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)
It never specified campus-related mistakes did it?
And that’s when my world comes crashing down around me as waves of anxiety float down my body freezing me in place.
Jude’s showing up.
Jude threatening me in the car.
Jude giving me free rent, making me feel safe like I escaped a burning building only to be carefully starting a fire around me that’s inescapable.
If he’s in control of the list that’s one thing, the two things do not have to be related. So why does it feel like they are? His family donates a lot of money, if anyone has access it’s him.
A guy with dark hair steps around the corner of the arts building and my entire body locks up. My pulse spikes so hard it hurts. But it isn’t Jude. Just some random student wearing headphones.
God.
I press a hand against my chest and keep moving.
This is ridiculous.
I’m ridiculous.
Still, every shadow feels wrong after that. Every deep laugh in the hallway makes my stomach twist. Every black jacket catches my attention long enough for panic to punch through me before logic catches up. And now I’m wondering if I’m going to see red when I go check my campus mail later.
I hate that he’s done this to me.
That somehow after one night he’s everywhere.
I reach Evans’ hallway and stop cold.
His office door is open.
Empty.
Completely empty.
The nameplate is already gone.
Good riddance.
A maintenance guy wheels out a cardboard box while two girls nearby whisper furiously.
“No way they cleared him out that fast.” He sounds panicked. Is he worried about the list too?
“I heard they found coke in his desk.” The other whispers. “He was high like every day.”
“My roommate said he slept with like six students.” The other whispers back.
Shit. I would be one of them. This does not bode well for me. I get closer and listen in.
“My TA said the Dean himself aka big daddy corporate came in last night.” She lowers her voice. “It was super bad, the guy can’t show is face in polite society for at least a year, his dad’s sending him to Europe though and completely cut his trust off, not that it matters, he’s got his own money. They’ll erase him and he’ll somehow come out of this married to some German Heiress, just wait.”
It’s like he never existed on campus, like the school decided to get rid of the stain as fast as humanly possible. And they did it that easily. Without leaving a trace. It just proves if you have enough money you can get away with anything, if you have power too—you’re a god.
A familiar fear crawls up my throat and lodges itself there. What happens when the Dean’s List decides someone else doesn’t belong anymore? What if it decides to make up a white lie? What then? Who the hell is in control of it?
What happens if that someone is me? Is that the real reason Jude’s back? He said he was owed retribution. Maybe his way of doing that is ruining my life. It would be so easy, a man with that much power, that much revenge in his blood.
I hurry toward class, keeping my head down.
People are quieter today. Even professors look tense when I pass them in the hall. One of them manually checks IDs before letting students into lecture like we suddenly attend prison instead of college. What the hell? Like we would go to class this early on purpose if we didn’t have to?
By the time I make it to the studio building, my nerves are completely shot to hell. I freeze when I see a piece of paper sitting on my desk, in my assigned seat—my only assigned seat I’ve been given in college.
At least the piece of paper isn’t red?
It has no name on it. No markings at all. It’s just sitting there taunting me. My hands start to shake at my sides. I don’t reach for it right away.
To touch or not to touch.
“….I love your handwriting.” I whispered to Jude. “It’s so composed and handsome, can handwriting be handsome?” I tapped my pen on his notepad and leaned in. He smelled so good, I finally relaxed against his chest.
“It’s not the handwriting, it’s the intention behind the note itself.” He whispered. “It means, I’m thinking of you so much I can’t help but put it into words that are forever. Once a compliment is given out loud all you have is the memory of the moment. When you give a compliment on a piece of paper, you can read it over and over again. The intention is forever. My intention is that you don’t forget the words I write.”
I opened the note and gasped. “You’re prettier with your hair up.” I smack him. “Remind me how that’s a compliment?”
“Prettier,” He says. “You’re always pretty. I just like to see your face. I hate when it’s hidden because then I can’t see your eyes very well and your eyes are…” He points to the rest of the note. “Your eyes are my downfall.”