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Jason: *eggplant emoji* *splash emoji* *married couple emoji*
Marriage? To Jason Nani? A small part of me does a happy dance. The rest of me is ashamed at the excitement the thought brings. Jason’sblackmailingme, and he’s a student. Where is my self-preservation and pride?
Trip: Tell me you saved me some?
Jason: Nope.
Grant: Dollface doesn’t respond to a marriage proposal from her crush?
Grant: Interesting.
I glare at the screen. Of course Grant would point that out. Good, I hope they take that as me not being interested in such a ridiculous notion. An image of me in a white dress walking down an aisle flashes through my head.
NO! Stop it, Briella!
Trip: Hey, doll, if you don’t start responding, we’ll take drastic measures so that you will.
Drastic measures? I glance at the time stamp of that message. Noon? My busiest time of day? How self-centered are they to believe I have time to deal with this harassment? I clench my jaw together as anger flares to life in my chest. The heat of it, however, cools instantly as I read the next text.
Jason: We’ll come to the library if you don’t respond soon.
Trip: Hunt you down on the second floor.
Trip: And make you wish you were never born.
I stare at the messages, my heart sinking further and further until it’s in my stomach. Then it drops between my legs, where it pulsates.What the hell?I press my thighs together before shoving my phone back into my pocket. The messages continue up until five o’clock this evening, but I’m done. I don’t need to read the not-so-veiled threats.
If they were going to follow through with them this evening, they would’ve been here by now. Most of the time I’m off by six, and I’m sure they know that. Maybe they got busy?
Yeah. That’s totally what happened.
There’s no way that they’d show up this late. They don’t even have a reason to come here given that they don’t know that I took over someone else’s shift. But just because they didn’t show up doesn’t mean I’m out of a punishment. Maybe I should text them to just let them know I wasn’t ignoring—
No. No, I’m not going to cave and give them the satisfaction of receiving a panicked text. I’m an adult that doesn’t need to check in with them. My phone slides back into my pocket and my fingers slam down on my keyboard. Determined to keep from spiraling into a panic, I throw myself back into work and start getting ahead on tomorrow’s activities.
Nineteen
10:45 rolls around and it’s then that I relent from furiously typing away.
My eyes are sore from staring at the screen for so long. I need glasses. At least reading ones. Absentmindedly, I spin my desk chair left and right as I scan my work for any obvious typos. When I’m content that there aren’t any, I stand and move around the information desk to go relieve myself.
I take my time coming back from the bathroom, confident that with how empty the second floor is, there won’t be many people impatiently waiting for help from the single librarian on staff tonight. As I round Groveton’s bronze statue of the school’s Jackal mascot, a hand slides around my mouth and another grabs both of my wrists in one clever swoop. I’m yanked behind the statue, my body obscured from most of the cameras.
“Good evening, Miss Wilson. How are you this evening?” Trip’s voice whispers in my ear. His hand drops away from my mouth. “Did you have fun making me jealous today?”
Shit! When did he slip into the library? He must’ve come in through the back way. I’m sure I would have seen him otherwise.
“Jealous?” I whisper, looking left and right, hoping to god no one can see us like this.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Jay’s belly is full of your home cooking and mine is empty.” He tsks in disappointment. “I’m not a fan of how you have a favorite among us, dollface. What does he got that I don’t?”
The hand that was around my mouth returns, but this time to squeeze my right breast hard. He ignores my gasp.
“Is it his pretty face? Or maybe it’s his hair? I’ll give it to him, I couldn’t make my hair look that good even if I went to a salon,” Trip snorts in amusement. His hot breath hits my neck, causing bumps to raise and race down my back. I can feel the hard length of him pressing between my butt cheeks through our clothes. “Go upstairs, to our usual spot.”
“No, I can’t leave my post, Trip!”
“You’re already gone,” he points out. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
