I overslept the next day. I realized that the alarm on my phone didn’t sound off because I didn’t even have my phone with me. I tried looking for it in every corner of my room, but it wasn’t there. Finally, I decided to check my car.
To my surprise, the object of my disturbing dreams last night was standing by his car in front of my gate.
My heart pounded in my chest.
What the fuck?
I have never felt this nervous in my life before.
What the hell is wrong with me today?
“Good morning,” Nicholas greeted chirpily.
“What the heck are you doing here?” I asked, trying my best to look annoyed.
He shrugged and handed me a familiar purple object. It was my phone.
“You dropped it in my jeep,” he explained.
I snatched the phone from him.
“Whatever,” I murmured.
I quickly got in my car and sped to school without a word.
I could not remember what my dream was about. All I knew was that Nicholas Atkins had the starring role in it. Maybe it was a horror flick with a “Texas Chainsaw” theme where I spent the whole part chasing him with a chainsaw in my hands.
I didn’t pick up Jen today. I checked my phone, and apparently, she didn’t try to contact me during the days I disappeared. Maybe she really didn’t care.
Did anything I’ve done for her ever matter at all?
If she and my father didn’t care about me, was Brett the only person in the world who had the slightest affection for me?
I tried to keep busy the whole day. I aced my tests, as usual, although I didn’t study the whole weekend.
I stayed away from Jen. It was easy since we didn’t share any class at all, and I knew her schedule by heart.
I didn’t see or hear from Jen until Friday. I should give myself a trophy for enduring one whole week of being Jen-free. I hung out with Brett and his friends on days when I knew my father was in town, and there was a high probability of running into him.
On Friday night, while I was hanging out with Brett at Rhythemes, my phone rang. I thought it was Jen, but when I looked at the screen, the name of the caller read Your Hot Wingman. I stared at my screen for a long time, trying to figure out when I called anybody my wingman.
“Dude, who the hell is your hot wingman?” Brett asked when he looked over my shoulder to peek at my screen.
“We’re about to find out,” I replied before answering the phone. “Ken Clarke.”
“Do you always answer the phone at the last ring?” Nicholas’ familiar voice asked on the other line.
“Who the fuck gave you my number?” I asked in an annoyed tone.
I felt an unfamiliar knot in my stomach. I tried my best to tune him out the whole week, tried not to think about him or remember that day we spent together. I did my best not to remember the scent of his faint aftershave or the smell of Grandma’s homemade muffins. But when I put my guard down at night and fell into a deep sleep, I knew that somehow, he had visited me there. I could not remember the course my dreams took, but when I woke up in the morning, I would think about him.
“You. Or at least your phone did when I dialed my own number using your phone when you left it in my car.”
“Who told you to do that?”
“I didn’t want to. But since you didn’t put any password on your lock screen, I just couldn’t resist,” he replied, suppressing the urge to laugh.
“And you saved your number on my phone? What made you think I would ever call you?”
“Maybe you won’t. Maybe I did it to make it easier for you to dodge my calls. At least now, you don’t have to answer when you know it was me calling.”
“Good point. Thanks. I’ll do that for sure,” I said dryly. “Now, can I hang up?”
“In a while,” he replied coolly. “Now, remember that kid you made a bet with? John?”
“Yeah?”
“He was asking when you’ll come by. Remember, you told him he has to do whatever you asked for a week? I’ve never seen anybody so eager for his punishment.”
Even though I was in a foul mood, thinking about that kid actually made me smile. I remembered how his face lit up when I told him that I might teach him how to play drums.
“My finals are coming up. I’ll find the time when school is done.”
“I’ll tell him that,” he said. Then there was silence on the other line. I didn’t say anything, and it sounded as though Nicholas was trying to figure out what to say to me, too. Finally, I heard him take a deep breath and ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”
Seriously? Is he asking me out?
I opened my mouth to say something… anything! Hopefully, something rude, insulting, or derogatory. I wished my vocabulary of swear words were as broad as my father’s.
“I… ah… I’m not. But… I’m… sure I could ah… come up with something,” I managed to say. Not what I was hoping for, but good enough to tell him off, I guess.
He was quiet on the other line. Then finally, he said in a somber tone, “All right. In case you change your mind, we’re having a charity thing at Grandma’s. Margaret would be happy to see you there. You know where it is, okay? Bye.” Then he hung up without giving me a chance to say anything.
Shit! What was I thinking?
When did I start assuming that Nicholas would go all the way out of his usual preference and ask me out? Was that how irresistible I thought I was?
I could feel my face turning red. I stared blankly into space. That was so embarrassing! Stupid Ken!
When I found out Brett was studying me, I stared at him and raised a brow. He ended up chuckling. “Now, I’m really curious. Who was that?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
He shrugged. “I have never seen your face with color before.” He grinned at me knowingly.
“Sure you have,” I argued. “We dressed up as zombies last Halloween. My cheek flesh was supposedly exposed, rotten green and bloody red.”
