Page 22 of Love to Defy You
The sky is still dark, but a full moon casts a luminous glow over the earth. Thick foliage covers the exit, so I lift the door farther and peek my head out.
I emerge in an empty courtyard surrounded by Renaissance-style buildings with stone columns and facades. In the center is afountain, and the water trickles in the silent night. Interspersed between the dim lampposts stand multiple trees, and their branches cast strange shadows on the sidewalk paths.
A familiar building across the quad rises above the others with a domed rotunda. It’s the administrative building for Weltner College; it’s plastered all over their website and brochures.
I let out a long exhale. Now that I know where I am, I can navigate my way back to the apartment, which isn’t far.
Once I emerge from the tunnel, I close the cellar door behind me and wade through the thick brush toward the sidewalk, but the scraggly branches scrape my legs and dig into my feet. One catches on my sweatpants and rips a hole in the fabric.
Although I’m used to the cold, I don’t make a habit of walking around barefoot in the middle of the night in nothing but a pair of pants. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and my nipples grow so hard I could chip ice on them.
The past hour feels like a hellish fever dream—so surreal it makes me question if it truly happened at all. And all I have to show for it is a busted lip and an aching rib cage that’s sure to bruise by morning.
I groan. “Fuck this.”
Clutching my side, I hobble down the sidewalk and begin the lonely trek home.
Chapter 6
Willow
I’m drunk, and I’m panicking.
When I stumbled into the apartment after barhopping with Josie, Alek wasn’t home. I checked every room in this colossal penthouse, but there was no sign of Alek, and when I tried calling him, his phone rang on the bedside dresser. His textbook lies open on the bed, wrapped in tangled sheets.
Alek isn’t here, but his phone is, and that isn’t normal. How long am I supposed to wait before calling the police?
I call Josie to ask what I should do, but the call goes to voicemail, and her posh accent rattles off a standard recorded message.
“Biiitch, pick up your phone,” I slur. “Call me as soon as you get this.” When I try to end the call, my finger slips on the screen, and I tap a few more times until I get it. “I’m way too drunk for this shit.”
If my feet didn’t hurt so much from those stupid heels, I’d be pacing the living room right now. But instead, I’m glued to thecouch, chewing on my thumbnail and bouncing my leg while I watch the front door like a hawk.
Come to think of it, it’s probably for the best that I’m not pacing on my feet, since the floor is tilted at an angle.
The front door opens, and when Alek crosses the threshold, I leap off the sofa and scream. “Thank God, you’re all right. Where were you?” When I stand up to greet him, I grab the wall to keep from falling over. “Wait, where’s your shirt?” I glance down at his dirty feet. “And your shoes?”
He shuts the door behind him and leans against it, clutching his side. With a groan, he rests his head against the door and closes his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I amble up to him, but when his face swims into better focus, I gasp. His lip is bleeding, and a purple bruise rims one of his eyes. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
I stumble into his arms, and he catches me before I fall. He envelops me in his warm embrace and buries his face into my neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re drunk,malishka.”
“Yeah, well... that’s not important right now.” I lean away and take his face in my hands so I can get a closer look at his injuries. “Were you mugged?”
“No.”
I take his hand and lead him toward the kitchen, and he grabs my shoulders so I don’t swerve into the wall. I point at a barstool at the island and start to rummage through the cabinets. “Where’d we put the first aid kit?”
Instead, Alek washes his hands and wets a kitchen towel, which he holds to his lip. “Check under the sink.”
By some miracle, I manage to crouch down without falling over, and I locate the first aid kit. I pull it out and set it on the counter, then use the corner to pull myself upright.
Alek snorts. “Please tell me your dress didn’t ride up like that at the bar.”
I glance down, and my skirt is bunched up around my waist to expose a lacy black thong. “Ah, shit. I hope not.”
Shaking his head, Alek opens the lid and rummages for supplies.
