Jessie Kensington thought she had escaped her troubled past when she faked her death and started a new life as Violet Arrowood. But three years later, she finds herself at Vanguard University on a scholarship, trying to build the future she always d...
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In the past twenty-four hours since Blue left—well, since I basically kicked her out of my damn house—I've established three things.
First, I am starving. Seriously, I've been eating non stop since yesterday.
Second, I can't stop thinking about Blue—about how I spoke to her, what she told me, and I found myself obsessing over every little thing she said. I even considered asking my dad how someone might get out of a "faking your death" situation for an assignment. But that would be stupid, because it would just raise suspicions and possibly put Blue in danger.
And third? I'm a colossal asshole. Okay, maybe I've known that for a while, but it's reached new heights of asshole-ishness.
But I'm going to rectify at least one of these things today—assuming I don't wuss out on my way there. I park my car in front of the girls' dorms. So far, so good— my balls are still intact. I head towards the double doors. Balls are still there, check. I am walking through the girls' corridors. Excellent. I am turning down the hall and around the corner. Amazing work, bro. I am opening the door. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.
Opening the door... to Clara's room— not cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Not exactly where I was planning to end up, but hey maybe I'll get lucky.
I walk in, and Clara is on her bed, sketching away in her book. I take a quick look around before tossing myself onto her bed, deliberately ignoring the death glare she's shooting me as I thoroughly invade her privacy. WHY MUST THIS BE SO HARD?
"Yeah, sure... come on in. Make yourself at home," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I groan and reach behind me to figure out what's digging into my back. Fuck, I'm exhausted. Oh, hairspray— was worried about what I just grabbed there for a second..
"Pretty sure you have a bed—actually, two beds. One at your mansion of a house and one in your dorm, just in case you've forgotten. If you need a nap, I advise you to choose one of them."
"Want to grab a drink? Also, you really should lock your door."
"First of all, I didn't think anyone would be obnoxious or self-entitled enough to barge into someone else's room. But then again, I should have expected that from you. Secondly, I'm so pissed at you right now that your face is making me want to throw this book at you. Thirdly, it's Sunday."
"Uh... and your point is?"
"You know Sundays are my design days. I have a mountain of work to do."
"Oh yeah," I say like I forgot—though I didn't forget at all.
She shifts over and lies next to me. "You want to tell me what you're really here for?"
"I'm bored."
"You don't get bored. You get restless because there's something you need to do but are too stubborn or stupid to do it. Besides, where are the boys?"