Brett rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, genius,” he said in an irritated tone. “Come on. Do tell. Who called?”
“No one important,” I insisted. I looked away, hoping he would give it up.
When he didn’t say anything for a long moment, I glanced at him from under my lashes. He was still studying my expression. I raised an annoyed brow at him.
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I heard a rumor today."
I gave him a bored expression. “So what? Since when did I become interested in rumors?”
“Now,” he replied.
“Because?”
“Because it’s about your bestie,” he said. He rolled his eyes, showing his intense annoyance.
Brett hated Jen—with his entire soul. He always thought that she was only using me because I was rich, popular, and smart. I remembered one time when the three of us were at the mall, and Jen spotted a purse that she loved but couldn’t afford to buy because it was worth three months of her allowance. I handed in my credit card and bought it for her. Brett walked out on us and told me he would speak to me in private soon. When I visited his house the next day, I was in for the lecture of my life. I remembered then never to give Jen any present in front of Brett.
“What about her?” I asked a little nervously.
“They said she was seen walking into a hotel with a guy,” he replied as carefully as he could.
Nicholas? When? How?
“With who? Don’t tell me it’s with Atkins!” I said angrily.
Brett shook his head. “No. It’s JD Collins.”
JD Collins, JD Collins.
I tried to call his face to my memory. Then I remembered this sweet-talking guy in Social Science class. He was not really good-looking. Not even half as hot as Nicholas Atkins, but he was a talker. And his reputation was bad news.
Wasn’t he going out with Terry Lakefield, a redhead from my Statistics class?
And wasn’t Terry one of Jen’s friends? I remember they used to go to slumber parties together.
“Which hotel?” I asked Brett.
He raised his right brow in response, and he need not say more. I took my phone and dialed a number.
“Joe,” the guy on the other line answered.
“During the past four days, did anyone by the name of JD Collins check in?”
“Depends on what you will do with the information,” he responded.
“I just want to confirm a rumor before I call an assassination hit,” I said in a cold, lethal tone.
“Am I going to be implicated?”
“Did I ever get you into trouble?” I asked back.
“Give me five minutes,” he said before hanging up.
Brett stared at me for a long moment, and then he shook his head in disapproval.
“What?”
“If your father knew you’re using some of his employees like that, he will kill you, bro.”
“No, he won’t. I’ve done worse than that, and he didn’t even cut my allowance,” I retorted.
“I get that you’re finally using your resources and acknowledging the fact that you’re Robert Clarke’s flesh and blood. In fact, I approve of that. But to do that for Jennifer Gracie? Come on! She’s not worth it.”
Before I could say something, my phone rang.
“Positive. Three nights ago. JD Collins checked in. He booked our promotion offer,” Joe said.
That fucking cheapskate!
“Did he go alone?”
“I knew you would ask, so I checked the security cameras. He took a girl to the room.”
“Redhead?”
Please say yes!
“Blonde,” he replied. “I thought I’ve seen her around before with you.”
My heart stopped beating for a second. I hung up on Joe without another word.
I stood up from my seat and headed for the exit. I didn’t know what I planned to do, but I just knew that I had to do something.
Brett ran after me. “Where are you going?” He stood in front of the door, blocking my way. “Before you try anything, please consider that you’ll be graduating in a month with at least a magna cum laude distinction. You have enough money saved up on your own, and Isabella had left you a small fortune, enough for you to move to another city and start your own practice. Or you could stay here, reconcile with your father, and learn the ropes to his entire empire, which is worth a couple of hundred million,” he said firmly. “Either way, you’ve got everything going for you. Don’t waste it by defending the virtue of a girl who’s only using you to make herself look and feel good.”
I gave him a murderous stare. “Stay out of my way, Brett.”
He held his hands up in the air. “Okay. But think about what I said, okay?”
I shoved him out of my way, headed out of Rhythemes, and walked to my car in haste.
I have been so obsessed with making Jen stay away from Nicholas that I forgot there were other dangerous guys around. There were other men who wanted nothing but her body without taking her feelings into consideration.
What was she thinking? How could she do this?
I thought she would use her brains instead of her heart even if I wasn’t around to protect her.
Moreover, Terry was her friend. How could Jen sleep with her friend’s boyfriend? Don’t we have this sort of girl code? Do you never sleep with your female friend’s boyfriend, ex, brother, or father? Hadn’t she heard of that shit?
I reached Jen’s house in a record time of eight minutes. I rang her bell. Twice, thrice. Finally, I saw her coming out the door to answer the gate.
She raised a brow at me. “Not now, Kenny. I’m not in the mood to speak to you.”
“Really? Why? Because you were busy banging your friend’s boyfriend?” I asked acidly.
Her eyes widened. Apparently, she didn’t think these rumors would reach my ears.
“How… how did you …” she stammered.
I was about to answer, but I was interrupted by the sound of screeching tires behind me. I turned around and saw a green beetle park behind my car.
A familiar redhead in a yellow dress stepped out of the beetle. She had a look of murder on her face.
“You bitch!”