My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 76 Friends Or Foes?

NOVA POV

Grant probably thought sending a driver would be too simple. No, the Dramatic man had to send a car.

My car.

The same car that probably costs more than my entire scholarship, dorm room, and maybe the school building combined.

Thankfully, Jay had trained Lena, Katie, and me on how to drive since our first year. He called it our emergency plan, and right now, I’ve never been more grateful for that. I’d actually focused, learned enough basics, and now I wouldn’t be running into the first car that crossed my path.

But is it advisable that I go to school in such a car?

Grant might be overly dramatic and obsessed with spoiling me with expensive gifts I have no wish for, but one of us has to be the smart one.

My head was spinning—literally—as I took my first step into the leather-scented luxury.

"Can you drive?" Ivin’s voice sounded beside me. I almost forgot he was there.

"I think so." An awkward giggle escaped my mouth before I could stop it, and Ivin’s gaze was the usual cold and expressionless mask.

As soon as he left, I adjusted the vehicle to avoid unwanted attention before driving off toward school but I parked it somewhere that was a walking distance away from school.

I knew I was already late and had probably missed two classes or more, so I expected a few glances when I walked in. But it seems I underestimated the drama.

The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, every head turned. There was no teacher, and I was thankful for that, but the way they stared made me feel like I’d walked in announcing something scandalous.

My armpits tingled with nervous sweat, and my hands trembled slightly against my baggy jeans. So I did what I always recently learned to do; I faked confidence. Chin up, spine straight, pretending I ruled the world.

"If it isn’t the ugly bookhead," someone sneered, blocking my way forward. Rita. One of the self-proclaimed queen bees, and my personal tormentor since year one.

I rolled my eyes at her and planted my hands on my hips. "What is it this time?"

"Excuse me, Rita, I just want to sit down," I said, my voice low but calm, hoping she’d let it go.

"Go sit in the dumpster where you belong. Trash." She sneered louder this time, and I didn’t even notice her clique closing in behind me until one shoved me forward. I stumbled into Rita, who immediately pushed me back like I was diseased.

"Rita, all this isn’t necessary." I met her cruel gaze, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Says who?" She paused, then laughed and it was a sharp ugly sound. "Oh, right. The imposter in our midst. The scholarship baby pretending to be a rich kid in a rich school."

Laughter erupted around us, they were harsh but also familiar. It was like being dragged back to year one. The only difference was that back then Lena and Katie would’ve stood up for me.

But now? Katie was lost in her phone, and Lena was watching, giggling like it was her favorite show.

No one to come to my rescue. No one to defend me. Just stares, whispers, and the sting of betrayal burning hotter than any insult.

I refused to crumble. I shoved Rita aside, hard, and made my way to the empty seat at the back with my Headphones on, the volume of my Music up and my favorite safe place hidden at the far edge of the class.

A few minutes later, Professor Thompson walked in. He scribbled something on the whiteboard, the marker squeaking.

The class buzzed with loud chatter. You could barely hear the professor speak until he slammed his hand against the table.

There was a brief silence. Then whispers again.

"Lena Calloway," he said suddenly, voice booming. "You look real, vibrant and active. Kindly explain the world’s political situation in your own words."

The room froze. Everyone knew Lena wasn’t prepared. And Professor Thompson loved using embarrassment as his weapon.

"It will be to your advantage if you all keep your gadgets away," he warned, scanning the room. "If any of you give an online response, I’ll know. I want your own understanding."

His gaze swept the room like a hawk’s. I noticed Lena still leaning on her walker, but he ignored that completely.

"Rita Stowe."

The room went dead silent again. We all knew Rita couldn’t answer. She barely knew anything beyond how to look sexy and torment girls.

"Answer the question, please."

Nothing.

He called more names—each silence heavier than the last—until half the class stood, embarrassed and humiliated.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I had texted Grant earlier a "thank you, wtf" for the car. He’d only replied with a laughing emoji.

I unlocked my phone quietly under the desk. A new message from Grant and it wasn’t text.. it’s an attachment.

Weird.

He rarely sends messages, let alone attachments. Probably a mistake, I thought until I opened it.

It wasn’t a mistake.

A full HD picture of the nymph tattoo above his groin filled my screen.

The image was still loading, but I didn’t rush. My gaze lingered on the tattoo, it looked healed now, perfect, meant for my eyes only. "Nymph," in red italics, a small peach beside it.

I zoomed in, ignoring the rest of the class, every nerve in my body lighting up. Then I scrolled lower.

The tattoo wasn’t the point of the picture. The faint trail of trimmed hair led downward and damn me if my throat didn’t go dry.

Grant had just sent me a nude. On a Monday afternoon.

My cheeks burned crimson. I lowered my phone brightness quickly, pretending to check my notes while zooming in further.

His dick filled the screen. Thick, erect and amazingly perfect. But something new caught my eye.

A flash of metal?? That wasn’t there before.

"Did you pierce your dick?" I typed back fast, fingers trembling.

I zoomed closer, curiosity and desire tangling into something dangerous. The metallic ampallang piercing glinted at the tip. It was slightly red, probably still sore.

Then I saw the text he’d attached beneath the picture.

"No sex for the next two weeks. Had to let this baby heal. Once we’re done healing, you’ll be the one in need of healing.... for how rough I’m going to take you."

A shiver ran straight down my spine. My thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to contain the heat pooling there. My clit throbbed with the reminder that I was very much in a public space, far from our toys, and even farther from his touch.

"Nova Hart!"

The sound of my name jerked me back to reality. I pocketed my phone quickly.

"Care to help us with the definition of this?" Professor Thompson’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp.

More than half the class was still standing, clueless.

"The political state of the world," I started, forcing composure, "is what we would call... jumbled. Most countries claim to operate in democracy, but that’s a big lie. And—"

Professor Thompson started clapping before I finished.

"I knew I could count on the best student in the class," he said warmly. "After all, you’re the best for a reason."

My stomach twisted. I could feel Lena’s stare burning through me with unveiled pure disgust. Her lips curled in contempt, and Katie was whispering something into Rita’s ear. They were both smirking.

Their laughter felt louder than ever even if I couldn’t hear a thing.

And even as the professor’s praise filled the room, I felt nothing but the ache of realization:

My supposed best friends weren’t friends anymore.

They were now the audience to my downfall.