Page 67 of Deliverance

“Hey, Bartlett,” he says before quickly turning his attention back to Skyla. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Not really, why?” she asks.

“I was hoping you’d do me the honor of letting me take you out?” He smiles, flashing his pearly whites.

I go to tell him hell fucking no on her behalf when she smiles like she’s into it. Glancing away, I shake my head. I’ll definitely have to debrief her about him once he leaves. I hear them talk a little bit more, but I try to tune it out because there is no way in hell I’m letting my best friend go out with that piece of shit.

“You know what, sure. Why not?” Skyla says.

“Yeah? Alright cool. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says with a wink before sauntering away.

I turn to face her, ready to give her all the dirt on him, when a furious looking Coach Ronan comes barreling down the courtyard. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he stops in front of us, grabs Skyla’s arm, and begins dragging her off and into the pool building.

Staring on in confusion, I don’t move for a moment before I shake my head.

Well, at least I don’t have to worry about her and Jeremy. My suspicions about Skyla hooking up with the swim coach have absolutely been confirmed. And the fact that he is her fiancé’s uncle and at least ten years older? Go best friend. Didn’t know she had it in her.

Continuing to head towards my dorm, I slip through the front doors before hitting the elevator. When the doors open, I pause. Bridgette is applying lipstick in the camera of her phone when she sees me. That bold red lip is perfectly placed against her lips and I can’t help but stare for a moment as she puts her phone and lipstick down.

“Maggie,” she says softly.

I don’t know if that’s all she has to say or if more is coming, but I don’t stick around for it because, honestly, I don’t want to know the answer. Turning to my left, I push open the door to the stairs and start heading up.

Chapter Twenty Three

Bridgette

When my father texted me that I needed to come home after my classes for the day, my stomach roiled. How am I supposed to enjoy the solace of being on campus if he wants me home every five goddamn minutes?

Anxiety swirls inside me as I step inside my childhood home, heading straight for his office. Doing my best to remain composed, I raise my head up high before knocking on his door.

“Come in,” his deep voice rumbles.

Stepping inside, my heels click against the hardwood floors as I stop in front of his desk. Several bookshelves line the walls, and the room constantly smells like a mixture of leather bound books, cigars, and single malt scotch.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask.

He looks up from his phone, his critical eyes giving me a cursory glance before he sits up in his seat further.

“Thomas will be coming by in an hour to pick you up.”

My brows furrow.

“Pick me up?”

“For your date.” My father supplies.

“My…my date?” I echo.

“Are you mentally incapacitated or just defiant?” he snaps, his fist slamming against the desk, forcing me to startle.

“No, I mean. I suppose I didn’t realize that we would be…going out,” I say carefully.

My father’s temper seems to ease slightly.

“He’s taken an interest in you lately. He’s asked my permission to date you. I’ve approved.”

“Why?” I question, snapping my mouth shut as soon as the words escape me.

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