Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
* * *
Bonnie: Won’t be home tonight! Try not to miss me too much, k? I know it’ll be tough but I have faith in you!
I grin at the text. Bonnie is the best. Sitting up in bed, I type a quick response.
Me: Oooh, staying out on a school night, you bad girl. Let me guess, you’re having a slumber party with …Edward?
Bonnie: You mean Jason. He just looks like Edward. And nope.
Me: Todd?
Bonnie: Out of rotation.
I scan my brain trying to remember who else she’d been seeing these past few weeks. But I’ve kind of been distracted by all the wild sex I’m having with Cooper.
Bonnie: Tell ya what, hun. Gimme the name of your townie, and I’ll spill all the beans about my new beau.
She’s like a dog with a bone, this one. Bonnie’s been on my case day and night about who I’m dating. I feel bad hiding Cooper from her—she was there when it started, after all—but I also know that knowledge in the wrong hands is a weapon. I’m not sure I’m ready to arm that cannon yet.
Me: My townie is still my dirty little secret.
Bonnie: FINE! Then mine’s a secret too.
Two seconds later, she texts again.
Bonnie: Who are we kiddin’? We both know I can’t hide anything from you. His name is Ben and he is beautiful!
She follows it up with a screenshot of an Instagram picture featuring a tall boy with the face of a Norse god.
Me: Niiiiice. Have fun.
Bonnie: Oh I will. See you tomorrow!
I set the phone on the nightstand and pick up my anthropology textbook. It’s Monday night, and while I’d rather be naked in Cooper’s bed right now, we spent all weekend together. So I’m forcing myself to stay in the dorm tonight. Not just to keep on top of my course work, but because too much time together could lead to burnout and the last thing I want is for Cooper to get sick of me. God knows I’m nowhere close to being sick of him. I spend, conservatively, three full hours a day fantasizing about him.
So, like a good girl, I finish all my readings for anthropology and bio, write an outline for my English Lit paper, and go to bed at the very reasonable time of ten forty-five.
Alas, the good night’s sleep I’d hoped for doesn’t come.
Around two in the morning, I’m rudely awakened by three consecutive phone calls from Evan.
Followed by a text message that reads: Forget it. Not an emergency.
If anyone else had been serial calling me in the middle of the night while maintaining it wasn’t an emergency, I would’ve told them to fuck right off. But the fact that it’s Evan gives me pause. We only recently exchanged numbers, after the night of the storm when I had no way to reach him. So I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be abusing phone privileges unless it was, indeed, an emergency. Or at least somewhat dire.
I shove my hair out of my eyes and call him back. “You okay?” I demand when he answers.
“Not really.” There’s a heaviness weighing down those two words.
“Where are you?”
“Outside Sharkey’s. Can you come get me?” he mumbles. “I know it’s late and I didn’t want to call but—”
“Evan,” I interrupt. “It’s fine. Just stay put. I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MACKENZIE
Fifteen minutes later, I jump out of an Uber and scan the sidewalk in front of Sharkey’s Sports Bar. It doesn’t take long to spot him. Evan’s sitting on the curb, looking like a month’s worth of sludge at the bottom of a trash can that’s been left in the rain.
“What happened to you?” I ask, noting the blood smeared on the side of his face, his shirt torn at the shoulder, and hands scraped and swollen. I can smell the alcohol on him from two feet away.
With his arms propped up on his bent knees, he looks exhausted. Defeated, even. He barely raises his head to acknowledge me. When he speaks, his voice is strained and weak. “Can you get me out of here?”
It’s then I realize I’m his last resort. That turning to me for help is more painful than whatever he’s endured tonight and what he needs the most now is grace.
“Yeah.” I bend down to gather one of his arms over my shoulder to help bear his weight. “I’ve got you.”
As we’re getting up, a trio of guys rounds the corner. Wearing their Greek letters on their shirts, they shout something slurred and incoherent as they approach.
“Oh, hey, baby,” one says when his bleary eyes land on me. A slimy grin appears. “What you got there? Find yourself a gutter stray?”
“Piss off, asshole.” Evan grumbles a half-hearted insult. He can barely stand up straight, leaning on me for balance, but that isn’t enough to deter him from picking a fight apparently. Got to admire his fortitude.