Bad Intentions

Gabriel's POV

The ride back to campus was the loudest silence I have ever sat through. Derek didn’t say a word, his knuckles white on the steering wheel of that red sports car, while I sat in the passenger seat trying not to choke on the taste of him.

My throat felt raw, like I had swallowed a handful of gravel, and every time the car hit a bump, my stomach did a sick little flip. I kept my face pressed against the cold glass of the window, watching the neon lights of the city blur into long, bloody streaks.

When he finally pulled up to my dorm, he didn't even look at me. "Get out," he rasped. That was it. No see you at the wedding, brother. Just that serrated edge in his voice. I scrambled out, my legs feeling like overcooked noodles, and didn't stop running until I was behind the heavy oak door of my room.

"Gabe? Whoa, hey, you look like you just crawled out of a wreck."

Bradley was sitting on my bed, his laptop open, looking every bit the golden boy boyfriend I had spent the last five years worshipping. Seeing him was like finally finding an oxygen tank underwater.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and slumped against the door.

"My mom," I choked out, my hands trembling as I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"She’s... she’s marrying Derek Miller’s dad, Brad. They are getting married next month."

Bradley’s jaw literally dropped. "Wait, the Derek Miller? The guy who’s been making your life a living hell since freshman year? You guys are gonna be... stepbrothers?"

I nodded, sliding down the door until my butt hit the floor. I buried my face in my hands, my ginger hair falling over my eyes. "I honestly don't think God likes me very much. It’s like some sick, cosmic joke. My bully is officially being folded into my family tree."

"Hey, hey, come here," Bradley said, his voice dropping into that low, comforting tone he always used when I was spiraling. He walked over, hauled me up, and guided me toward the bed. "It’s okay, Gabe. It’s just a title. He can’t touch you if I am here. Let me make you forget about it for a second, okay?"

I wanted to revolt. I wanted to tell him that Derek had touched me, that I had just come from a roadside where my dignity had been stripped away. But I was so desperate to feel clean again, to feel like I belonged to someone who didn't want to break me. Before I could even get a word out, Bradley had flipped me over, his hands heavy and familiar on my hips.

The bed started that rhythmic, high pitched screeching almost instantly. It was loud, messy, and desperate. Bradley was slamming into me with a force that usually made me feel loved, but tonight, it just felt like noise.

My mind was a fractured mirror. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see Bradley’s face. I saw the way Derek’s sea-blue eyes had turned dark and lethal. I felt the weight of Derek's hand in my hair.

Is this cheating? The thought screamed in my head while Bradley groaned against my neck. Technically, Derek had forced me. It was a debt. A punishment. But the way my body had sparked under Derek’s touch made me feel like a traitor. I felt like a mess, a walking, breathing disaster of a human being.

As soon as we finished, Bradley was already pulling his jeans back on. "I gotta run, babe. Study group at the library. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I lied, pulling the duvet up to my chin. "I am fine."

He blew me a kiss and vanished. An hour passed in a daze of self loathing until my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Derek: My apartment. Now. 4th floor, Room 402. Don't make me come find you. I still have the book.

My heart hit my ribs like a trapped bird. How did he even get my number? And I didn't have a choice. that sketchbook was my entire life, my scholarship, my future, and my most shameful secrets were all bound in that leather cover. I threw on a hoodie and headed to the luxury complex on the edge of campus.

The hallway of the 4th floor smelled like expensive lilies and something sharper, iron, maybe. Or just wealth. Derek had texted saying the guards knew I was coming and to just walk in. As I approached Room 402, a sound started drifting through the heavy door.

It wasn't a fight. It was a wet, rhythmic thudding accompanied by the kind of low, guttural moans that make your skin crawl. My brain stalled. Was Derek having sex? Why the hell would he call me here for that?

"Open it, Gabriel," I whispered to myself, my hand hovering over the handle.

I pushed the door open. The room was huge, dimly lit by a single floor lamp, but the view on the bed was crystal clear. My vision blurred for a second, my brain refusing to process the image.

There was Bradley. My Bradley. The guy I had been dating since we were sixteen. He was pinned face down to the mattress, his back arched, his face buried in a pillow to muffle his screams of pleasure. And behind him, slamming into him with a brutality that made the headboard crack against the wall, was Derek.

Derek’s dark curls were damp with sweat, his muscular back rippling with every lunging motion. But they weren't alone. Another guy, totally naked and built like a tank, was behind Derek, his hands locked onto Derek's waist, moving in sync.

It was a train of human wreckage.

"Bradley?" the word came out as a broken wheeze.

The room didn't stop, but Derek’s head snapped toward the door. He didn't look shocked. He looked bored. He reached back and shoved the guy behind him away, the guy grunting as he stumbled off the bed.

Derek didn't pull out of Bradley, though. He stayed anchored there, watching me with those icy blue eyes while Bradley finally looked up, his eyes wide and glazed with a mix of terror and high-octane arousal.

"G-Gabe?" Bradley stammered, his voice trembling.

Hot, stinging tears finally broke and poured down my face. Five years. We had been together for five years. I had given him everything, and here he was, being used like a toy by the guy who bullied the crap out of me.

"What... what is this?" I managed to choke out, my voice sounding small and pathetic in the massive room.

Derek let out a short, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. He slowly pulled out of Bradley, the sound of it making me want to vomit. He stood up, completely unbothered by his nakedness, and walked toward me. He looked like a god made of granite and bad intentions.

"This?" Derek asked, tilting his head as he stopped just inches from my face. "This is a reality check, little brother. You thought you were the only one who wanted a piece of the Miller legacy? Your boyfriend here has been paying his dues for months."

I looked at Bradley, waiting for him to deny it, to say he was being forced. But Bradley just looked at the floor, his face flushed with a shame that wasn't deep enough to hide the satisfaction.