Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
And to think, I've been sent here to kill her, I think to myself. When it’s close to 3:30, I return to the parking lot. I move to a parking spot close to her Jeep and wait for her in front of my car. My phone vibrates in my pocket, a text notification from her displaying on the screen when I pull it out.
Morgan: Hey, I'm on my way to the parking lot. I'm not sure where you're parked, but I'm in parking lot A near the English building.
Trent: I'm in the same parking lot. I'm standing in front of my car, so you can't miss me.
She gives my text a thumbs-up, and I slip my phone back into my pocket and wait. It's strange that I'm actually kind of excited to be going out with this woman—a woman I'm responsible for taking out if what we know about her is true. She's quickly growing on me, which isn't what I intended when I posed as a college kid to get closer to her. But the more time I spend with her, the more complicated this hit becomes. If I'm not careful, I might end up compromising this whole mission and cost many lives if I end up being wrong about her.
"Hi," a sweet voice says, pulling me out of my musings. I look down to see Morgan smiling up at me. She looks beyond me at my car and gestures toward it. "Nice car."
"Thanks. Always had a thing for more sporty vehicles." I slip my hands in my pockets. Something unfamiliar passes over her face as she looks between me and the car, an unspoken question in her eyes. It's then that I realize I might not be playing the "college kid with a rough life" role as well as I think I am. I can only imagine how it looks to say that I struggle to make ends meet while driving a car that was the price of a small house. I clear my throat to break up the uneasy energy. "Ready to go? I can drive."
She hesitates for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek as she looks back at my car. "I think it's best if I follow you. I don't like leaving my car on campus," she finally says.
I nod. "Cool. I know this diner nearby that has the best food. Just follow me," I say as I head over to the driver's side. She nods and quickly crosses the parking lot, getting into her Jeep and starting it up. I led her through traffic to a small casual diner not far from campus. She hops out of her car and approaches me.
"I've passed this place many times but never thought to stop here," she says as she falls in step next to me.
"It was one of the first places I discovered when I moved here." I open the door for her and allow her to walk in ahead of me. The different scents of fried foods waft under my nose and make my stomach growl as we weave through the occupied tables and settle in at an empty one near the back. "Since you've grown up here, I'm surprised you've never been here."
"Honestly, I don't get out a ton. My dad kind of...hovers a lot," she says. Her gaze falls to my hands and frowns. "What happened to your hands? I don't remember them looking like that when I saw you this morning."
I look down, noticing how my knuckles were red and a little swollen from my run-in with Matthew. "Oh, it's nothing," I say, waving her off. "I accidentally scraped them against a wall earlier. Kinda tripped and tried to catch myself before I fell and scraped my hands in the process."
Even though she nods, I can tell she doesn't believe me. Scraping my hands explains the redness, but it doesn't explain the swelling. Thankfully, she picks up her menu and focuses her attention on it.
"Well, what's your favorite thing to eat here?" she asks, switching the subject. "There are so many options on here that I don't know how to choose."
We spend the next hour talking about different topics, favorite music, favorite foods, and favorite movies. Watching the way she talks animatedly about things she loves fills my chest with warmth. The longer I sit here with her, the harder it is for me to believe that she's a potential terrorist. Her body language is open and accepting, making it clear that everything she's saying and how she portrays herself is genuine. Even with all the conversations I've overheard from her today, nothing sticks out that labels her as a threat. It only makes me that much more happy to know that I didn't kill her earlier, even more so now that I'm getting to know the woman she truly is.