Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He hums. “You’ll be safe in the classroom. That’s probably why no one got out of the car. It’s broad daylight, and campus is busy.”
I exhale. “Okay. You sure I shouldn’t, like, go to the police?”
“Definitely not,” he says. “I’m leaving now. I’ll keep you updated. Stay safe, Noah.”
I hang up, glancing all around me again like I’m expecting guys to suddenly fall out of the trees and shove a black bag over the top of my head.
But it’s fine.
Peaceful again, honestly.
Fucking weird morning this has been.
I woke up with morning wood so hard I swore it could put a hole through my sheets, similar to the way I’ve been waking up every morning this week.
And the fucked up thing is that I wasn’t even dreaming about sex.
I couldn’t remember most of my dream, but the core of it was something weirder.
I was just dreaming about being touched. Not even on my dick at first, but just a warm embrace from behind, being touched by hands that were… strong. Capable. Something I’m not used to, and that made me stiff as fuck in the dream and in real life, apparently.
I woke up, showered, and tried to shove it away.
But when I ran into Torin in the kitchen like I do each morning at breakfast, I couldn’t keep it together.
He’s kept his promise.
He hasn’t shown up at my door, or come into my room at night, or even barely spoken to me at all this week.
He said it would be a one-time thing and…
It was.
It’s been seven days now and he hasn’t so much as made a single sexual joke.
Something bumps into me from behind suddenly and I gasp, turning around fast like I was burned.
“Holy fuck,” I say, whipping around.
It’s not an attacker.
I let out a long breath.
It’s not even a stranger.
It’s Bree Harris, and she looks just as surprised to see me.
“Sorry,” she says. “Noah! I didn’t know you were here for the summer.”
She glances down at my phone and I lock it fast, shoving it in my pocket.
“Fuck, I am glad to see you, Bree,” I tell her, not mentioning that it’s because I was afraid there was a killer behind me instead.
“Glad to see you too. You look great.”
“Heading into my first class. Ancient Civ 201,” I tell her, forcing myself to smile even though I just got a text that’s still putting a shiver down my spine.
Her eyes go wide and she smiles. “I’m in that class, too. Fuck, I’m so glad. I need a study buddy.”
Bree is one of those people who seems to look better every time you see her. Her brown hair is in two braids and she’s wearing a beautiful yellow summer dress that’s tight as hell around her curves, but still somehow tasteful.
If it were a normal day, I’d be able to launch back into a hopeless crush on her just from seeing that dress, but…
Again.
Weird fucking week.
Back in high school, we were just fuck buddies.
After the rooftop incident where we got caught, she distanced herself from me for a few months, but then we had a bad habit of falling into each other’s beds after campus parties in freshman year of college.
Both times I asked her if she’d be my girlfriend, she declined.
It fucked with my head both times, too.
Bree’s parents are both successful, wealthy cardiac surgeons who are deeply involved with Dad’s volunteer work, and I’ve known Bree since we were in elementary school. Dad has never hidden the fact that he thinks Bree and I would be perfect for each other.
I used to think so, too.
Still don’t know what the hell I want to do with my life, and Bree is an academic superstar who will be an incredible surgeon one day.
She deserves the world.
“You remember the first day of chem lab, sophomore year?” Bree asks me as I join her in walking up the steps into the building.
I scratch the back of my head. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, I’d rather not remember that.”
“It was a little bit fun, you have to admit. Everyone in class loved you for it. Bringing a flask full of tequila and secretly passing it around during class is every college kid’s dream.”
“I never should have done that.”
She hums. “But we had fun afterward.”
I fucked her behind that building after class, up against a goddamn air conditioning unit.
We were both tipsy and at the time, nothing in my life felt like it had any real consequences.
“I’m a changed man now, Bree. If my sophomore self met me, he’d call me a fucking boring snooze.”
“Not a fan of sex anymore?” she jokes.
“I haven’t been drinking, actually.”
Her eyebrows shoot upward. “You’re joking.”
“I am not.”
We both take seats near the middle of the classroom. The chairs and desks are all wooden and surprisingly comfortable, and one by one, more students are filtering into the room.