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Grant gotme to work right on time.
I’m not sure if I should be thankful or still annoyed. I wouldn’t have been late at all if neither Trip nor Grant had shown up in the first place. In the end, I decide to be annoyed because as I sit there typing away, creating a new flyer for the science department’s upcoming Biometric Extravaganza event, I find myself painfully horny and my ass hurts like none other.
When even Jonathan’s ramblings can’t tune out the ache between my legs, I attempt to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Except, every time I try, a student stops me on the way, or I’m needed by a professor in search of something. I don’t get a break until around lunch, and even then, I’m behind on the flyer due to the many interruptions. As I walk back to the break room, I wonder if it’s too late to try to find a dollar and fish something out of the vending machines.
“Miss Wilson!”
My name echoes around me as the caller shouts for my attention. I turn in surprise, yanking a smile into place. A young woman wearing a TaxiFoods polo shirt holds out a bag for me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell in the library,” she flushes. “The guy at the desk said if I hurried, I’d catch you. This is for you.” She hands me the bag.
I don’t take it. “I didn’t order any food. You must have the wrong person.”
The driver shakes her head, “The label says it’s for Briella Wilson, in the library, second floor, information desk. The directions were specific.”
Oh. Not sure what else to do or say, I take the brown paper bag from her hands. I don’t even have to wonder who would have sent this. There are only two people who knew I didn’t have lunch today. This feels out of character for either one, but it’s oddly sweet.
“I, um, wasn’t expecting food. I don’t have any cash to tip you.”
The young woman smiles. “That’s alright, it’s been taken care of. Have a good day.”
She turns without another word and leaves me with my lunch. I watch until she’s gone before I turn and head to the staff room. There, I open up the bag to find the biggest, cheesiest hamburger I’ve ever seen, topped with lettuce, onions, pickles, and ketchup. Beside it are a sleeve of thin fries and… I pull out the saran-wrapped item. It’s a fudge brownie.
Ilovefudge brownies.
Sitting down at the table, I pull out all the items and stare down at them in surprise. It certainly isn’t tamales, but I’ll be damned if I still won’t put this down faster than anything I’ve eaten in a long time. Before I do, I pull my phone out and send a quick text to the group thread:
Me: thx for lunch.
Pianna’s mother was always a stickler about manners, ingraining them into both her daughter and me since I can remember. These guys might be assholes, but they did something considerate. The least I can do is be appreciative. My phone vibrates:
Trip: It won’t taste as good as me, but it should hold you over.
A second later another message comes in:
Grant: Get an attitude with me again and the only thing you’ll be eating will be my cum for the next week.
And just like that, my appreciation disappears.
* * *
That evening,as I step out of the library, I accept the fact that I’m going to have to order a driver to come pick me up. Since the school’s bus system doesn’t travel that far, and with my car back at my place, I have no other way home. Just as I begin to access the app though, my phone vibrates.
Jason: Waiting for you where you normally park.
Is there any point wondering how Trip and now Jason know where I leave my car, or getting frustrated that they’re so hellbent on controlling me? Probably not.
For the duration of the walk to the vacant lot, I catch myself continuously looking over my shoulder. I probably look suspicious as hell, but I’m not getting into Jason’s car if I even have an inkling that I’m being watched. By the time I get there, I’m a bundle of nerves. Waiting for me in the parking lot is an old greenish-blue truck that’s dinged up. Mud cakes the side of it and an unreadable, sun-bleached sticker clings desperately to the back windshield.
I wish I could say that the cause of my racing heart is solely due to getting caught climbing into the truck. But seeing Jason’s grin as I approach makes it hard to pretend it’s just nerves.
Before I can even reach for the handle, Jason gets out of the driver’s side, walks around the car, and opens the passenger door for me. His warm grin sends butterflies scattering in my stomach. I duck my face down so he can’t see the way my cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I slide into my seat.
“Of course, dollie.” Jason slams the door shut and walks around the car to get back in on his side.
Rolling my eyes, I lean back in my seat and look out the window. As Jason takes off, he asks, “How was your day?”
