last night's nightmare drifts up in my mind like a body floating in a swamp. My nausea wells up, but I tamp it down with an extra-hard swallow. "Much as I'd love to hang around when you're in such a fantastic mood, I have classes to attend. And, apparently, notes to take," she adds dryly.

Not like she wasn't going to take notes anyway. All I'm asking is for her to share them with me. She sets the prescription bottle down on my nightstand. "Here. For the cramps." "Why are you being so nice to me?" She crosses her arms, leaning back on one leg to study me. Her fluffy, pastel green skirt and jacket silently taunt the rumpled, stretched-out tee I slept in. "You make it sound like a crime." I sigh. "No, but usually people only do nice things because they want something, and I have no idea what you could possibly want from me." "Oh, right." Melissa spares me a tight smile.

"Let me guess...your parents lectured you non-stop on what corrupt, narcissistic pedos all the rich people are, right?" "Parents? Lecture me? Please." I grimace as I'm wracked with another sharp cramp. "My mom died before I was five. My dad would have sold me to the lowest bidder if he'd been clever enough to figure out the whole human trafficking thing." "Yeah, well, my family isn't all unicorns and rainbows, either. My parents fight all the time because my mother makes so much more money than my dad. Like it's her fault she's such a good sales rep?" "Seriously?" My voice is deadpan.

"You're right. I shouldn't complain." Melissa purses her mouth. "I'm sorry your childhood was so rough. I can't even imagine what that must have been like. But I'm here to talk about it, if you want." I squint at her through slitted eyes. "Why?" She flashes me a micro-frown. "What do you mean, why?" "Like...why do you care, Melissa?" I wave a hand around our room. "Your old roomie got tossed, I get thrown in here instead, and all of a sudden you're my best friend. You got a secret trailer trash fetish I should know about?" ...you really are trailer trash...no wonder you're still a virgin...

My memory hates me. Ha. Joke's on Bastian. I'm not a virgin anymore, am I? Guess Professor Rooke's the one with the fetish. Maybe it's just the light in here, but Melissa looks a touch paler than before. Could be anger. Could be guilt. Impossible to know unless you're schooled in reading micro expressions. "I didn't like her anyway," she says, waving a hand toward my bed like she's granting me a wish. Just let the other fucking shoe drop already, please. Make. It. Stop. "She was totally OCD. Her bedtime routine lasted two hours." Melissa wrinkles her nose.

"And...she was...into girls." I quirk an eyebrow. "Homophobic much?" Her face goes slack. "It's not like that. I get undressed here. How'd you feel having to strip down in front of a guy whether you wanted to or not?" I laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth when Melissa throws me an indignant look. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. Just..." I twirl a finger by my temple. "This, uh, random thought-Okay, so I get it. She made you uncomfortable. But, come on..." I sweep a hand down my body, self-deprecating smile on my mouth. "I don't?" She shrugs. "I can get used to a lot.

Even the smell." "The smell?" My head thumps as annoyance builds pressure behind my eyes. "That perfume or whatever you're wearing lately. I hate sandalwood." She flips her hand like my stench is a minor issue. "And if you must know, I didn't have a choice. Hillary said you're in, so you're in. So I'm just trying to make the best of our...situationship." She sniffs. "At least you're funny when you're drunk." "What doesn't kill you, right?" Melissa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose like I'm the one giving her a headache.

See, this is why I shouldn't go around questioning people's motives. Now I know Melissa isn't my friend-she's just putting up with me. Bastian doesn't want to save me, he wants to build me up, and then tear me down like the antithesis of a DIY project. And Kai? A sneer pulls at my mouth. Kai doesn't hate me for calling him a loser and leaving Agony Hollow like a thief in the night. He hates me because someone got it in his head that I've slept with just about every guy in this town...except him.

And I guess that rubs him the wrong way, because when I gave him the chance to sleep with me, he wasn't into it. I glance at the pills. "So, uh, totally unrelated...but what would happen if I took the whole bottle? Also, could I have a really, really big glass of water?" Melissa carefully reaches for the prescription pills. "God, Melissa, I'm joking!" "I can bring you more." "How? You're not going to be here." She hesitates, then leaves the pills on my nightstand. "Sure you want to stay here by yourself? Everyone else is in classes until this afternoon.

Even our houseboy won't be in until later." "Good," I mutter. "No one to hear me scream." At least that gets a small purse of her lips, but before she turns to leave, her eyes still linger on me with something that might be genuine concern. Wouldn't know, really. Never encountered it in the wild. I dry swallow two of the pills and snuggle back into bed, willing them to get to work so I can drift off and get some much needed sleep. But my eyes keep popping open again, so I roll over and grab my phone to check the time. A new message notification...from Bastian.

