Outcast (Wiltshire University Book 1)

Chapter 13

Once Finn and Braxton were seated everyone dug in, conversation momentarily dying out as we stuffed our faces with omelety goodness. It only took a couple of mouthwatering bites to realize omelets California style meant ham, avocado, spinach, and cheese with a side of the honeydew, strawberries, and pineapple Tanner cut up. It was all delicious. I wasn't sure if I was starving or if this fruit was some of the most flavorful I'd ever tasted, but either way, I was making a pig of myself, wolfing everything down.

"Mmmmm, this is amazing," I groaned, swallowing another bite of omelet, the sharpness of the cheese complimenting the salt of the ham and the creamy avocado; no wonder Finn was so excited for these. "Thanks so much for going to all the trouble."

"Keep making sounds like that, and a'll make ye all the omelettes and coffee ye want," Braxton said in a slightly huskier tone, catching my eye and winking as he spoke. My fork clattered out of my hand and down to the table, my jaw dropping open as Tanner and Finn simultaneously started pelting Braxton with fruit. The projectiles, hitting their mark, left sticky blotches on Braxton's shirt.

"Okay, Okay!" Braxton called from behind raised arms trying to fend off the continuing assault. Tanner threw one last piece, which Braxton caught, winking at me once more as he popped it into his mouth. Ignoring the pieces that littered the table and floor, Braxton settled back into his breakfast as if the whole thing never happened.

Recovering my fork, I cut another bite of the omelet being as discrete as possible as I ate. It wasn't like Braxton was actually flirting with me; he obviously had one of those overly flirtatious personalities and directed it at whatever female was in the room, I just happened to be the only one in the room. Still, I didn't need to do anything to encourage him; I didn't want to end up on Bree's bad side.

"Anyways," Finn said, drawing out the word as he broke the awkward silence, well at least I felt awkward, "do you want to tell us how your phone and computer came to be so waterlogged?"

"Aye," Braxton motioned with his fork towards the front entryway, "the hall seems ta be occupied by some equally soggy contents. What happened love?"

I stared down at my plate, focusing on spearing a pineapple wedge. Telling Tanner bits and pieces of the story last night as the need arose was one thing, putting all the sordid and mortifying details out there on the table was completely different. How do you tell people you've just met, who clearly have this whole college thing figured out, that you've somehow committed some faux pas so atrocious as to ostracize yourself from the entire study body? And, not only have you ostracized yourself, but whatever you've done was so bad that said student body wanted you gone and was willing to move you out of the dorms to make that point clear.

After a night to sleep on it, I had all but given up on clinging to the idea of being misidentified. Between the voicemail, the note, and getting into my room and moving all of my stuff out, that was all way too specific for this to be a case of mistaken identity. I must have broken some code without realizing it. Sighing I focused on the bits of food remaining on my plate; there was no way I could look them in the eye while giving them the answers they wanted to hear. I wasn't sure what would be worse, seeing pity in their eyes once they realized how pathetic I was, or the look of disgust when they realize they invited the girl that everyone hates into their house.

Taking a deep breath, I drove right in. "I came back from classes yesterday to find everything from my dorm room missing, and I mean everything. The room was stripped completely bare. Only the furniture and fixtures that came with the room were left. I couldn't find my R.A., and I didn't have any sort of notification from the school about a room change, or caution building condemned for black plague, but there was a creepy voicemail on the landline in my room." I heard one of the guys shift. I paused, taking a bite of my omelet before continuing, my eyes never leaving my plate. Swallowing the lukewarm egg, I repeated the voicemail for them word for word, knowing it lost some of its underlying creepy factor without the robotic voice. "So right after I listened to the voicemail someone slid a note under my door that said my stuff was taken and spread amongst all of the hookup spots on grounds and that everyone was told to stay away from me."