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I stare at it for too long, turning it over and over in my clammy palm. And just when I grit my teeth, deciding against taking it, another cold sweat washes over me, nearly making me fall to my knees. I toss it back, swallowing it down dry, and I breathe out long and slow.
“Poppy?” Bennett’s voice is low, like he knows, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, squeezing my eyes tighter.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, a sob jumping in my chest.
I hear Raiden swear, and Bennett sigh, his engine revving harder, and I hate myself all over again. I swallow, the back of my tongue bitter, my throat burning, but it feels like all of my other symptoms dissolve, just like that, with the knowledge that that little white pill is going to fix me soon.
“Poppy, wait for me, we’re-fuck,we won’t be long. Can you go to Flynn’s office instead? Go there first and just go in and get him.”
“I’m so far away from there now,” I whisper, cursing myself for not being smarter, but I felt so shitty, I didn’t think about anything except my overwhelming panic.
I drag my papers and books back towards me, stuffing them inside my canvas bag, my pens, snapped pencil.
“Poppy, what did you just take?” that’s King’s voice and I stall in my shuffling of items, my fingers trembling. “I’m not upset, I just want to know, okay?”
Their silence in the car, the engine loud, my own ears rushing with my pulse as it picks up.
“Ecstasy,” I say it blankly, factually.
I don’t want to feel emotional right now and I’m already feeling lighter, not because the pill’s started working, just because I know it will soon.
And it feels like relief.
Shouldering my bag, I stand, continue up the stairs, push through the door. Walk down the corridor towards the office.
“I’m here now,” I tell them, swallowing.
“It’ll be fine,” Bennett says, “if they bring that little fucker up, you know nothing, and you wait for me. You fucking wait, okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the wide wooden door, gulping down air, my mouth so dry, my voice cracks. “Okay, bye.”
I pocket the phone, draw in a deep breath and enter the office.
Chapter 46
HENDRIX
Ismoke too much. I know that anyway, but fuck me, my lungs feel like they’re on fire.
I ran from my class to Poppy’s to grab her laptop, then I raced all the way to Flynn’s fucking office, where he wasn’t. Then sprinted here, to the administrative building, and I can already hear the dean shouting before I’m even halfway up the stairs.
I’m wheezing as I get to the final step, bracing my hand on the railing and bowing my head, breathing in deep through my nose, I shove my hand through my hair, trying hard not to cough up a lung.
Fuck, I need a cigarette.
“If you don’t release your fingers from her arm, right now,” Flynn seethes, his voice deadly as I rush through the door, “I will cut yourfuckinghand off.”
The dean’s secretary is standing behind her desk, ear to the phone, fingers to her mouth, Flynn’s huge back to the open door of Dean Groveton’s office. I grab the phone off of her as I pass, wrap the cord around my fingers and wrench it from the wall.
“Sorry,” I whisper as she gapes at me in horror, planting my hands on her desk, I lean over it towards her. “Sit down, and shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” She falls backinto her chair, a whimper escaping her throat. “I’ll deescalate the situation, okay? No one needs to call for security.” She nods frantically, and it’s almost comical, the way it bounces on her shoulders.
I stalk towards Flynn, clearing my throat as I slink in beside him. And in true Flynn fashion, he doesn’t look at me, keeping his hand wrapped around the handle of his blade.
“Put the knife away or you are fired, Mr. Marshall!” Dean Groveton is bellowing, spittle flying from his mouth.
He’s leaning over his mahogany desk, suit straining over his carved chest, his chestnut hair combed back, deep green eyes glaring at Flynn.
Poppy’s standing on the wrong side of the desk in the far corner, and there are too many other people in this room. Three men, all white clothes, scrubs, I realize, stationed around the walls. One of them is gripping Poppy’s bicep, his fingers digging in where he holds her too tightly. She’s shaking in his hold, her lilac eyes locked on Flynn.
