Mackenzie
I SAT IN MY AMERICAN History class trembling, and not just at the blabbermouths in the bathroom. As calm as I’d tried to portray myself to be, Bruce had freaked the hell out of me.
I hated how vulnerable I’d felt when he’d backed me into that corner.
I hated the gleam of satisfaction I’d seen in his eyes.
I hated him knowing that he’d gotten to me.
More than anything, I hated how he’d known it.
“Are you okay?” asked Maya, who was also in the class. She sat diagonally from me. “You look upset.”
I pretended to be busy with my notebook and avoided eye contact with her. “I’m not. I’m fine,” I finally managed to say. I didn’t want to tell her what had happened. Not with so many nosy classmates listening in.
She lowered her voice. “You sure?”
I looked at her and forced a smile
