Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I stay close until we emerge in a dark alley between a dorm and a sorority house.
“Are you okay?” Oliver asks.
“No, but I will be.” Just as soon as I figure out where I’m going and how I’m going to move out of Chuck’s with a ten-dollar balance in my checking account. “I appreciate you saying whatever you did to buy Nathan some time, but I think I’ve taken advantage of your kindness enough for one night.”
“It was nothing,” he says. He scans our surroundings. It’s quiet out here except for a few people smoking by the building’s back entrance. “It’s late, and I’m not going to just leave you in a dark alley alone. Where to?”
There’s no fucking way I’m going back to Chuck’s. I fumble in my purse for my phone. Maybe Julie will let me crash in her dorm room tonight.
I tap on her contact and wait as it rings. And rings. And rings.
“Hey, you’ve reached Julie! Leave a message or, better yet, text me!”
“Hey, Jules, this is Savvy. I’m in a pinch. Could you call me as soon as you get this?” I sigh and hang up. Shit.
“She’s probably in the shower or something,” I say, but in truth, I have no idea. “I’ll just go to her dorm and wait until she calls me back.”
“Aren’t the dorms locked after ten?”
I wince. This is not my night.
“Come on,” he says. “You can get cleaned up at my place while you wait for her to get back to you.”
“Are you sure?” I need to scrub off the stench of vomit and the tunnels. My adrenaline’s crashing, and the only thing that sounds better than a hot shower is a week of sleep. But part of me also hopes that one of Chuck’s friends sees me go home with Oliver. Or better yet, Chuck himself. Because fuck him.
“It’s just a shower, Savvy. It’s not a big deal.”
I follow him a few blocks to a building off-campus known for high-end lofts. “I thought only professors lived here,” I say as he uses his key to open the door to the lobby.
Oliver chuckles. “That’s not exactly true, but I wouldn’t mind if it were. The last thing I want when I leave campus at the end of the day is to be surrounded by a bunch of partying undergrads.”
I follow him into the elevator, where he slides his key card before pressing the button for the third floor. My limbs feel heavier with every step. How long can I stay awake waiting for Julie to get back to me?
A shower will wake me up.
When the doors slide open, Oliver leads the way out of the elevator and into a small vestibule with only one door. He unlocks it and leads me into an apartment. A huge apartment.
“Holy shit.”
He shrugs. “It’s a little over the top, but like I said, I wanted to get away from party zones.”
I knew these apartments were high-end, but I didn’t realize they were this big. The space has industrial-style décor, with exposed brick walls, wood ceiling beams, and wide-plank hardwood floors. The kitchen is to the left, with dark walnut cabinets, creamy white countertops, and a giant island with four stools. On the other side of the room, a sectional faces a stone fireplace with a TV mounted above it. The wall across from the entrance is made of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook downtown Crossport.
“How do you afford this place?” I blurt, cringing when I realize how invasive that question is.
Another shrug. “Asshole father is generous when it suits him. He wanted me to get an MBA, so he paid for this.”
I wander in, wide-eyed. “Damn. That’s a total different kind of asshole than mine.” Though in truth, my parents would love me to be in a place like this—but only if everyone could know about it. Their favorite way to spend money is ostentatiously.
Oliver chuckles and tosses his keys onto the island. “The bathroom’s right there.” He points over my shoulder. “Let me grab you a clean shirt.”
Before I can object, he disappears down the hall. When he reappears, he hands me a soft black T-shirt and gray sweatpants.
“They’ll probably be a little big, but at least they’re clean.”
Showering at his place, wearing his shirt . . . it all seems so intimate. Maybe that should scare me, but I’ve never felt as scared and alone as I did watching that fight tonight. I need a little tenderness. “Thanks.”
“Towels are in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Can I get you anything else? Maybe make you some food while you’re in the shower?”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
“How about I order a pizza?”
Trying to feed me again. Does he think I’m drunk? I guess I can’t blame him after Saturday and then the whole vomiting thing tonight. “I only had one glass of punch. I’m just . . .” Where to start? Disgusted by Chuck’s betrayal? Sick that my brother lost my savings? Worried that he’ll only dig himself deeper trying to pay those guys back?