Next morning, I opened the door and found MJ stepping out of hers. Hoodie and coffee, adding sleep still clinging, it made the holy trinity.
"Hi," I said, stepping onto the sidewalk like the air wasn't weird and she hadn't once tried to slap me into orbit.
She nodded. "Morning."
She didn't slow down. Just kept walking. The street was quiet. Mostly old folks out early or joggers pretending they weren't dying inside. A cab honked somewhere, a pigeon dive-bombed a bagel.
I fell in step. Neither of us said "let's walk together," but we did.
She sipped from her cup.
We reached the bodega on the corner. She ducked in, came back out with a bag of chips and another coffee. Tossed the chips at me without a word.
"Your hoodie's inside out," I said.
She didn't even look down. "So is your life."
"True."
I ripped open the bag. Crunched the first chip with zero grace.
She shoved the second coffee into my hand. I blinked.
"Am I dying?" I asked.
"Eventually."
"Is this poison?"
"No. But if you say one more dumb thing, I will regret not spitting in it."
I drank it anyway. It was sweet. Stupidly sweet. She had ordered the girly one. She always did. Half caramel, half insulin.
"Still putting enough sugar in here to summon bees," I said.
"Still talking like your opinions matter."
We passed the bus stop. Some old guy coughed on a bench like he was fighting God one lung at a time. MJ looked up at the clouds.
"You are wrong." she said.
I turned, bit into another chip. "What now?"
She groaned. "You were wrong about me. I wasn't--"
I laughed. "You wanna say you weren't keeping me around like a spare? Like your backup tire? Go ahead. Say it. I will wait."
She glared. Probably thinking she could melt my skull with pure rage. That never worked.
"We were friends," she said. "For so long. What made you feel that?"
"Because it was easy for you. You knew I was safe. You knew I would never say shit. I was your fallback plan. Maybe not even a plan. More like a safety net with a face."
She shook her head, more tired than mad. "That is not true."
"Really, for how long did you know I liked you?"
MJ didn't answer. She looked ahead like the sidewalk had something to say instead.
So I kept going.
"You knew. You always knew. You just never said anything because if you admitted it, that 'friendship' we had would not feel so guilt-free anymore."
Her grip tightened around the coffee.
"Let me break down that friendship," I said, crunching another chip. "It was me helping you with homework when you forgot to study. Me being there when your boyfriends dumped you, cheated, lied, or flaked. Me tagging along when you were seeing someone your family wouldm't approve of, so you could pretend it was just us hanging out."
She shifted a little, but still said nothing.
"I waited outside a movie theater for three hours once. Remember that? You asked me to come because your Dad wouldn't let you otherwise. I showed up. Stood there like an idiot because I had no money. You went in with him anyway. Never asked if I needed a ticket. Never even looked back."
Her pace slowed. Mine didn't.
"You could have offered," I said. "Just once. But you didn't. Because I was the background character. You never needed to think about me unless something in your life broke."
She stopped walking completely.
I didn't.
"You don't even remember half of it, do you?" I asked, eyes still forward. "Because for you it was all casual. Just friendship. Normal. And now?" I said, "Now I get called an asshole for telling the truth out loud. For saying what you would never admit."
She caught up, walking faster now. "That isn't what it was. I never used you."
I stopped walking and turned. "Then what do you call it?"
MJ opened her mouth. Then closed it again. Her jaw clenched.
"You are an asshole, Peter. You think just because a few sluts smile at you, you have changed and now you can say whatever you want." Her voice cracked. She turned like she was done. Like that was her mic drop. But I caught her hand before she could bolt.
She tried yanking it. "Let me--"
Before she could take that step, a truck tore down the street. Too fast. Close enough that its metal side would have scooped her up like roadkill if I had not yanked her hand just one second earlier. MJ stood there, frozen. I turned and walked away.
[System]: Sugar... that exit? That was full-on villain arc foreplay. You just walked off like your dick had a cape. +4 XP. MJ's confusion tasted like foreplay laced with regret. Yum~
When I walked into English, Mrs. Harland's eyes locked on me like her inbox had just gotten a scandal and she was dying to open it. This tight-lipped twitch like she was chewing on a secret. I sat down without a word, pulled out the book, and flipped it open. She probably expected me to stare at her and imagine the Grandma pussy she sent me.
