Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
And now?
Now I plan on becoming such a permanent fixture in her life that eventually I'll start looking like the hero.
Amusing, how easy it is to manufacture perspective. It takes a few slight changes and boom, a shift occurs. She walks into the mailroom, this time, no longer looking over her shoulder but focusing like hell on the little box in front of her. Will it? Won’t it? Is she sweating? God, I hope so. I hope her entire body is on fire. My eyes trace the curve of her ass, the way she puts her hands on her hips before bending over towards her box. And I realize, in this moment, I am a completely unwell with how fantastic her jeans fit. Tight. So tight, I wonder if the threads would stretch out from the slap of my palm.
Fuck. I could grab ahold. Hard. Slap. Punish. Kiss. Tame. Fuck. Blood roars in my ears as I watch her as I try to slow down the intrusive thoughts and stop imagining myself slamming her body against those same mailboxes.
I was locked away too long.
I was gone too long.
The temptation to grab her and apologize later is too much. I want to punish her with my mouth, forget words, they’re useless, words spout lies, but my tongue will show her the truth that she won’t ever have it better than me, she won’t ever find it, no matter how hard she searches.
The cruelest sort of torture would be showing her how good it would be between us only to rip it away and laugh in her face, but I’d be torturing myself in the process, because even right now I’m having a hard time keeping myself from taunting her, from quite literally having a serious reason to go back to my room so I don’t do something stupid. Arousal refuses to leave it hit and wont’ let go so now all I can do is watch. My hand slides down the front of my pants, briefly, it’s enough for a low groan to escape. Enough. Not here. Not now. But it would be so good.
She’s in the mailroom now. I can’t see her. Maybe that’s a good thing. I need to cool off. Badly. I follow a few seconds later and stop near the entrance.
Watching.
Waiting.
Her mailbox clicks open.
Bills, advertisements, junk, and then like magic, there it is. I hoped for it, now I know it’s true. Boom. Red paper.
Smaller than the rest and easier to miss.
Interesting how it looks exactly like the one I was sent a few weeks ago. Clearly, the person behind the Dean’s List is also behind me being here. A faculty member? My dad? Lilah herself? She could easily send herself a letter to throw me off her scent. She lied back then; she could easily lie again.
She almost tosses it aside before finally noticing.
Fuck, there it is. The moment it dawns on her. You can’t fake that sort of reaction.
The panic sets in followed by the guilt, the fear, the complete…wait, my smile starts to fade. That’s not fear. It’s confusion. Why is she confused? What happened?
Her eyebrows pull together.
She reads it twice.
Then a third time.
What the hell?
Slowly, she folds the paper and shoves it into her pocket.
Not scared.
Not devastated.
Confused.
Really confused.
This catches my attention.
She reaches for her phone and answers it. “I know, I know, I won’t forget.” She pauses. “A club? Really? Ugh, crowds, loud crowds and drunk people, can’t wait! They better have good drinks or I’m leaving!” She pauses longer. "Hey, did you get that email today about The Dean’s List?"
Silence ensues. Interesting. I shift my weight and wait for her response.
"Yeah, same. No, I got one too but..."
Her voice weakens. "But it was weird."
Weird?
My jaw tightens.
Weird, wasn't the reaction I expected or hoped for.
"I'm thinking maybe it's a prank, maybe you’re right and someone’s just bored or something." She continues.
Liar. I snort to myself. No chance in hell she believes that, not even a little. After another minute she hangs up and turns.
That's when I step forward. Her entire body goes rigid.
Interesting.
I lift a hand.
Give her a small wave.
Then walk toward my mailbox. The second I open it, I know she's watching. I can practically feel her staring.
I pull out the stack.
And there it is.
Another red paper like the one before.
A sharp inhale sounds behind me.
She saw it.
Good.
At least she knows I’m not the culprit, like I’d need to stoop that low.
I glance over my shoulder. "Something I can help you with?"
Nothing. She practically bolts as the mailroom door slams shut behind her with finality.
I look down at the paper. Still grinning. At least until I read it. My smile slowly disappears.
Keep your enemies close, keep her closer. It’s a test Jude, unleashing the past decides your future. Can I trust you? Or will you become exactly like him?