Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
The waitress comes over to collect the check, but I haven’t yet put my half inside. The cash is still in my hand. I open the padfolio, then look up at Sam’s face. “On second thought . . .” I shove the bills back into my purse. “You can pay the whole damn bill.”
“Elizabeth—”
Sam says more, but I don’t stick around to hear it. I’m already out of my seat and taking long strides toward the restaurant door. He catches up to me outside, just as I lower my arm and a cab pulls to the curb.
“Elizabeth, wait!”
“No, Sam. I’m leaving.”
“Just come home with me. Let’s talk about this. It’s really not a big deal.”
I ignore him and climb into the back of the cab, slamming the door shut.
“Twenty-Second and Second, please,” I say to the cabbie.
He looks in the rearview mirror. “The guy outside is still talking to you.”
“Just drive. I’m done talking to him.”
CHAPTER
5
Idon’t even like roses.
I pluck a petal from one of the flowers and briefly consider texting Sam to provide him with my thoughts on the originality of this delivery, which arrived three days ago. But that would mean answering one of his four apology texts, something I’m far from ready to do at the moment. I still can’t get over that he investigated me.
“Hey. You want to grab a bite to eat?” Aiden’s belt jingles as he walks from the bedroom to the living room, buckling it. Or maybe his name is Cayden? I’m not actually sure.
“That’s not necessary. You can go.”
He chuckles. “Damn. That’s cold. I guess you really meant it when you said you were looking for a quick hookup only.”
I smile politely. “Yes, I did.”
“Can I see you again?”
“I doubt it. But thank you. I had a good time.”
The guy shakes his head. Though at least he doesn’t argue. Aiden or Cayden or whatever the heck his name is grabs his jacket from the chair and heads for the door. “Take care, Emily.”
I don’t bother to correct him. Once he’s gone, I latch the chain on the top lock and fill the kettle with tap water. My insomnia is back. It’s been years since I had trouble sleeping, but I still remember all the remedies I used to try. I’ve been drinking lavender relaxation tea every night for the last week. It didn’t work half as well as my Tinder date to relieve the stress knots in my neck, but maybe the combination will finally allow me a good night’s rest. Sleep has eluded me since that mysterious chapter arrived ten long days ago. It doesn’t help that I still haven’t heard from the student who turned it in.
While I wait for the water to boil, I pluck more petals from the roses. Three flowers are completely dismantled now, and I leave their barren sticks in the vase and the petals strewn all over the kitchen counter. The look is more interesting than the original.
Once the kettle sings, I steep the tea bag and decide I’m not tired enough for bed yet. So I grab my laptop and a stack of English 101 exams I’ve already marked and sit down on the couch to enter the grades into Pace’s system. My computer fires up to the last page I’ve visited—the one I’ve stalked all week—my email. Nothing new has arrived since the last time I checked a few hours ago. At least that’s how it looks until my email syncs, and then suddenly it shows a new message on the screen.
It’s from her—Hannah Greer.
My heart pounds so hard that I have to shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths before I’m calm enough to read. When I click to open the message, I think I stop breathing altogether.
Professor Davis,
I apologize for taking so long to respond. I hadn’t checked this email until now. I assumed any correspondence would come from the school email students are instructed to use, not my private one. Attached please find the original file that was submitted. Please let me know if you have any difficulties opening this one.
Thank you,
Hannah Greer
The message is innocuous enough, a typical response a real student might send upon receiving an email from a teacher. But the response isn’t really what I’m after. I’ve already memorized the steps required to determine the location of the sender of an email, so I go right to the header, click to the received line, hit reply, and select show original to open full details on the origin. Once I find the IP address, I copy it and open a new window with the IP-lookup tool I’ve bookmarked. Instantly, a map pops up with a red dot planted on the United States. I can easily tell the sender is not in New York—the mark is too far south—though I have to zoom in to see exactly where the email has been sent from. When I do, my heart stops.