Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
But it didn’t matter, because it hadn’t happened.
She was away.
I would do everything possible to keep her away, too.
But I wasn’t going to let her take away my joy of being a college student.
I would live in my dorm. I would sleep in my bed. I would be with my boyfriend, and not constantly look over my shoulder. I would walk on this damn campus and my fear would not rule me. It would not dictate what I wanted to do, and if I goddamn wanted to walk to the library at eight-thirty at night, I goddamn would.
I cut through the food court building and where the post office boxes were. I was just leaving that, with the library being the next building, when I heard the two beeps signifying someone was just locking their car.
There was a parking lot tucked in the corner between the two buildings. It was there for workers, and some students got special permits to park there, too. Mainly off-campus students who wanted the closest parking lot to the library. I knew Shay had a permit there, and I was already turning my head to see if his Jeep was there.
That was when I saw him, and a bolt of panic jolted me.
I stopped in my tracks, my little pep talk and the short-term benefits I’d felt shriveled up. They fell at my feet. I could almost imagine them there, and I could kick them away because that’s how I felt.
My knees locked.
It was Cameron.
He was walking toward me, his head down. His broad shoulders were slouched down, but they were tense. He had on a button-down shirt, the ends pulled out from his khaki pants. His hair was mussed, as if he’d come from a long day at the office or an event.
I couldn’t move.
Someone was screaming at me to move in the back of my mind, but she wasn’t loud enough for my body to take action.
The fear was back. It was pooling in the bottom of my gut.
I was an unwilling participant to watching this train wreck happen. I was even watching myself, and in slow motion, his head came up. There were bags under his eyes. He held keys in his hands, and he threw them up, his hand absent-mindedly snatching out of the air before tossing them again.
His eyes were straight ahead. They weren’t focused on anyone or anything, but then he caught me in the corner of his eye.
He paused, slowing down, and his head turned.
His eyes locked on mine, and I saw his emotions play out as if they were on screen.
Surprise.
Confusion.
Then anger.
The last one burned bright in his gaze, and he faltered to a stop.
We were seven feet apart. If I had hidden in the doorway, he would’ve gone straight past me. This confrontation could’ve been avoided, but I still couldn’t do a thing. I tried to get myself to talk.
My throat wasn’t working.
He stared at me, his jaw clenching. His eyes narrowed. I watched as his shoulders straightened and then rolled back. He looked ready to fight me.
But he still didn’t talk for a second.
I had just walked past three buildings that had people in front of them, hanging out for the evening, but I was in the heart of the campus, and there was no one.
I half-expected a tumbleweed to roll between us.
“Seriously?” He grunted, stuffing his hands in his khaki pockets. His shoulders lowered a fraction. “You’re just going to stand there like a deaf mute?”
I flushed.
For whatever reason, that worked.
I could suddenly talk again.
“You don’t have to insult the deaf mute.”
He snorted. More of the fight left him, but the anger was still there. I felt it under the surface, simmering. My insides were still in knots, waiting for it to be unleashed.
“I don’t know what that means.” His eyes flicked to the side before jerking back. “What’s your problem?” He looked at me closer, trailing down then back up. “What? Are you scared of me?”
Okay, Kennedy.
I started to give myself another pep talk. This one was going to be for the win. I needed it.
He isn’t going to strike you down. He isn’t his sister. He isn’t Carruthers or his dickless friend. He isn’t the assholes who chased after you, or jeered you in the classroom. He isn’t here to scare you, to harm you, to break you.
Because. You. Won’t. Let. Him.
You got that, Kennedy?
You got that?
I was shaking my hands in triumph. I was cheering myself on. I was making all sorts of rallying cries inside my own head.
Because the truth was that I was too damned scared to say anything more.
He cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong with you? You had more fight the last I saw you.”
A gargled laugh ripped from me.
“Really?” I laughed again. “I had more fight the last time you saw me?”