Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
“Of course. Go to sleep. I’m gonna do that, too.”
“Good. Don’t forget to set your alarm if you need to.”
“Oh. I’m glad you said that,” I murmur, looking around. “Did I even bring my phone?”
“It’s on your desk. If you need to borrow a charger, there’s a purple lightning cord in the top right drawer of my desk.”
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem at all. G’night, Brynn.”
“Good night.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Brynn
Sleep is impossible.
I toss and turn on the twin bed, fighting memories and heartache and acting as if the perfect position in bed will make them go away.
If there is a magic position that does that, I don’t find it.
I give up trying to sleep when I hear Addison get up, but I close my eyes because I’m not ready to talk, either.
If I just lay here and don’t disturb anything, I don’t have to feel anything. I don’t have to relive waking up to the sound of voices raised in the other room. I was afraid at first, but the light was on. A burglar or vengeful Rho Kappa would probably work in the dark, right?
I took my phone off charge and climbed out of bed, checking around the room for I wasn’t even sure what.
And I found Killian’s phone face-down on the floor by the wall. That was weird, so I picked it up.
As soon as the screen lit up, I saw texts from two different numbers, both of them saying they were Sloane. Then I saw a call from the number he must have had saved for her in his phone, and it was so confusing because why would Killian have Sloane Whitley’s phone number saved in the first place?
Then I moved closer to the door, and I found out why.
My heart squeezes painfully, and I reprimand myself for thinking about it.
We’re not supposed to do that.
I roll on my side to face the wall, and when I do, I get a whiff of Killian’s scent off his T-shirt that I threw on.
Ugh. Ouch.
Why would he do this to me? Why would he even start something when he knew we had an expiration date? Why wouldn’t he at least tell me so I had a choice in the matter?
Everything hurts and I want to die.
I sigh heavily, squeezing my eyes shut and willing myself to sleep. Just for a little bit, just so I don’t have to be awake.
I think I finally manage to drift off because the next thing I know, my alarm is going off.
I’m relieved at first because it means I have something to do. School should serve as an adequate distraction, especially since it’s Tuesday, my busiest day of the week.
But getting up and getting ready also requires energy and I have very little of that.
I don’t shower because each room doesn’t have its own, there’s just a communal one everyone shares. I tell myself that’s the entire reason, I just don’t want to deal with a communal shower situation, but I think the disgusting truth might be that I can still smell Killian on my skin, feel traces of him between my thighs, and I’m not ready to wash them off just yet. I’m not ready to be clean.
I brush my teeth, but I can’t brush my hair since it’s naturally curly and I didn’t shower. If I brush my hair when it’s not wet, it will be a frizzy disaster. I pull my hair back in a tired braid instead, and I don’t bother putting on makeup. If I look how I feel, so what?
I pull on loose-fitting sweats and a shapeless gray T-shirt I’ve had since high school, then I go through my school bag to make sure I have everything I need for my classes today.
Addison comes back in, dressed much cuter than I am and with what appears to be a bottle of juice in her hand.
“Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “I brought you a smoothie.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I say, reaching for the bottle and examining the label.
“It’s delish. They have a bunch of them in the drink cooler downstairs, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be around people.”
“I definitely do not. Thank you.”
“When you’re ready to go, we can also sneak out the back way if you want to.”
I stand, sliding my bag over my shoulder. “I’m ready.”
“Oh. Okay,” she says brightly. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
Since Addison takes us the back way, we manage to get out of the house without encountering any of the other girls. I’m immensely grateful, and if I ever have enough money to live again in the foreseeable future, I’m going to buy her a thank you gift.
We don’t talk about what happened on the way to school, probably because she realizes talking about that right before sending me to my classes isn’t the best way to make sure I learn anything, but even without getting into it, my concentration is shot.