Read Online (Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon by Tara Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Tara Brown
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you might have been messed with.”
My world spins, and my mind goes for the most logical explanation. She’s a fucking liar. I turn and run down the hallway, my Hunter boots clomping on the tile floor. When I know I’m lost I stop and stare at the map on the wall. I go down a set of stairs and down another hallway. The sign for the literature hall stops me dead in my tracks. Dick Hanson is the name on the plaque. I hurry to the wall, peering into the room through the slim window in the door. An old man wearing a very feminine purple scarf leads the class. He has gray hair and a bit of a mustache that matches his head. He’s a little chubby and definitely not Derek.
I back away until I hit the wall and slump onto a bench.
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t know how to respond. He’s not a professor?
I pull my phone out, texting Angie in all-caps rage.
WHAT THE HELL? YOU SAID YOU KNEW DEREK! HE’S NOT A PROF! HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM?
She doesn’t message me back. The text doesn’t even deliver.
I close my eyes, wondering how I got here. I need to go home. Not just my dorm but my house. I left Binx there after Christmas; he wasn’t enjoying the dorm life at all. I need a furry snuggle and maybe to reevaluate my life and classes and career ambitions.
I stand and stagger down the hallway, wishing I’d just stayed home for a year like half my friends. Or gone to Portland with my brother.
But I don’t end up back at school. I end up in a bar with a stiff drink and a plate of cheese fries. I drink a second glass and sit back, realizing I have been played. I have definitely been played. I message Angie again, but as before it doesn’t deliver. Her phone must be off.
I hate that I don’t know who he is or where he works. I hate that I let him cuff me on a lonely mountaintop and that he has seen me orgasm in the silver light of the moon. I hate that I have wasted my time—my precious first year at college—on a wanker like him. Wanker? God, I sound like Angie.
I lift my phone again, and in the reflection I see a face I don’t know. A girl I don’t recognize. She looks pretty but different from me in every way. She’s got dark hair and puffy lips, the kind people pay for. Her different-colored eyes are sad, like empty pools. I blink and she’s gone. Then it’s just me and the annoyance that’s plastered on my brow.
“Ash?”
I lift my head, smiling when I see Michelle. She might be the devil, but I could use a familiar face. I wave at her and Leona, realizing they’re holding hands. Not something I expected, but it seems to fit. They both seemed like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time in the dorms, to me anyway, as if they were fighting to fit in. Mean girls are always that way—conflicted and angst-filled. “Hey, girls!” I hold my hand out to the empty table in front of me. “Have a seat.”
They plop into chairs, and I swear for a half a second Michelle gives me a challenging stare. But I smile, because her evil mean-girl antics are nothing compared to being handcuffed and masturbated on. Nothing. Not to mention my reaction to said masturbating and handcuffing.
Leona grins. “You’re here alone?” She reaches across and steals a cheese fry.
I nod, sipping my overly strong drink. “I am. What brings you two in here?” It is the saddest place on earth, possibly. There’s me and one other guy in the whole place. He’s been at it longer than I have and is considerably drunk. He has grinned at me a few times, but I haven’t returned his smile. That hasn’t been super lucky for me lately.
“We were headed downtown for some drinks and some dancing. You wanna come?”
Michelle gives her a look, making me smile wider and nod. “Sure. I don’t have any plans.”
“What about your mystery man?” Michelle’s eyes narrow.
I almost congratulate her on the exact wording one would need to describe the piece of shit in my life, the lying sack of shit. Mystery man is
My world spins, and my mind goes for the most logical explanation. She’s a fucking liar. I turn and run down the hallway, my Hunter boots clomping on the tile floor. When I know I’m lost I stop and stare at the map on the wall. I go down a set of stairs and down another hallway. The sign for the literature hall stops me dead in my tracks. Dick Hanson is the name on the plaque. I hurry to the wall, peering into the room through the slim window in the door. An old man wearing a very feminine purple scarf leads the class. He has gray hair and a bit of a mustache that matches his head. He’s a little chubby and definitely not Derek.
I back away until I hit the wall and slump onto a bench.
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t know how to respond. He’s not a professor?
I pull my phone out, texting Angie in all-caps rage.
WHAT THE HELL? YOU SAID YOU KNEW DEREK! HE’S NOT A PROF! HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW HIM?
She doesn’t message me back. The text doesn’t even deliver.
I close my eyes, wondering how I got here. I need to go home. Not just my dorm but my house. I left Binx there after Christmas; he wasn’t enjoying the dorm life at all. I need a furry snuggle and maybe to reevaluate my life and classes and career ambitions.
I stand and stagger down the hallway, wishing I’d just stayed home for a year like half my friends. Or gone to Portland with my brother.
But I don’t end up back at school. I end up in a bar with a stiff drink and a plate of cheese fries. I drink a second glass and sit back, realizing I have been played. I have definitely been played. I message Angie again, but as before it doesn’t deliver. Her phone must be off.
I hate that I don’t know who he is or where he works. I hate that I let him cuff me on a lonely mountaintop and that he has seen me orgasm in the silver light of the moon. I hate that I have wasted my time—my precious first year at college—on a wanker like him. Wanker? God, I sound like Angie.
I lift my phone again, and in the reflection I see a face I don’t know. A girl I don’t recognize. She looks pretty but different from me in every way. She’s got dark hair and puffy lips, the kind people pay for. Her different-colored eyes are sad, like empty pools. I blink and she’s gone. Then it’s just me and the annoyance that’s plastered on my brow.
“Ash?”
I lift my head, smiling when I see Michelle. She might be the devil, but I could use a familiar face. I wave at her and Leona, realizing they’re holding hands. Not something I expected, but it seems to fit. They both seemed like they were in the wrong place at the wrong time in the dorms, to me anyway, as if they were fighting to fit in. Mean girls are always that way—conflicted and angst-filled. “Hey, girls!” I hold my hand out to the empty table in front of me. “Have a seat.”
They plop into chairs, and I swear for a half a second Michelle gives me a challenging stare. But I smile, because her evil mean-girl antics are nothing compared to being handcuffed and masturbated on. Nothing. Not to mention my reaction to said masturbating and handcuffing.
Leona grins. “You’re here alone?” She reaches across and steals a cheese fry.
I nod, sipping my overly strong drink. “I am. What brings you two in here?” It is the saddest place on earth, possibly. There’s me and one other guy in the whole place. He’s been at it longer than I have and is considerably drunk. He has grinned at me a few times, but I haven’t returned his smile. That hasn’t been super lucky for me lately.
“We were headed downtown for some drinks and some dancing. You wanna come?”
Michelle gives her a look, making me smile wider and nod. “Sure. I don’t have any plans.”
“What about your mystery man?” Michelle’s eyes narrow.
I almost congratulate her on the exact wording one would need to describe the piece of shit in my life, the lying sack of shit. Mystery man is
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