Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
I grab my backpack with my laptop, hoping it’ll provide me with camouflage among all the other students. Not like I’d know how to blend in with this kind of crowd. I haven’t set foot on a college campus in the daylight since my sophomore year of high school when we all took a trip to the Empire State’s campus library. That campus had seemed way too big and overwhelming—like its own city. This campus is much nicer. Smaller. I can picture Molly on these sidewalks, darting between ivy-covered brick buildings to get to her next class on time.
I head to the small cafe in the middle of the campus. It’s in the basement of a building. Christ, I’m too big to hide if I run into Molly on the stairs. There’s no way she won’t recognize me this close up. I move down the stairs as quickly as my bad knee allows and push my way through the heavy glass doors. The scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon slaps me in the face. Four people stand in line ahead of me.
There’s an empty booth, three empty tables and a long counter with a few unoccupied stools. The only spot that gives me a clear view of the door is the booth near the back. Damn, I hope no one takes it.
The line moves fast. I order a black coffee and a blueberry-lemon muffin. If they serve these every day, there’s a good chance this is where Molly stops for breakfast.
I flick my gaze to the menu above my head. For a second, I panic, thinking they only accept student meal cards as payment but when I hand over a twenty, the cashier accepts it without comment and gives me my change. I drop the coins in the tip jar and slide down to the next window to wait for my order. It’s waiting for me and I grab it, then hustle to the table in the back.
I slouch down on the bench, take out my laptop, open it, but don’t bother turning it on. It’s just camouflage.
Eyes on the door, I sip my coffee and break off bits of the muffin and try to ignore the agony in my knee. The ride home’s gonna be rough. A steady stream of students rotates in and out of the cafe, their chatter echoing in the small space. People meet between classes, sit at tables and gossip about class. A few kids are busy on their phones, ear buds in, blocking out the world.
After the last few months I’ve had, I feel like I’ve landed on an alien planet. None of these kids look like they could last two seconds in a cage without crying for their mom.
I don’t belong here.
A heavy knot of doubt creeps up and chokes me lifeless. As much as I hated being at the Supreme Fighter mansion, I didn’t feel as out of place there as I feel now, listening to this nonstop babble.
The door swings open and my heart thuds faster. Molly.
Her long, brown hair’s a little shorter, and is it a lighter shade of brown? It’s layered or curled or something…different. But it’s definitely her. I’ve spent years memorizing the curve of her cheek, the set of her shoulders, her every movement.
She’s with a tall girl I don’t recognize. They seem familiar enough to stand arm to arm in line, talking while they eye the menu.
Molly’s making new friends at school. That’s good. Does she get along with her roommate? After living with Remy for the last few years, she should be able to tolerate the quirks of any roommate.
A solemn mood seems to cling to Molly. She nods and gives half-smiles to her friend. But her usual grin and laughter seem to be missing.
She’s between classes, not headed to a party. Of course she’s serious.
With my head cocked like an eager golden retriever, her voice is clear above the other noise as she steps up to place her order. “Vanilla pumpkin latte and a pumpkin spice scone, please.”
Scone? The fuck? The girl has never turned down a blueberry muffin as long as I’ve known her, let alone a lemon-blueberry one. It’s not like I bought the last one. An entire tray of them were in the case.
I slide down in the booth and tug my cap lower as Molly slowly walks to the end of the counter to pick up her order. The guy who hands it to her greets her by name. He touches her hand way longer than necessary as he passes Molly the bag. She gives an uninterested but polite smile and turns away.
Sorry, buddy. She’s mine.
But not really.
Not anymore.
Juliet hinted that Molly had a terrible summer. Remy hadn’t been as delicate—he said it had been hell on her after that stupid episode aired.