She made her way towards the halls but was stopped by Bradford Hewitt, one of the more persistent boys on campus. He was in Brooke's law class and she could tell he was only in it for the family name. The Hewitts' had money and connections galore, they primarily worked in oil, but Brooke knew they secretly dabbled in many other lucrative investments such as drugs, and the trafficking trade. Brad could have any girl he wanted, he had power, money and a body to die for. But no matter how many times Brooke had told him she wasn't interested, he would not take no for an answer. He had started wonder whether she even liked men, that was until he saw her with Jim Moriarty. The scrawny Irish boy who had supposedly killed a kid from his old school.
Still slightly dazed from her encounter with the Irish boy, Brooke didn't manage to evade the persistent boy. Brad grabbed Brooke by her arm and yanked her into a nearby cleaner's cupboard.
"Get off me you creep." She said trying to wrench her arm away but the older boy's grip was too tight.
"If you dress like a tart what do you expect." He said leering down her tight top with a sneer. Releasing his grip on her arm he placed a hand by her head and pinned her body to the wall with his hips. He slowly lift her skirt over her hips with the other hand. "One day you are going to give me exactly what I want. You're gonna act the slut we all know you are."
"In your dreams." She spat back, placing her hands on his muscled chest and shoving as hard as she could. It did little good, he grabbed her hands pinning them above her head, placing his chest against hers. He moved his head closer to hers, closing the distance between them slowly.
"Every night." He whispered before locking his lips onto hers. All Brooke could do was hope for a chance of escape.