Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“What?” Ace pushes, standing out of the way but not stepping back by any means. “What do you mean, take him into custody? Are you arresting him?”
“Dane claims Finn assaulted him at a party at the Delta Omega house last night, and an eyewitness substantiated his claim.”
“Who’s his witness?” Ace asks, crowding the door as the cops pull me outside.
“Nadine Jones,” Officer Marks says, affirming what we both already knew. It’s textbook.
“Fucking rich!” Ace exclaims loudly. “Did those assholes bother to tell you what they did?”
“Sir, you’re going to need to calm down,” Officer Marks tells Ace as they pull me away from the door, but Ace isn’t having any of it.
“Don’t say a fucking thing, Finn. Don’t answer any questions.” He’s already on the phone I didn’t know he had in his hand. He obviously grabbed it before coming to stand beside me. “Dad,” he says into the receiver. “Finn’s getting arrested.”
I comply as they guide me down the hall but stop halfway to ask a question. “Can I just check my phone real quick?”
Office Marks nods. “You have one minute.”
Ace is still on a call with his dad, giving him the rundown of what happened last night at a mile-a-minute pace, but when I walk back toward him, my hands behind my back in cuffs still, he jumps into action.
“What do you need?”
I nod toward my bed, where my phone is plugged into the charger. “I just want to check my messages.”
Ace holds up my phone in front of me to activate Face ID and then clicks open my message icon for me to scour it. The message I sent Scottie just before falling asleep is there, but so far, unanswered.
“You can bring your phone with you, if you want,” Officer Marks says, but Ace is quick to negate that idea.
“Leave your phone here, man. I’ll bring it up to you with bail money if I have to.” He looks at the cops as Office Walters takes me back out the door, the phone call with his dad still to his ear through it all. “Where are you taking him?”
“Since this occurred on campus, we’ve been instructed to bring him to the campus station, and Dean Kandinsky is meeting us there.”
“So, you’re not taking him straight to County?”
“Not yet. No.” Officer Marks shakes his head. “The dean feels strongly that he wants to have a conversation with all parties involved before we proceed further.”
“Finn, do you want me to call anyone for you?” Ace asks, and I shake my head.
I don’t want him calling anyone. “Keep this to yourself for now.”
“Don’t worry, Finn,” Ace agrees as both officers lead me down the hall once again. “I got your back, man.”
I know he does.
For the first time in my life, I know I have people I can count on.
Scottie
I wake up with a start to the bright overhead lights of my room, still blaring from last night when I finally cried myself to sleep. My face aches, my head pounds, and my eyes are a crusty mess of dried, salty tears.
There’s no question that what happened really happened and that it wasn’t a dream as I sit up slowly, last night’s clothes and shoes pulling at my tender skin.
I glance at the clock above my door since my phone is still halfway across the room on the floor where I tossed it last night when the social media notifications reached an unrelenting buzz. For all I know, it’s broken beyond repair. It’s only six a.m., but it feels like I’ve been asleep for both a lifetime and no time at all.
I crawl off my bed slowly, my stomach pitching with upset. I threw up twice last night, and the lining feels nearly as raw as my emotions. My reflection in the mirror on the back of my door is horrifying—messy hair, red and splotchy skin, and mascara caked beneath my sad eyes.
I’m a mess. But who wouldn’t be?
I grab a bottle of water from my mini fridge and nearly guzzle down the entire thing. My bladder screams for me to go to the bathroom and pee, so I stumble into my half bath and relieve myself.
I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and push myself back into my room, my entire body crying out for the scalding water of a shower.
I need to wash it all away, but the thought of leaving my room is beyond terrifying.
What if I run into someone who was at the party? Or someone who saw all the gory details on social media?
I have no concept of how far it’s all spread, but I know how these things work. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet knows, not to mention everyone at Dickson University.
I know I shouldn’t look at my phone—that it’s the worst of worst ideas—but I can’t stop myself from walking across the room and picking it up. The screen is littered with notifications. Missed calls and texts. Mentions on Instagram and TikTok. Snaps on Snapchat.