Page 49 of Hurts So Good
She tested me on it. Switching up where she sat each class, with the same result.
“Hello, Hilary. How are you today?” I slide into the seat beside her, my legs splaying out, cradling the desk in front of me between them.
“G-g-good,” she stammers.
Leaning over, I whisper, “My place today. We need to work on our project. I want to ensure we both get an A.”
“What!” she says loudly, everyone turning in their seats to face us. One menacing glare from me has them all snapping their heads back to the front. Professor Miller clears her throat and continues her lesson, not once acknowledging the outburst.
“You heard me. We need to work on our project, and I have time today.”
“What if I don’t?”
She’s suddenly showing a bit of spunk and I like it. Feisty little firecracker. My cock twitches in my pants, suddenly wondering if we need to change our plan and find someone else.
But that tendril of thought dissipates with her next words.
“What time?” She quickly composes herself, tilting her head down to hide her face as she scribbles something on the paper on her desk.
“Five.” I reach over and tear off a piece of her paper, quickly scribbling the address on it. “Don’t be a minute late.” I place it on her desk then stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and head out of the class. The bitch of a professor doesn’t even say a word. Why would she? I’d end her if she did.
I know Jensen is at least in class. Hals is a different story. Not wanting to hang around campus, I make my way to my jeep. We need to talk about the weekend before Hilary comes over. Though she’s the final event of the evening, we still need to make sure the three other events go off without a hitch.
None of us wants to earn the wrath of our fathers. A vacation to hell would be more desirable than that.
Once I’m in my vehicle, I blare my music, the pounding beat of the song vibrating the seat under me, helping clear my mind for what’s coming. My head bobs with the song as my fingers tap on the steering wheel. All the anxiety about the weekend melts away. It’s the last one we have to report to our fathers, though we plan to continue the tradition. For us, the thrill of tasting the blood is far too great.
Before I know it, I’m pulling into the driveway of our house. Hals is home, his truck sitting beside me. Just as I expected, Jensen is missing. His motorcycle is nowhere to be seen. People think because I’m not into sports and wear glasses that I’m the studious one, but it’s actually Jensen.
I open the front door to see Hals sprawled on the couch, a plate in front of him while he watches sports highlights from the weekend.
“Where’s the nerd?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food, pieces falling on his lap.
“She’ll be here at five.” I plop beside him, putting my feet on the coffee table, and swipe the beer from his hands. “When is Jensen coming home? We need to finalize the plans for Friday.”
Hals picks up his phone checking the time. “Should be here in like twenty or thirty minutes. The dads will be calling at three-thirty, so he won’t miss that. Not with the way his dad’s riding his ass. I’m not sure why since it’s our fourth year of doing this.”
I take a swallow of the beer, then rest the bottle on my leg as I rub my fingertip along the glass surface. “Yeah, I’ll be glad when we’re free from them and we can do this the way we want.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth. I’m sick of them having to approve our selections like we’re fucking kids.” Hals snatches his beer back, splashing some on his hand as he does.
“I hate that we have to hear them preach about why we’re doing it. I could recite the fucking thing word for word,” I grumble.
“Good, when we have kids and it’s their time to pick up the torch, you can give it. Fuck, go ahead and practice it now.” He laughs. The prick thinks he’s being funny, but I’m going to beat him at his own game.
I stand and move in front of the television, blocking his view.
Clearing my throat, I remove my glasses and give my best impression of my father.
“We’ve been upholding this tradition for five generations. When it first started, it was just random days. A way for our families, bonded in their love, controlling their lust for blood and violence, to ease their deep-seated desire. Each generation strived for perfection, and with your grandparents’ fine-tuning, we saw no need to change anything, as you won’t either.”
I clear my throat again, pausing for a moment as I pretend to gesture toward the picture of our grandfathers, each of them covered in blood and wearing their mask of choice.
“Dude, you look just like your old man.” He’s doubled over, laughing.
As I’m about to open my mouth to start again, Jensen opens the door, stepping into the living room. He stops mid-step as his gaze shifts between us.
“What the fuck is going on?” He drops his keys on the table and his book bag on the floor.