Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
At that, I laugh. Damien Cross, my boyfriend? He doesn’t have a single boyfriend material bone in his arrogant body. “No, Jake, he is most definitely not my boyfriend.”
“Oh, okay, ‘cause it kinda looked like—”
“It looked like we all got caught where we shouldn’t have been. I guess he just singled me out. Trust me, I got tossed out just like you did.”
I fail to tell him I got tossed onto his bed and fucked until I couldn’t see straight. But that’s beside the point. It’s also history, so it doesn’t matter.
“Well…cool. I’m glad. I was bummin’ out thinking I didn’t have another chance.”
We stand there, silently offering one another a kind smile, until I look at my watch and realize class is starting. “Shit, we better get in. We both know Ms. Phillips is a stickler on tardiness.”
He waves his hand out, offering for me to go first, and steadies my waist when I almost slip again on the wet floor.
“…so be prepared to have a quiz on the scientific investigation of mental behavior and how it is analyzed by environmental causes.” Ms. Phillips writes the page numbers to read for our assignment. I’m still finishing the notes she put up on the board when a knock comes from the classroom door.
Everyone turns their attention to the door, including me, and I wish I hadn’t. Through the window, I spot Fredrick. A ball of nerves forms in the pit of my belly. After the way things ended on Saturday, I didn’t know if I would hear from Damien again. Everything between us always seems to be a struggle. I spent the last three days at war with what I really wanted. If he thought I was this helpless girl who couldn’t fight my own battles, he had another thing coming. It was my silence if he ever attempted to call on me again. But then, at night, while I laid in bed thinking about him, I secretly hoped he would call me, demand I come to him. But he didn’t. And now, I don’t know what to feel. I don’t have to look at Ms. Phillips to know she’s most likely wearing a frown when she walks over to address Fredrick.
I’m not sure how, but they seem to know each other. A question I don’t dare to ask right now. They make small talk once again, and he hands her a box, medium in size. She says her goodbyes, then her eyes are on me.
Shit.
She walks up to me and not so kindly drops the box on the desk. “Will you be expecting anything else today, Ms. Stone? Or should I keep the door open, just in case?”
The classroom laughs, and a few low whistles sound out.
“No, sorry. I’m not sure who even gave that guy a job at the post office. But I’ll make sure to let a manager know as soon as possible.” Her unhappy glare says she clearly doesn’t believe me. Or she knows he doesn’t work at the post office. Another question I’m curious to get answered.
The remainder of class is torture. I’m too afraid to open the box or even the card attached to it knowing it may send my professor over the edge. I’m certain Sylvia is just as curious. The second class ends, I pop out of my chair and stuff my things into my bag. I make the mistake of catching eyes with Jake, who smiles and looks to be heading my way. I wave, giving him the universal “see ya around” smile, and jet out the door. I head down the hallway, stopping in the bathroom on the other side of the building so Sylvia doesn’t find me. Once the stall is shut, I toss my bag to the ground and tear the card off the box.
I don’t realize my hands are shaking until I pull the small notecard from its casing and read the handwritten note.
Meet me at this address tonight at 9 p.m. Do not open the box until then.
124 Michigan Ave.
-D
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until sudden waves of dizziness strike me. I let out a gust of air and refill my lungs. The anticipation of what’s in the box kills me. It can’t be clothes. It’s too heavy. Unless he has a ball gag and chains inside. Probably is, since it may be the only way he’ll ever get me to comply. A spark of defiance sets fire to me. I press my fingernails into the crease of the wrapping but stop.
“Oh, come on. Just open it.”
But my hand doesn’t move.
“Dammit!” I stomp my foot and bend down, grabbing my bag. Opening it, I stuff the damn box inside, barely leaving room to close it, and leave the bathroom, keeping an eye out for my enemy as I race to my second class.