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I snap back to real life when I realize that Wren has been waiting a long time. I used to make her wait. But not now. Friendships are something I’ve learned not to take for granted. I slide my finger across the screen to read the following message, and the shock causes my phone to slip out of my hands. I catch it before it can hit the tile floor. I don’t have money to repair a cracked screen.
From nothing to Ivymore. You’re living the dream, $ugar Doll. When are you going to make my dream come true?
Chapter 27
Charlotte
“Charlotte?” Wren walks into the bathroom, calling my name. “Did you flush yourself down the drain?”
I jump like an invisible thread is attached to my trembling shoulders. “No, I’m coming out.” I flush as if I were on the toilet and hurry out of the stall.
Wren smirks when she sees my phone in my hand. “It’s a bad habit,” she says. “I prefer to read mine in bed.”
I grimace while washing my hands and watch her in the mirror as she steps into a stall. She has the bio reference book in her hands.
“Some girl wants the reference book,” she says from behind the shut door, “but I told her she’d have to check it out first. I’m not letting her take the book while I have it checked out. I’m not paying a fine when she doesn’t return it. We should probably just buy a copy.”
“Yeah, but then what do we do with it later?” I ask. “Besides, I like coming to the library. I get more studying done here.”
Wren comes out and washes her hands. “Let’s go back, so we can finish up. I want to go to the cafeteria and get a muffin for breakfast in the morning, so I can eat it in class.”
We sit back down at the table, but I can’t focus. My spinning mind is agitated over that text. It was sent to my personal number, so it has to be Hudson or Asher. I know Asher has my number, and Hudson could have gotten it from him. I push my chair all the way back to the wall, so no one can look over my shoulder.
I reinstall my app and check the number. Scrolling through my users, I find the 869 exchange, and it won’t give me any more info. A search reveals that 869 is a match for Boulder, Colorado. That’s weird—someone from Colorado is sending these messages? Whoever it is, they’ve been a subscriber since my first post.
I put my phone away and scan the people in the room. How many people from Colorado attend this school? My gaze locks on a guy who’s staring off into space and not at his tablet. He looks startled when he senses my stare, and I must be giving him a look of fury. Anyone at this school could have that number, and worse, they know who I am.
“Charlotte, let’s go to the cafeteria.” Wren motions at a girl, and she comes over to the table. “Come with me so you can check it out,” she tells her.
“Thanks.” The somber girl looks familiar, so she’s probably in my class. She is slim with red and black dyed hair and is dressed in plaid flannel and distressed denim. The girl stares at me intently. It could be anybody, even her.
“Are you okay?” she asks, arching her tweezed brow.
Wren looks at me, and her eyes narrow with concern. “You look pale, Charlotte. Is everything okay?”
I nod, collecting my stuff. “Sure, I was just thinking about my father.”
Wren doesn’t make excuses to a stranger for my behavior. Instead, she ignores the remarkably patient girl. “When’s the last time you ate?” She glares at me.
I pause, trying to remember.
“You should eat something,” says flannel girl, and then she speaks to Wren. “People either gain or they lose. She really needs to eat before she faints. By the way, my name is Raine.”
Raine decides not to take out the reference book. Instead, Wren returns it, and we all walk to the cafeteria. It only takes a few minutes for Wren to become sociable again and tell the girl all my business.
“No, my sister is not an MMA fighter,” I sigh. “Will you please stop telling people that?”
“Astrid does kick ass,” Wren assures the girl confidently, assuming that Raine must be interested, based on her flannel shirt. “She was a badass when she started at our school, punching boys, and still is from what I heard.”
“Doesn’t surprise me you have a sister that fights, considering you hang out with a biker,” quips Raine to me. Now, I recognize her from the library, and my nerves back away from the edge.
“Why do you think Asher is a biker?” I ask.
The girl frowns at me as if I’m clueless like a newborn. “You can see where he had the patch on his jacket. On the upper sleeve? I thought he might have been a prospect but then changed his mind. Very brave of him if he did. MCs don’t let go easily.”
“There was that man that visited Asher before Parents’ Weekend.” Wren offers more information on everyone she knows except herself. “A huge man with leather and chains. He definitely was a biker.”
I ignore them as Wren makes another friend to gossip with. We scan our IDs before entering the main dining room. The Baxter Dining Hall is the biggest cafeteria I’ve ever been in. The size rivals a small airport, with booths lining the walls and tables in the center of the vast room. Attempting to be modern, the cafeteria has weird multicolored neon lighting instead of conventional lighting overhead. The dated décor makes my nauseous stomach gurgle.
