“I KNOW I MAKE YOU FEEL SOME TYPE OF WAY.”

—

your views of reegan meadows were nothing short of hatred. his teasing nature and his foul words landed him far from your good graces and he knew that. his bully type personality is what got him there.

even during your high school years, the now twenty year old wouldn’t stop at humiliation, but would go on to hurt you just a bit more each time.

both studying at Yale, you two see each other fairly often. like a week ago, in a dorm party where he’d refused to kiss you during spin the bottle. he’d laughed at you and basically called out your body too. he knew that would cut deep, and that’s why he said it.

the following week was brutal. for you, mostly. some of the girls who hooked up with Reegan would often give you dirty looks or tease you out loud, but other than that, it was all in your head. he hadn’t meant to affect you that much. he thought you were a big girl, a tough girl who could handle herself. that same girl who would one up him in all classes. who would call out his bullshit when he was dead wrong.

and when he started to see that you weren’t, it made him feel a type of way. not a good one.

he’d caught you late a few weeks later on your way back from dinner. outside campus with a cigarette in hand, his tattooed bicep flexing. he got your attention, rushing to block the dormitory entrance.

he stood tall over you. you couldn’t even look at him, the dickhead. he smelt of strong oak and cigarettes. it pissed you off.

what was he doing? what was he trying to achieve? did he pity you?

“Busy night?” His head tilted, dark eyes scanning you. even his look was judging.