Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Quickly hustling my ass down the hall, I become all too suspicious of the doors around me, expecting one of my neighbors to jump out at me and drag me kicking and screaming into one of their apartments. Only, I know without a doubt those bastards are lingering out in the darkness of the street, Dalton Eros being the only reason I was able to escape with my freedom.
God, I really do owe him.
Finding apartment 106, I slip my key into the lock and push the door open before hastily locking it behind me and flicking each of the deadbolts. “Shit, are you only getting in now?” Cara asks from the couch.
I whip around, wide eyed as I find Cara exactly where I left her, Kindle still in hand. “It’s after three. How are you still up reading?”
“Call it a gift,” she says, sitting up straighter on the couch and eyeing the takeout bag in my hand, excitement drumming in her stare. “Is that my extra cheesy burger?”
“Yup,” I say, walking through the apartment and placing it on the counter as she pounces on it like a starved lion.
“I’m assuming since you’ve been gone all night, you got yourself a job?” she questions, pulling out her burger and getting stuck into it. I nod and she grins as though we’ve just gotten away with something. “Danny still an asshole?”
I really consider her question before responding. “I wouldn’t call him an asshole,” I muse. “More like an over-tired businessman who’s sick of having to deal with college students running his bar.”
Cara laughs around a bite of her burger. “So . . . still an asshole?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “A fair asshole though. The guy gave me a job when he didn’t have to and because of that, I can now pay my rent. Plus, the tips are pretty good.”
“Yeah,” she says with a heavy sigh. “I forgot about the tips. It was game night, right? I always used to rake it in on game night.”
“Sure was,” I tell her, walking around the island counter and finding a glass before filling it with water. “Bet you don’t get those kinds of tips working in the bookstore.”
“True,” she says, a grin stretching across her face. “But I also don’t get minimum wage in the bookstore.”
“Ooooh, checkmate,” I laugh, pulling out the chair beneath the counter and dropping my ass into it. “Hey, what do you know about the guys who live around us? Like, the scary as shit dude directly opposite and the guy just down from us—the one I share a bedroom wall with.”
“Apart from the fact they like to party and fuck? Not much,” she tells me, her burger hovering in the air in front of her. “They all moved in a few weeks ago at the start of the term, and apart from their parties, they keep to themselves. The guy directly opposite us gives me the creeps so I keep away from him, but he’s friends with the guy just down from us.”
“The one who likes to fuck?”
“No, no,” she rushes out. “Well . . . yes, he’s friends with him too, and don’t get me started on that guy. He’s a different kind of breed. He has this little black snake and it just—”
“Weaves through his fingers?” I finish for her.
“SHIT. YES!” she blurts out. “Is that not fucked up?”
“So fucked up,” I agree. “I saw him with it on my way out. I didn’t know whether to scream or shit my pants.”
“When in doubt, always shit your pants, girl,” she tells me, her burger long forgotten. “That guy gives me the shivers. I think his name is Cross, or maybe that’s his surname. . . I could be wrong. I don’t know, but either way, I try to keep my distance.”
“Good to know,” I say, chills sweeping over my body. “But if he’s not the friend you were referring to, then who is?”
“Oh, umm . . . I meant one of our other neighbors. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough. Shaggy blond hair, looks like a surfer dude. He will more than likely try to get you in bed at some point. His name is Sawyer, and he lives a little further down the hall.”
“Oh yeah, I know the one you’re talking about,” I say, picturing him as clear as day, sitting next to the two others at the bar and watching me all night. “So this creepy guy directly opposite us, what’s his name?”
Cara shrugs her shoulders, and I watch as her brows furrow. “I, uhh . . . I actually don’t know,” she says, staring off at the wall, deep in thought as though the name will magically come to her. “I don’t share any classes with him, and apart from the guys I see him with from our building, I don’t think he talks to anyone else.”