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Most people wouldn’t help.
But Killian did.
Thinking about him brings a smile to my face and momentarily distracts me from the chaos of Monday morning. I did not study enough for this class—which was especially stupid since I have a test on Wednesday—and I skipped my brush-up review that I usually do over breakfast.
Killian brought me to school today, and he stopped on the way to get us breakfast and coffee. The only studying that happened was me studying the way his mouth looked when he took a sip of that coffee.
Boys are distracting.
When I finally make it to class, I settle in and get my books and notes ready, then, since I have a little time to spare, I decide to check on my iPhone. I brought my iPad with me in case I needed it for class, plus I usually head to the library to study after class since I live in a shared apartment with thin walls on a noisy street. They’re very strict in the Woodworth Library about being quiet, so it’s a nice place to study.
But Killian has a class after mine, so we won’t be leaving school at the same time, and given everything that has been going on, I feel more comfortable going to his place than sitting in a crowded library. Especially as paranoid as I felt just walking to class, there’s no way I would be able to concentrate with people coming in and out of the library.
It’s a matter of habit to check for my phone at this point. I don’t expect to see a change, so when the app loads and my phone is located, my heart stalls.
It has moved.
Now my phone is on campus.
Wide-eyed, I drop the iPad and grab my burner phone. I take a picture of the screen and send it to Killian.
“Whoever has my phone is on campus right now!”
Should I ping it? It would make a godawful noise and draw attention, but what if he’s not in class yet?
Hmm.
I check the time and decide to wait.
If I’m going to press that button, I want to make sure the bastard is embarrassed. I want him flustered. I want every student in class staring at him, his instructor’s annoyance trained on him. I want to disrupt his class and make him flee until the sound stops.
And then I might just press it again.
My sense of restraint warns me that might be a good way to get my phone thrown in the trash, so maybe I won’t keep pressing the button, but I’m going to do it once. Let him know I know where he is, too.
The mere idea makes me feel a sense of control over my life I haven’t felt since I stepped foot in that basement. I feel calmer even though he doesn’t text me back. Maybe his class has already started.
Mine starts a moment later, but it’s hard to focus on what my professor is saying when all I can think about is pressing that button. I don’t want to do it too soon just in case the Rho Kappa’s instructor isn’t as prompt. I know I won’t actually see his reaction unless he’s in this class—which I consider unlikely—but even if I’m just imagining it, I want to make sure I pick the right time.
I wait until 10:34, then I can’t wait any longer. I press the button.
A grin claims my face and doesn’t leave for a while. I keep an eye on the time, knowing the sound won’t stop for two whole minutes.
I smile until 10:36, and the smile comes back on and off all through class when the thought of it passes through my mind.
I feel a lot better when I’m leaving class. I press the button again right before I leave the building, just in case we’ll be walking through the same courtyard. Let that annoying, loud-ass noise be an alarm that danger is coming so I don’t have to keep such careful watch.
Since Killian and I are leaving at different times today and I don’t have my car, he told me to wait by the coffee cart in the courtyard for his friend Ryan and he’d give me a ride home. That area is very visible, so I feel safe.
There’s a table I can sit at while I wait, but since this Ryan guy is doing me a favor, I decide to buy him a coffee. I open my phone to text Killian and ask if he knows what he would want, only to realize I never checked my messages again after I messaged him about my phone.
We were on the same page, though. He wrote back, “Wait until class has started and then ping it.”
I grin down at my phone, remembering those glorious two minutes. “I did. Pinged it again when I was leaving the building so I’d know if he’s close.”
“Good girl.”
His reply is casual and off-handed, but it does something to my stomach. Biting my bottom lip, I type back, “Any chance you know Ryan’s coffee order? I thought I’d grab him one to say thank you.”