@rooke.bastian Morning, Miss Lee. Just checking in. Remember, I'm here if you need to talk. I scoff, dropping the phone face down on my chest. The only talking Professor Rooke does is things like, "don't spill my coke," or, "you like that," and, of course, "don't speak." ...it's time someone fucked this pretty girl... God, how can I be in this much pain and still get horny? I'll probably bleed out if I came now. But I still unlock my phone. Still go to my messages. And still reply to Bastian, because apparently I'm willing to risk exsanguination to have his attention.

@lee.haven What would we talk about, professor? Latest content published on FindNovel.net I don't expect him to reply right away. I mean, he's probably getting ready for his lecture. Or having breakfast with one of his many friends. Intellectuals and fashion models, members of the board, CEOs, I don't fucking know. People he can discuss literature and politics with. So when I see him typing a reply a few seconds later, my heart hops in my chest. @rooke.bastian Anything you'd like.

I bite the inside corner of my mouth as I try to come up with some witty reply, but before I can type anything, a link comes through. What the... Of course I tap it. I have a death wish, after all. VibeFeed? This is one of the apps I tried to search for my video on. I guess he wants to know if I have an account so he can stalk me on there or something. Does he really think I sit around and post selfies all day? As if. @lee.haven Don't have account And then, because I know what he'll say, I add, @lee.haven No email to signup. Phone number won't verify There.

That should put an end to⁠- He's typing. It goes on for a while, but the pain pills haven't kicked in yet, so I have nothing better to do than wait. @rooke.bastian Could just have asked. A text message comes through, welcoming me to my VibeFeed account. I stare at it suspiciously. @rooke.bastian Password: my-sw33t-g!rl I scoff. Because of course it is. @lee.haven Don't need social media @rooke.bastian I insist. God, stalk me harder, Professor, why don't you. I blow a strand of hair out of my face.

The urge to resist is strong...but isn't this exactly what I wished for the third time a social app told me I had to log in to see more? With this password, I could finally see what garbage people were posting about me. The extent of the damage Ezra caused. How deep the rot at Agony Hollow College has spread. My mouth shifts into a lopsided smile. @lee.haven Fine daddy have it your way @rooke.bastian I'm waiting. Sheesh, what do I have to do to get a 'good girl' around here? Suck his dick? Asshole. This annoyance is irrational. I probably couldn't handle his dirty talk right now, anyway.

I'm already pressing my thighs together under the blanket. I open the app and type in the password, using my mobile number to log in. The profile pic and bio is blank, but it looks like the username is... @bssweetgirl I giggle. I fucking giggle. And that's when I realize the pills have kicked in. And cheeesus, they're strong. Strong enough that when I see a new message notification inside the app, I don't even think about locking my phone and trying to go to sleep. @inherentvice There's my girl.

I don't know what's in these pills, but when I read Bastian's message, I'm hit with a full-body shiver that congregates between my legs. @bssweetgirl Feel safe now? @inherentvice I need to fuck you again. Well, that answers that. I jerk my shirt away from my throat, fanning myself with the fabric. @bssweetgirl Bad idea Should never have happened I need to focus on school She says, while skipping yet another day of college. @inherentvice You need to focus on taking my dick like a good girl. @bssweetgirl I said no @inherentvice Impossible. You can't speak with my cock in your mouth.

@bssweetgirl This is sexual harassment @inherentvice This is foreplay. I like foreplay. But I like fucking even more. I'll invite your friend. We'll have a proper play date. @bssweetgirl I sad no @inherentvice I sad too. We be happy together. I blink, taking way too long to spot my previous typo. @bssweetgirl Typo Took pills @inherentvice Pills? What pills? @bssweetgirl K will never I press enter before I finish the sentence and I can't even figure out how to edit a sent message, so I just continue. @bssweetgirl Ho to your juice Lord Almighty, what is up with my thumbs?

And why is autocorrect being a douche? Scratch that, what's up with my freaking eyesight? The harder I blink to focus, the blurrier the screen becomes. The app beeps with a new message and I try my best to read it, but it's just a smear. I'm getting dizzy fighting the pain killers. My mouth cotton-dry. I roll over, but I don't see water on the nightstand. Great. I doubt I'm going to make it all the way to the bathroom. That's when I spot the bleary silhouette of what might just be a water bottle on Melissa's night stand.

It's only a few feet way, but it feels like I'm at the starting line of a fucking Iron Man. You got this Haven. You⁠- I fall out of bed with a grunt and lie there as I wait for the world to stop spinning. This...may have been a mistake. Behind me, my phone pings with a new notification. I couldn't reach it if I tried. I roll onto my stomach and leopard crawl toward Melissa's side of the room. I'm not sure how far I get, and I don't even care that I don't make it. I'm fucking grinning when the world goes dark. Fucking finally. Tally-ho bitches! Haven out!