Page 38 of Brat Baby
Reaching for my phone, I open the SugarLife app and sign into the group profile, Brat4Us. A few taps of my fingers, and then I log out with an exhale.
Less than two weeks until we know where we stand.
I change apps and open the picture she sent on Friday and enlarge it so that the entire screen is taken up with her shy, smiling face.
My beautiful baby girl.
Tapping on the picture, I save it to my phone.
Soon, baby girl. Soon.
Chapter 22
Emery
The trembling of my thighs as I come up the last few steps to the landing of my dorm room floor is something I’m choosing to ignore. Just like I’m ignoring the way the skin beneath my eyes feels stretched and tight.
To be on the safe side, I’ve kept my face angled toward the floor from the moment I entered the building, avoiding the gazesof any of the residents who happen to look in my direction. I have zero interest in the people using the common areas and hallways seeing the emotions written all over my face. The fact that I haven’t been able to keep them packed tightly on the inside in over a week is another irritation altogether.
One fucking weekend with a group of lying liars who lie stripped me of all the defenses I’ve built up over the years.
I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to adjust the straps of my duffel and backpack, both of which are cutting into my shoulders. And I change the overflowing takeout bag from one hand to the other, since the twine handles are gouging the palm of my hand.
They never showed.
But food kept showing the fuck up. More food than I could reasonably eat on my own.
They knew I was there. They were looking after me while I was there. But they never actually fucking came to look after me.
I have so many emotions fighting for pole position right now, with humiliation in the lead. The one good thing about all of this is that they didn’t actually see me hanging around their place, waiting for them like a goddamn lost puppy, begging for a fucking home, the entire stupid weekend. Somehow the distinction between them knowing and actually seeing is reassuring. Still embarrassing as fuck, though.
Fuck. Them.
I’m done. My stomach is one big ball of lead. They said we were over, that the contract is void for whatever fucking reason, and I’m finally going to believe them. Not showing up in the privacy of their own space when they know I’m there waiting for them? The message has been received, loud and clear.
I’m so done.
I stupidly thought we could work this out, that they didn’t really mean what they said on Monday, all because they havestill been sending gifts and because Xavier checked my cuts and gave me an orgasm.
Am I a fucking moron? Like, seriously. Do I really need to be getting down on my knees and begging for these assholes?
I’m no better than one of the girls on those reality TV shows who keeps going back to the douchebag because he has a magic dick, even after every single red flag he has waved in her face.
No more ignoring the red flags for me.
I’ll take the last of my rewards and be done. I’ll figure something out about getting the security card back to them. There are only fifteen weeks left of the semester. I can make it through that. I’ll move to the back of the class, make sure I am always early, and go through their TAs if I need anything.
I’m going back to concentrating on my goals. Studying, getting through college, graduating, getting a stable job, buying my own place—and a cat. Even thinking about my future white, fluffy friend has the uneven fluttering of my heart calming down. Yes, back to the whole reason I am here in the first place.
My feet feel heavy as fuck and my emotions are all but flat as I drag myself over the last step and start down the hallway. But I pull up short when I see the white box sitting in front of the door. Forcing myself forward the last few steps, I don’t acknowledge the two girls having a conversation in the doorway opposite mine. Or the music that is blasting from two doors farther down.
I simply unlock the door, shove it open, step over the box and head inside, beelining straight for the kitchen, where I pull open the fridge door, ready to jam the food in there, but it is oddly full of fresh food. Frowning, I close the door and put the takeout on the counter, figuring I will deal with that later. Then I go and dump the duffel and backpack on my bed before returning to the door to get the box.
When I open it, one of the girls makes eye contact with me and smiles. “It arrived maybe ten minutes ago?”
I offer her a barely there smile. “Thanks.” It’s the best I can manage.
Bracing myself for it to be heavy, I’m incredibly surprised when it is light as fuck. I almost throw my back out when I jerk upright with zero resistance. Thankfully, the two girls have disappeared into their room and didn’t witness my epic lack of grace.
