Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I had no clue how he knew where to go, but I went with him. Down the aisle. Through a door. Down stairs that I hadn’t known were there. A door leading to the main area of the library opened. I tensed, but a staff member was there.
She nodded, pointing to another door. “Follow me.”
I got it then. Stone was snuck in and she was leading us through a hallway that only staff must use, till we got to a back exit door. She opened it, propping it open, and a nice and polite smile to us. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Reeves.”
“Thank you.”
Then we were out, and Stone was hurrying toward his truck. They’d allowed him to park in one of their staff slots, too. Genius. But a lot of students were cutting through the parking lot. It was right on the way from the main quad where the post office was and the Quail. It was a shortcut, and a group of guys were going past us. If I were to guess, freshman jocks on their way to a Saturday late breakfast or early lunch.
The group went past us, except one.
Stone kept his head down, waiting before cutting across the sidewalk.
The last guy glanced up, distracted, then swiftly did a double-take. “Holy shit! It’s Stone Reeves!”
“What?”
“Huh?”
His friends all drew up short, turning to look.
Stone gripped my hand, but lifted his head to the guys.
At the sight, all of their eyes got big.
“Whoa!”
“Hey, man! What are you doing here?”
“You a student? No. That doesn’t make sense.”
One of the other guys was studying me, and he nudged his buddy. “News is right. That’s his woman.” Both were looking at our clasped hands. He stepped forward, wearing a Kings ballcap, too. “You a student here?”
That question was directed at me, and Stone growled. He didn’t like that. “You don’t direct questions at her.”
The guy’s head snapped back. All of them stood at attention.
One held up his hands. “Just fans, man. Don’t need to be a dickhead.”
The one who saw us first laughed. “It’s Rampage Reeves in the flesh. That’s fucking cool!”
Stone cursed, then forced himself to take a more relaxed stance. “Look, guys. I can’t hang out. I gotta get her back. Emergency and all. Hope you understand?”
A few started nodding right away. The one who tried to ask me a question narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. “Nah, man. We may never see you in person again. Sign something for us.”
Stone’s own eyes narrowed, but they darted to the side.
Oh. Fuck. A phone was pointing right at us.
He bit out a growl. “Enough.” He ducked his head down, and immediately his hand went to my neck, pushing my head down, too. Then he led us to his truck. “Keep your head down. I don’t know if that punk got your face or not.”
“My face is already out there.”
“On gossip sites. Video by a student is a whole different ballgame.” His hand flexed over mine. “Sorry about this.”
He was apologizing. He was saving me, and he was the one apologizing.
I was such an asshole.
He opened my door. I got in, keeping my head low. And he was rounding, getting in his door. We headed out, but the group of guys had stayed, and every single one of them had their phones out, recording us.
“I’m sorry.”
He glanced over, frowning. “For what?”
“You had to come in there because of me.”
“I didn’t have to do shit. I chose to go in there to get you. I could’ve sent someone else, you know. I didn’t. Maybe think on that, huh?”
I—I didn’t know what that meant.
Seeing my look, he started laughing and shaking his head. “All I’m saying, maybe we’re not the enemies you like to think we are.”
“We were.”
He grimaced. “Not quite. I was a prick. You were a nice girl. You got resentful, and I wised up to how much of a dumbass I was. I think that’s the best summary for all this shit, don’t you?” We were pulling away from the campus, and he glanced back in his rearview mirror. “That’s gonna be all over your school’s gossip sites. You know that, right? People will figure out who you are.”
I sat back. “Maybe I should think about taking a leave of absence?”
His look to me was swift. “You mean that? I thought you were gung-ho about maintaining the ‘dream’?”
“That was before I found myself curled up in a ball in the library and I couldn’t move.” I picked at my nails, picking at nothing that was there, but I was picking at it, nonetheless. Shame and embarrassment was sitting heavy on my chest.
“That was a panic attack.”
No. “That was a full-blown meltdown. What if that happened in class?”
“Your school knows what happened. They said you could take a semester off. You’d just have to do summer classes instead.” He waited a beat, saying softer, “And my dad paid for the rest of your years.”