MJ came in five minutes late and she walked straight to her seat, no eye contact. Bag dropped beside her desk with a little more force than necessary.
Gwen glanced at me, then ignored me. She probably thought whatever she had to say wasn't important enough to suffer whatever I was gonna say. Good call.
Cassie, though… different story.
She was leaning sideways in her chair. Eyes never left me. Not once during roll call. Not once while the projector clicked to life. The girl was starving. If she could have yanked me out of my seat and onto the desk mid-lecture without getting suspended, she would have done it with her tongue.
By the time Harland started discussing symbolism in The Scarlet Letter, Cassie was chewing her pencil like it was my dick in disguise. Every time she shifted in her seat, it looked like friction alone was gonna make her cum.
When the bell rang most students stood and grabbed their bags too quickly, doing the regular class escape routine. I was about to too, when Mrs. Harland called, "Peter, wait a moment. I need to discuss something with you."
Cassie twitched. Actual twitch. Like someone had yanked her soul out through her waistband. She turned sharply, eyes flicking from me to Harland and back again. Her fingers fidgeted around the hem of her skirt. She was barely holding it together.
Probably wanted to drag me into the locker room and ride me until the janitor quit... again. As she reluctantly left, she mouthed, "Need you Daddy."
Harland closed the door. She walked around the desk. Pretending it is casual but wants your eyes to follow. She leaned back on the edge of her desk, one hand on the corner, legs crossed like her classroom had become a courtroom and I was the case study. Her blouse looked tighter today, those buttons were fighting a war they were not winning.
She blinked, trying to be sultry. Looked more like her eye caught a lash and she was debating if rubbing it would ruin the moment.
"So," she said, voice trailing, "did something good happen last night?"
I tilted my head. "Something good? No."
That caught her off guard. Her mouth opened slightly, like she thought I was lying and also like she was already mentally scrolling through reasons to be offended. But her eyes lit up when I added, "Oh, wait. Actually, yeah. Something did happen. A random number sent me a picture from a fake account. Probably a virus. I deleted it."
Her posture shifted. She had braced for drama, not cyber safety. "You deleted it?"
"Looked sketchy. Zero followers. No name. Black icon. You know the type. Probably a crypto bro trying to sell dick pills."
She squinted at me, eyes narrowing. Not disappointed. Offended. Like deleting that dusty JPEG was a hate crime against horny educators.
Her arms folded across her chest, like she was hiding a loaded weapon under her blouse and was seconds from drawing.
'System,' I said in my head. 'You think she cracks, or plays the responsible adult card?'
[System]: Oooh~ baby, she is squeezing that thigh so hard, it can break your spine. This is foreplay disguised as professionalism. Give her a little prod. Make her beg in MLA format.
She licked her lips. Probably thought it looked natural. But her lipstick smudged a bit, and the corner of her mouth twitched when I didn't lean forward or pretend to be intimidated.
"You did good," she said.
Then she waved me off. Like that ended the discussion. As if saying "good job" erased the dusty JPEG she sneak-attacked my eyeballs with last night.
I stepped out of the classroom, walking toward the cafeteria. She was cautious. Too cautious. Fake accounts, burner profiles, no flirting in public. Sneaky with her silverback pussy like it was state secrets wrapped in grandma lingerie. Sending retirement thirst in secret, then pretending to care about essays.
When I walked into the cafeteria, the place was alive with noise but flat in spirit. MJ sat with her usual group, poking her lunch like it whispered something sexist. Her friends were talking, but she was checked out. MJB and Jessica were near the window, both silent, heads tilted down, barely pretending to be part of the social fabric. Harry and Zoey were at another table with the same two dudes from last time, probably negotiating the next great yacht-based economy or something. Rich stuff. Gwen was on her own at the far corner, earbuds in, eating with the focus of someone pretending solitude was a choice.
Cassie and Trixie were side by side at the end of one table, laughing over something, legs bumping like they were best friends since womb. Trixie had a half-eaten pop tart. Cassie just snorted at whatever was being said, her hand brushing against Trixie's.
I grabbed my tray, slid it right into the narrow space between them, "Since when are you two chummy?" I asked, popping a grape into my mouth.
Trixie giggled first. "Since we learned both of us are victims of your cock."
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You can read up to Chapter 85...
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