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“Any man willing to take the rap for murder would have gladly run away with her. But nope, Daisy didn’t want to just have her cake and eat it too, she wanted the bloody pastry chef as well!” she said, with a huff.
She was all worked up now, and she hopped onto her knees, waving the book in front of me.
“And the absolute worst part of it all is the fact that she didn't even have the decency to go to his funeral. She just ran away to live her perfect little life with her husband. She is a horrible, terrible human being, and I wish she would have gotten run over by a yellow buggy!”
I laughed. The look on her face, the passion and rage pouring out her, it was too funny.
“Damn it! Why’d you bring up this book? Now I look crazy,” she groaned, hiding her face under the sheets.
Instead of remedying the situation, it only made me laugh more.
“Stop laughing at me! It’s not my fault. Us English Lit majors tend to be a little weird about books, okay?”
“Thea,” I said, trying my best to stop laughing as I reached for her.
But she turned away. Wrapping my arm around her, I held her through the sheets.
“I’m not laughing because I think you’re weird… though you are for the record, but just a little bit.” She smacked me before I could continue. “I’m laughing because you’re amazing, and I couldn’t help but wonder if you can get this passionate over a fictional story how you must you be with real people. You have a big heart, I can tell by the way you love your books.”
She uncovered herself trying not to smile. “Nice save.”
“I try,” I said. “Now, read to me.”
I handed the book back to her.
Once again, she wrapped herself around me, placing her head on my chest, and started from her least favorite, favorite part.
There were only two days left…
I don’t think I can let her go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
P R E S E N T
THEA
Thea May Cunning
Age: 23
Height: 5’9 ½
Race: African American
Undergraduates: Princeton
Family:
Mother: Margaret “The Shark” Cunning.
Sister: High School student
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, as I walked into class and saw my information written on the board. I could tell by the handwriting that this was Levi’s doing.
I’m going to kill him the moment he walks through the doors. I promised myself.
“He can’t do this, that’s my personal information,” I protested.
