Page 14 of The Bully Alien

Once class is over, I stand. "Don't worry about it. I'll do the assignment myself."

"Fuck that," he snaps. "I'll do it."

"No way. I want to learn."

"This assignment is pointless."

"What makes you think learning about—"

"It won't help me."

"Ah. Of course. It's not worthwhile to learn this because you know it all already." I roll my eyes. "How about this? I'll do the project for us since it's beneath you, and you'll answer a few of my questions?"

"No."

I narrow my eyes. "You're too damn stubborn."

"I'm not giving in to you," he says, his piercing blue eyes shining brightly, almost glowing.

It's mesmerizing.

"Then we're doing it together," I insist.

He grits his teeth. "Fine. Come with me."

In silence, we walk across Camus to Freedom Hall. I'm not at all surprised that he paid extra to have a room by himself. His privacy is important to him.

But I know his secret.

I shouldn't exploit it, but as we work, he can't seem to help himself, making snide comments if I have to ask about this or that.

"Excuse me for not being a fucking expert," I finally snap. "I'm trying to learn here. But you aren't a genius either, or you wouldn't be stuck here!"

"You don't have to remind me about that all the time," he snaps right back.

I eye him. As much as he's angry and bitter inside, I understand him. I felt that when I was captured and in the years after, when my PTSD had me in its claws. I lashed out at everyone around me, and my scar on my face? Not my only scar. I always wear long sleeves to hide the cuts I made into my arm. The scars are small, not noticeable unless you look closely. I didn't really want to kill myself, but there was something about feeling pain, of taking control and giving myself the pain versus someone else doing it to me that made me feel a little bit empowered, feel like I was finally in charge of my life again.

"It sucks being in a cage," I murmur, closing my eyes so that tears won't well. "You just want to be free, but everywhere, the walls close in until you can't fucking breathe."

"And you just want to roar," he says quietly.

I open my eyes. "Exactly. I bet your roar is more impressive than mine."

"You actually would roar?"

I eye him. "That's a question. If you want me to answer, then you need to answer one."

"Depends on the question you want to ask me."

I lift my chin. I feel embolden, and I want to continue to feel more and more.

And maybe I'm crazy, but I want to push him, see what he might do.

Because being rejected by him wouldn't hurt nearly as much if I tried this with a guy I really like.

"Can you get it up?" I murmur, reaching over from where we're sitting on the ground next to each other and touching his crotch.

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