The orientation is exactly what I expected, boring speeches about campus policies, awkward icebreakers, and a tour led by an overly enthusiastic junior.
By the time the orientation wraps up, my stomach is growling loud enough to draw stares from the guys around me. My group leader, a perky junior named Madison, tells us we're free for the day.
The cafeteria is packed with students, a sea of noise and movement as I navigate through the lunch line. I grab a greasy burger and fries.
Finding an empty table near the window, I drop my tray and slump into the chair. Groups of chattering students fill the tables around me, but no one approaches. I could join them if I wanted, put on the charm, make some friends, play the game. But what's the point? Every minute spent with these strangers is a minute wasted.
Instead, I pull out my phone and open my notes app, adding to my growing list of ideas. "Operation: Get Kayla to hold me down while I act like a brat" needs refinement. The masturbation incident was promising, but she recovered too quickly. Maybe something more public? The risk of discovery might push her over the edge. Or perhaps a different approach...
My thoughts are interrupted by the sudden presence of someone sliding onto the bench right next to me, not across, but directly beside me, our thighs pressing together through our jeans. The scent of cigarettes invades my personal space before I even look up.
"Hey there, pretty boy. Why's someone as delicious as you eating all by himself?"
I glance sideways to find a tall, intimidating girl with dyed black and red hair leaning into my space, her leather jacket creaking as she props an elbow on the table. Her eyes rake over me with predatory interest, lingering on my unbuttoned collar. A half-smoked cigarette dangles from her fingers despite the clear "No Smoking" signs plastered around the cafeteria.
In my old world, I probably would have gone insane for this type of girl. Now, I just feel irritated at the interruption.
I look at the girl, her eyes watching me with a hunger that would send most freshman boys into a panic. But all I see is an opportunity.
"Actually," I say, leaning in conspiratorially, "I'm working on something important."
She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my lack of intimidation. "Yeah? What's so important you're sitting here all alone with that sexy little frown on your face?"
I tap my phone screen, weighing my options. This stranger might be exactly what I need, someone with no connection to my real life, someone who won't judge the depths of my depravity.
"I'm trying to figure out how to get my sister to rape me," I say casually.
The girl chokes on air, her eyes bulging as she half-inhales her cigarette smoke. She pounds her chest with a fist, coughing violently.
"What the fuck?" she wheezes, drawing stares from nearby tables. Her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "Are you fucking with me right now?"
I shrug, maintaining eye contact. "Well, I figured you look the type to partake in a bit of rape here and there." I lean in closer, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Care to help me?"
She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes unblinking. Then, without warning, she bursts into laughter, a harsh, barking sound that draws even more attention our way.
"Holy shit, freshman. You've got some serious fucking problems." She extinguishes her cigarette on my lunch tray, grinding it into my fries. "Like, clinical-grade issues."
Despite her words, she doesn't leave. Instead, she studies me with renewed interest, like I'm a particularly bizarre specimen she's discovered under a rock.
"So, what's your deal? You got some kind of sister-complex or something?" She tilts her head, her multiple earrings jingling with the movement. "Or is this just how you get your kicks, shocking random strangers with your fucked-up fantasies?"
"It's not a fantasy," I say calmly, picking up a fry that isn't contaminated with cigarette ash. "It's a goal."
She snorts, reaching over to steal one of my fries. "A goal? Jesus Christ." She chews thoughtfully, then swallows. "You know, most guys just want to get laid by a hot senior. You're aiming for incest and rape. Overachiever much?"
"What can I say? I'm ambitious." I pop another fry into my mouth, watching her reaction with mild amusement. The shock value is wearing off, but she's still here. Interesting.
She studies me for a long moment, a slow smirk spreading across her face. She extends her hand.
"Autumn. Autumn Summers."
I almost laugh at how dumb her name is, but there's something in her eyes that stops me. A dangerous intelligence that feels oddly familiar.
"Travis," I reply, taking her hand. Her grip is strong, almost painful, her skin rough with calluses.
She doesn't let go immediately, instead pulling me slightly closer. "How about you be my little brother for the day, Travis? I can give you exactly what you want." Her voice drops to a husky whisper, her breath hot against my ear. "A taste of what it feels like to be controlled, dominated, taken... by someone who isn't actually related to you."
I twist my free wrist with surprising speed, and suddenly, there's cold metal pressing against the worn leather of her jacket. Autumn's eyes widen as she glances down to see my pocket knife digging into her shirt right below her ribs.
"Sorry, but I'm already spoken for," I say calmly, the cafeteria noise continuing around us like nothing is happening. "I'm my sister's property."
Autumn's tough exterior crumbles instantly. Her grip on my hand goes slack, and those intimidating eyes fill with tears so suddenly it's jarring. Her face, previously confident and predatory, contorts with genuine fear.
"P-please don't kill me," she whispers, voice trembling and barely audible above the cafeteria noise. "Please, I... I've made so many mistakes in my life. I'm not ready to die."
I blink in confusion. This isn't at all what I expected. In my mind, she would have smirked, maybe even laughed at my little display of aggression. Called my bluff. Been really cool about this whole thing.
Instead, she's falling apart, actual tears streaming down her face now. Her body shakes with silent sobs, and she's looking at me like I'm some kind of monster.
"Woah, woah, relax," I whisper, immediately pulling the knife back and slipping it into my pocket. "I wasn't actually going to stab you. Jesus Christ."
Her tears run in streaks down her face as she hiccups through a sob. "I don't want to die in a fucking cafeteria," she whimpers, looking around frantically. "Do you know who I used to be? I was the quarterback, for fuck's sake. The star of this college before they kicked me off the team."
Several students at nearby tables are starting to stare, whispering behind their hands. This is not at all how I planned this interaction to go.
"Calm the fuck down. You're making a scene," I hiss, grabbing a napkin and shoving it into her trembling hands. "Seriously, it was just for show. I wouldn't actually hurt you."
She dabs at her eyes, smearing her makeup further. "You pulled a knife on me," she says, voice still wobbling but with a hint of outrage creeping in. "Who does that?"
I roll my eyes, leaning in closer so no one else can hear us. "Look, I need a favor. I need you to pretend to go on a date with me."
She stares at me like I've grown a second head. "Are you fucking insane? You threaten to gut me and then ask me on a date?"
"Not a real date," I clarify, keeping my voice low. "Just... I need someone to make my sister jealous."
Autumn looks at me like I've suggested we jump off the campus roof together.
Autumn's bloodshot eyes dart around the cafeteria, her voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "You'll kill me if I don't go on this fake date with you, won't you?" The question comes out more as a resigned statement than an actual inquiry.
"What? No!" I pull back, genuinely surprised by her conclusion. "Jesus, I'm not a murderer. It was just a threat."
She doesn't look convinced, her hands still trembling as she wipes the last of her tears. "Okay, okay. I'll do it. But after this, you have to leave me alone completely. I'm sorry I hit on you, alright? That was clearly a mistake."
I sigh, annoyed that this intimidating senior who minutes ago was the aggressor is now cowering like I'm some kind of psychopath.
"Just give me your number," I say flatly.
"Okay," she nods quickly, fumbling with her phone like it might save her life. Her fingers shake as she unlocks it and hands it to me.
I enter my contact information, then send myself a text to have her number. "I'll send you the details later."
"Okay," she agrees, her voice still tinged with panic. She stands abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste to escape. "I'll be waiting, I guess. Just... text me." Without another word, she backs away from the table, bumping into two other students before turning and practically sprinting toward the exit.