Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“That’s a really serious accusation, Sophie,” Elle calls after me. “Regretting hooking up with someone is not the same as being raped, and it’s really messed up that you would lie about something like that when there are real victims out there.”
The muscles in my legs turn to jelly. I’ve never enjoyed confrontation to begin with, but this is so fucking unjust, I feel like hurling. “You deserve each other,” I tell her.
“And you deserve to be lonely and friendless for telling such hateful lies,” she yells back.
Angry tears threaten to fall, but I don’t let them. I would die before giving either one of them the satisfaction.
I throw my bag in the passenger seat and slam the door closed. My hands are shaking so badly, I can hardly get my seat belt fastened.
It can’t be safe driving back to school in this headspace. When I get there, I find I can’t even remember half the drive.
Just like last night.
I’m going to get in a car crash and die if I keep letting all these people fuck with me.
The dreary day matches my mood. The gray and cloudy sky looks like it might storm.
I hope it does. A thunderstorm would be nice. I only wish I had my own quiet bedroom to enjoy it in.
I was right about the storm. By the time I get my car parked and I’m heading into my building, a few raindrops hit my exposed arm.
When I get the apartment unlocked and myself inside, rain pelts the windows.
One of my roommates is on the couch eating a bowl of cereal. Another is in the kitchen fixing herself a snack.
“Hey,” Sabrina says cheerfully. “Boy, you just made it in time. Rumi just went out to get an iced coffee. Her ass is going to get soaked.”
I’m starving. Now that the nausea has subsided and I see Sabrina munching on cinnamon toast, I’m realizing I was supposed to have dinner with Mom, but then I stormed out.
Seeing me eyeing her snack, Sabrina holds up her toast. “Want some?”
I shake my head. “I’m okay, thanks. Just realized I should have gone grocery shopping before I came back.”
“Too late now,” Kendra says, nodding at the window.
That’s too bad. I like to cook when I’m upset. It provides a nice distraction, and I could sure go for some comfort food right now. Maybe a nice flaky chicken potpie.
Dammit.
My tummy rumbles, but I shake my head. “I’m okay. I have some homework to finish.”
I head to the bedroom, but when I unload my books at our shared desk, I can still hear them talking in the other room. The walls are thin between the rooms. This is why I wanted to do my homework at Mom’s house.
All my safe spaces seem to be disappearing.
Sighing, I take out my headphone case, but when I turn my noise-canceling headphones on, the battery is dead. They’re so old and well-loved that the damn things no longer hold a charge.
Deflated, I plug them in to charge, but it will take a while, and I’ll never be able to concentrate when I can hear Rumi talking about the barista she wants to bang like they’re standing in the same room with me.
Since I know I won’t be able to study and I feel icky after the day I’ve had, I abandon my things in the bedroom and go to take a scalding-hot shower.
It doesn’t take much to make me feel frazzled these days, but today is taking the cake.
By the time I get out of the shower, the rain has stopped. I’m a little bummed, but I towel dry my hair and change into a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweats.
I’m still emotionally exhausted but feeling a bit better as I step out into the hall.
“Um, Soph, there’s some guy here for you.”
You have got to be kidding me.
“No. No more guys today. I’m closed for business.”
“He’s like… someone’s dad or something,” Sabrina says. “I don’t know, he’s old.”
A frown of confusion flickers across my face. That throws me off, so I follow her to the front door to see who it is.
A man in a neat black suit stands just outside the door looking dutiful. I get the impression he wouldn’t come in even if we invited him.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask him.
“Ah, yes. Are you Miss Sophie Bradwell?”
I nod.
“Perfect.” He hands me a garment bag. “This is for you. Mr. Koch requests that you change into it so that I might drive you to dinner.”
“Mr. Koch?” Sabrina questions.
Eavesdropping, Rumi asks, “Silvan Koch?”
Sighing, I hold the dress bag back out. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I told him last night I don’t want to go to dinner with him, and my answer hasn’t changed.”
My rumbling stomach chooses now to stage its protest, growling so loud that everyone in the room has to hear it.