Page 37 of That Pretty Pucking Mouth

I finish my makeup with a shaky breath and with one last glance at the mirror, I stand and straighten my clothes, a desperate motion to calm myself. “Ready to go? We’re going to be late.”

“Yep!” Cassidy chirps, bouncing to her feet, but then she pauses, her eyes sweeping over my outfit. “Is that what you’re wearing though?”

I look down at my clothes–baggy ripped jeans, a black turtleneck, a light green denim jacket and my Doc Martens. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable and right now, comfort is what I need.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She grimaces slightly before quickly morphing her expression into a grin. “Oh, nothing! If you’re going for the whole ‘90’s grunge look, then you nailed it.”

I roll my eyes. “Behavioral Psychology class isn’t the New York fashion week.”

She shrugs dramatically, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to your cozy vibe. But one day, I’m getting you into something short and tight.”

I glance down at her outfit–a fitted crop top that shows off her toned stomach, paired with high-waisted jeans, ankle boots and a matching leather jacket. Her look is effortlessly stylish, like she just walked off the set of some chic magazine shoot.

I shake my head, grabbing my bag from the edge of my bed. “Yeah, maybe when pigs fly.”

Cassidy laughs, hooking her arm through mine as we head for the door. “You say that now, but we’ll see!”

As we step outside, I try to shake off the lingering thoughts of Thatcher. But no matter how hard I try, it feels like his shadow stretches far beyond the frat photo, hanging over me as we walk toward campus.

Professor Miller’s nickname is ‘Slave Driver’ and now I know why.

I watch as he adjusts his blazer and steps out from behind the podium, grinning up at the exhausted class.

“Don’t look so glum, everyone! Remember, pressure makes diamonds. Or…it makes you drop out of my class.” His grin widens as a few students groan, and he claps his hands together, dismissing us. “Enjoy the rest of your day–and don’t forget the assignments due next week. I’m looking forward to your case analysis papers.”

After two straight hours of intense case analysis, my brain feels like it’s been put through a blender.

I stifle a yawn, shoving my notebook into my bag and glancing at the clock. Relief washes over me as I realize I have a small break before my next class.

Cassidy groans as she rises, stretching her arms above her head like a cat.

“I swear, this class is going to kill me,” she mutters, her face scrunched in exhaustion.

“Which is harder, being spanked by a puck boy or this class?” I tease, hiking my bag onto my shoulder.

Cassidy snorts, giving me a playful push. “Definitely this class. At least with Dylan, there’s some fun after the pain,” she quips, her eyes glinting with mischief.

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re crazy.”

She slips on her backpack and loops her arm through mine, pulling me towards the exit. “You say that like you didn’t ask.”

As we step out into the hallway, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the notification

A text from an unsaved number.

Time is running out, Dove.

My steps wound to a stop, my breath catching in my throat as I stare at the screen. The message is simple but loaded, the words sinking like stones into the pit of my stomach.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the phone as a cold chill crawls up my spine.

“Who is it?” Cassidy’s voice cuts through my thoughts, her arm still linked with mine as she pulls me toward the exit.

I force a smile, quickly locking my phone and sliding it back into my pocket.

“Just spam,” I lie, my voice too casual. “Ready to grab some coffee before the next class?”

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