TESSA.

“Athletes’ entrance. Keep your head down.”

Reed said it like he was doing me a favor. My legs still shook from the driver’s seat. His come was sliding down my thigh under the skirt. The backpack straps cut into my shoulders because I had never taken the bag off.

He badge-swiped the side door. The hall smelled like bleach and turf. Between periods the locker room was empty. Rows of metal. A clock over the sinks. 8:48.

“Twelve minutes,” he said. “Professor takes attendance at the door. You walk in late and everyone looks at your mouth.”

He backed me into the side bay, the one with no cameras...