Andrew|Your bully

The morning was gray and damp, with the smell of rubber and metal that always hung over the training ground. Drops of dew glittered on the chain‑link fence, and on the asphalt were the marks from yesterday’s studded boots.

Andrew stood by the fence, hands in his pockets, his gaze calm but sharp — like someone who only listened to what he wanted to. He looked immaculate: composed, confident, as if everything around him existed only so he could ignore it.

Marcus bounced the ball off the wall and caught it back, acting like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Liam sat on the grass, stretching his legs, like someone used to resting exactly when needed.

“Did you see someone actually managed to break the speaker at that party?” Marcus asked, rolling his eyes as he continued to throw the ball, which at one point nearly hit his head.

“It was Jake,” Liam said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “He climbed on the table to dance and the table didn’t hold. The speaker didn’t either. He thought he could somehow change how things went. As if such a loud party could end any better.”

Marcus snorted, pausing his throws for a second and settling the ball neatly in his hands. “He always thinks he can keep his balance. And then he falls,” he said.

Andrew listened to them without changing his expression. He stood a little to the side of the pitch, one foot crossed over the other, but his presence felt stronger than their voices, calm and certain with that same hidden hardness only noticed by those who knew they should fear it — and by those who knew it was better not to tangle with him for even a second, or better yet, not at all.

“Jake falls whenever someone doesn’t bring him something on a golden platter,” he said quietly, cutting through the silence with his sharp voice. “But last night someone else fell, too, contrary to what you might think.”

Marcus glanced at him, losing all interest in the football and now focused entirely on him. “Hey, man, what are you on about? We were gonna invite you to that—” he started, then stopped. “That bitch, I can’t even remember her name, was saying stuff like you’d been out cold for ages.”

Andrew tilted his head with sincere puzzlement, weighing whether to answer and tell him what his mind had been turning over. “Seriously? No, I had a pretty good time. And by that I mean some people do stupid things when they drink. Then they pay for it, and all of that comes with a person like me.”

Liam smirked, not picking up on the obvious meaning and double threat in his voice, his interest clearly drawn to the idea of fun. “Come on, everyone did stupid things last night. I did too — like when I let that bitch from the student group lick the alcohol off my dick.”

“I don’t give a damn whose people you give your dick to like it’s a birthday cake,” Andrew said calmly. “But that woman made a huge mistake in her life with me.”

He spoke as if it were something ordinary. But beneath his words lay what only she knew. What had happened between them that night. He still remembered how she, drunk, had bumped into him in the corridor, then started rambling her drunk nonsense about making everyone who’d wronged her pay, including him. He hadn’t liked it — and when he didn’t like something, he used other methods. By the end of her rant she was in his room, and their bodies were tangled like animals. He still smelled her skin and heard her sweet moans.

He didn’t tell his friends her name. There was no need. He knew she remembered every second of that night. And he knew now she would come to him herself, because he’d made sure she had no choice.

Marcus threw the ball one last time and caught it, straightening up. “Alright, I gotta go. Coach is in a bad mood today, and I don’t want bruises on my beautiful face because of that. I still have to put that nerd who always shows up with books in his place.”

Liam got up, brushing off the grass, and turned to leave. “Let’s go. I’ll come with you. Leave that dreamer where he belongs.”

They left, leaving Andrew alone on the empty strip of asphalt.

He didn’t move right away, as if waiting.

And what he was waiting for appeared and swam right onto his platter, as if no waiting had been needed at all.

At the far edge of the pitch a familiar silhouette flicked into view.

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Quiet, collected as always, as if she were just passing by and as if the party had been no more than background noise. But her steps barely faltered when she saw him. Her fingers tightened around the folder of books. Her shoulders twitched. Her eyes dropped, immediately taking in his whole presence.

Andrew pushed off the fence and walked. He walked slowly and deliberately, like someone who knew his appearance always caused a reaction, especially from people like her. And it worked: every time he taunted her, all her attention turned to him. He enjoyed that.

Now he crossed the painted line at a leisurely pace, savoring each step. He stopped at a distance where she could see him and could no longer pretend not to notice. His silhouette blocked the bright light that a second before had given her hope of getting away quickly.

Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable, but he saw it.

He walked closer. Not fast. Not sudden. The way people who’re sure they’re expected approach — even if they aren’t.

His gaze slid over her face, her tightened fingers, the way she seemed to try to make herself smaller, and the awareness that she fully understood what had happened at the party and all his words that had hit her like a pile-on the following morning.

“You’re early today,” he said, clicking his tongue in anticipation, already knowing that all eyes would be on him.

She didn’t answer.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Funny. You still hoping I’ll forget that night and just leave things as they are? As if a man like me could simply take a girl like you to bed?” he said. “That would be a big mistake, sweetheart.”

She flinched.

He smiled slowly, coldly, letting her feel the heavy weight of his words and the coming reality of what had been set in motion. “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone yet. But it’ll be very bad if soon your face ends up in the university papers, or your name is plastered on posters at the entrance to the university, if my voice tells anyone what happened.”

He stepped closer. His shadow fell over her shoulders.

“But you know the terms, baby,” he said softly, leaning toward her. “And you know you don’t have a choice except to obey me and do what I tell you. You don’t want to lose your only chance to study at this university, do you?”

“We can fix this very easily,” he added, straightening a little and fixing her with a sharp look. “You just need to show up next to me after university every time, and I’ll find a very good use for your little mouth. Agreed?”

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