Silence can never be bought

You Really Are

As you drive back to campus, you try to think logically about Joel. On one hand, fucking him might give you even more leverage, if you could stay detached, but you're smart enough to recognize the poor odds of that. You also wonder if you should question his motives. He's never so much as hit on you until now that you have something over him. To be fair, it isn't out of nowhere - you held eye contact with him while he fucked your stepmother. You could've walked away as soon as your suspicion was confirmed, but you didn't walk away until he came, eyes locked with yours. Then, the next day, you went to his pool, took your top off, and made him jerk off.

-

When you get to your apartment, you bring Joel's jacket inside and drape it over your upper body, all the way up to your nose while you lie on your bed and scroll your phone. Chad, your kind-of ex, asks if you can talk. You start typing something, but when he texts you again to add a question mark, you decide to ignore him. You put on the jacket. There's a scrap of thermal paper with gps coordinates in the pocket. Out of curiosity, you search the coordinates and they're near Uvalde, but you don't find an address. The closest thing is an abandoned mall.

You put down your phone and turn up the jacket collar, then inhale it with your eyes closed. You get another text and it's Joel. For a moment, you feel warm and fuzzy, until you open it.

"Thinking of you." It's a surveillance picture of you topless in his pool. A pit opens in your stomach.

You can just picture his smug smile as his big stupid thumb pressed send. The picture disappears as your ears get hot. What does he think he's doing? You text him accordingly. You seethe. But there's another part of you – a hot, wet part of you, that only wants Joel more with every depraved thing he says and does. You almost wish the picture didn't disappear so you could admire his back and imagine what else could have been. . .

Imagine Joel getting in the pool with you, pinning you to the edge, his thickening cock pressing into you, rock-hard. Joel wrapping his arm around you, shoving his hand between your legs, pulling your swimsuit to the side, taking you from behind. His cock filling you up, one hand on your tits, the other between your legs. Bouncing you on his cock, zero gravity, your knees spread and bent. You get yourself off with very little effort by imagining this. It only briefly crosses your mind that, worst case scenario, the oxytocin of each orgasm may work to his advantage.

-

You have to work at the cafe the next day. It's gotten slower since summer session ended, but the bookstore still gets traffic from families visiting campus and whoever's still around. And as long as the bookstore gets traffic, so does the cafe.

Chad, your kind-of ex, comes in. You try to remain composed and professional, but it's humiliating having to serve him after he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you that you were never "together" after almost a year. He's wearing a t-shirt from the venue where you met when you saw his band play.

Your heart races as you write his name on a cup and he tries to get you to take your break. You refuse. He invites you to a party, then sits alone in the cafe for a few minutes, manspreading like he owns the place, watching you. Eventually, he leaves and your eyes well up in tears. You wipe down tables as a way to get a moment alone to compose yourself.

-

When you finish wiping down the last table, you stand up and get startled by someone standing way too close behind you.

Joel's low, gruff voice asks, "I reckon that's Chad?"

Your heart jumps to your throat. "What are you doing here?" Naturally, you're still mad about the topless picture – or at least, you feel like you should be mad.