“Ugh!” I groaned into the pillow.
This crap went on for about an hour before I gave up and threw myself out of bed. Out in the living room, I didn’t hear any music or noise coming from Cam’s apartment. He was probably sleeping soundly while I was up obsessing over cookies and chicken tenders and ripped stomachs.
Stomping into the extra bedroom that had become more of a library/office, I powered on the laptop and brought up my email. There was one unread email in my inbox from my cousin. I deleted that without even opening it. On the left toolbar, I saw I had a couple of unread emails in my junk folder. Bored out of my mind, I clicked on the link and scanned the prescription drug offers, the “I have money in a foreign account” emails, and the notice that Bath and Bodyworks was having a sale. My eyes narrowed on the subject line of the one email that came in at around eleven last night.
It read AVERY MORGANSTEN and was from an email address I didn’t recognize.
Well, that was strange, because my email wasn’t set up under my real name, so it would be unlikely that it was a phishing scam. Only my parents and cousin had my email because, even though they had my telephone number, I’d rather have them contact me that way instead of calling, but no one else had it.
My finger hovered over the mouse pad. Unease rose as knots formed in my stomach. Tucking my legs against my chest, I told myself not to open it. To just delete it, but I clicked because I had to. It was like looking at a bad car accident alongside the road. You knew you shouldn’t, but you did.
I immediately wished I hadn’t. The knots in my stomach tightened and a lump formed in the back of my throat. Sick to my stomach, I pushed away from the desk and slammed the laptop shut. Standing in the middle of the room, I sucked in a deep breath and curled my hands into fists.
It was just three lines.
That was all.
Three lines erased thousands of miles.
Three lines ruined my entire night.
Three lines found me all the way in a little college town in West Virginia.
You’re nothing but a liar, Avery Morgansten. You’ll get yours in the end. And it won’t be in the form of money.
Chapter 4
I dragged myself into astronomy class ten minutes early and picked what I believed to be an inconspicuous seat in the middle of the amphitheater style classroom. A few other students were already there, sitting up front. Yawning, I scooted down in my seat and rubbed my eyes. The gallon of coffee I drank this morning hadn’t done a thing for me given that I only had an hour of sleep.
Three little sentences.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I rested my head on my forearm. I didn’t want to think about the email or the fact that I had reopened my laptop and went into my trash folder to see what my cousin had said. His email had just been one giant bitchfest on how I was letting my parents down and how his were worried sick and afraid I was going to put Mom and Dad through another episode. You need to come home, he had written. It is the right thing to do. It was the right thing for them, and while my cousin sided with my parents and oh, about ninety-nine percent of the town, I doubted he had been behind the email.
The email address was unrecognizable to me, and while there were a lot of people that it could’ve come from, I really didn’t know who it was. It couldn’t be him because even he wasn’t that stupid to try to contact me.
Or was he?
A shudder rolled down my spine. What if it had been Blaine? What if he found out where I moved to? My family wouldn’t have told him. Then again, they could’ve told his parents because they were, after all, country club pals. I was going to murder them if they did. Seriously. Catch the next flight to Texas and murder them, because the whole point of coming here was to get away from—
“Morning, sweetheart,” came a deep voice.
I jerked my head up and twisted in my seat. Surprised into speechlessness, I watched Cam slide into the empty seat next to me. I was a little slow on the uptake because I knew I should’ve said the seat was taken or tell him to move, but all I could do was stare.
He settled back, looking at me sideways. “You look a little rough this morning.”
And he looked remarkably refreshed for someone who had been partying last night. Hair damp and all over the place, eyes bright. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to see you make it to class this time.” He paused, tilting his head back against the seat and kicking his feet up on the seat in front of us, his eyes on me. “Though, I kind of missed the whole running into each other thing. Provided a lot of excitement.”
“I don’t miss that,” I admitted, bending over and rummaging through my bag for my notebook. “That was really embarrassing.”
“It shouldn’t have been.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re the one who got plowed. I was doing the plowing.”