Page 76 of Lessons in Cruelty

“So much taken,” I mutter sourly.

We tap our glasses and throw back the tequila.

It’s like swallowing oil. Only someone set it on fire first.

“So, chronologically from the fifth message,” Melissa says, holding up my phone again. She glances toward the dresser. “Names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

That makes me giggle, because thinking of Professor Rooke as innocent is hilarious.

“Person one. Thank you for your submission. Person two. Sorry about today.”

She reads the rest of the messages while I try not to spontaneously combust. Then she blows out a breath and gives me back my phone. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

I clap my hands over my face when she wins again. “This sucks!”

She rubs her hands, clicking two of her rings together, then shakes them out and draws the next card.

“Hmm…” Melissa looks over at me, eyes narrowed. “Another shot.”

I don’t argue. Judging from her expression, she has a hard decision to make. We clink our tiny glasses and pour the liquid down our throats. She shudders, and I gag.

“I’ll suffer the consequence.”

“Really?”

She holds the card out to me between two fingers. “Yeah. I got this.” Then she leans forward and closes her eyes like she’s preparing for something.

I glance down at the card, and my lips purse into a bemused smile.

Cruelty

Review your partner’s appearance out loud in the most critical light possible.

Consequence

Allow your partner to slap you across the face.

I rub my hands together and shake them out, just like she did.

Melissa peeks at me from one eye. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Invasion of privacy sucks,” I say with a grin. I don’t add that getting the chance to mar her perfect face, or get her back for all the snide comments is going to fill cup until it runneth over.

“Yeah, well, I like it rough some—” She cuts off with a gasp as my palm connects with her cheek.

I didn’t mean to hit her so hard. The way her neck snaps to the side, it’s like her head almost came off.

“Shit, are you okay?” I scramble forward, grabbing her shoulder.

She knocks my arm away. “Is there a handprint?” she mumbles, straightening as she gingerly touches her face.

My lips twist. “Kinda.”

“Damn, girl. Remind me never to piss you off.” She gives me an admiring look, and her smile actually shows a glimpse of her teeth. Then holds out her arm, getting ready for the next round.

I crow out in victory when I win, crack my knuckles, and slowly ease the third card off the stack.

Straightening my arms and flicking my hand, I wriggle on my cushion to get comfy⁠—