Page 108 of Dirty Roulette
“Thanks for helping me learn how to drive.” I smile.
He holds out his arms and wraps me in a tight hug as we walk. I’m a sucker for hugs, so I squeeze him back and lean my head into his shoulder for a few seconds. “Text me when you get back. We’ll host a Martha Stewart party and look up some old grandma recipes, and everyone will cook together.” He wraps another arm around me and puts me into a chokehold type of hug.
“I’ll see you later, princess.”
“Night.”
Noah takes off, and I watch him fade into the dark parking lot, climbing into his truck and taking off. At the same time, the dull streetlights beam off a yellow Jeep a few cars past mine. My heart sinks, not even sure if I’m staring at an empty seat or a silhouette of someone sitting inside. Jeeps are common. I’d rather not hype myself up for some magical coincidence that Ryder is here wanting to talk to me and make amends for whatever demons we hold for each other.
I hold tight onto the cold metal stair railing, taking one step up and the headlights of the Jeep turn on. The white lights burn into my retinas. They pull out of the parking space, and I stand frozen, staring into the tinted windows as they drive past me. When I see the license plate, my heart sinks. Itishim.
I run down the parking lot, my arms pumping as my feet pound against the pavement. I should be waving my hands, or being that crazy girl yanking off their shoe to chuck it hard enough to hit the window in hopes of getting his attention. But I stare at the red brake lights and swallow the chunks of all my regrets resurfacing. Getting over Ryder is like being thrown into the Hunger Games. It’s a blood sport.
Chapter forty-one
Payton
It’s been another long week. I jiggle the keys in the lock of my dorm and open the door, seeing Naomi with her cakey makeup, snaggletooth, and the strange mole on her face folding clothes neatly on Charlie’s bed. My heart pounds miles per minute. The furious beating burns more than stubbing a pinky toe.
“Hi...” I say and throw the dorm keys on my unmade bed. “I didn’t realize I had a new dormie.”
I switch on the warm lamp on my desk. It illuminates my side with posters of rock bands from the 80s and 90s.
Naomi combs a hand through her short blonde hair, ruffling the layers as she stares down at the bed. Her belongings are halfway unpacked and sleeves of shirts hang over the side of a brown cardboard box.
“Did they not say anything to you?” She plops down on the bed Charlie slept on picking at her cuticles.
“No...” I let the duffle bag slip off my shoulder and tumble to the floor. I sag to my bed with those stupid princess sheets. I seriously need to douse them in gasoline and set fire to it. I figured they wouldn’t hand over the dorm in hopes of Charlie popping up and storming in to fight with me and then be my best friend again. “I didn’t think this would be how Roulette ends. Charlie missing, and me being the easy slut of GCU.”
Out of the thousands of students on campus, it’s Noami and her outrageously annoying squeaky voice. The chick butts into everyone’s personal space, breathing down guys’ necks for attention. She makes me want to pull out every hair follicle off my head for her to shut up.
“I saw Ryder earlier with his mom taping some missing posters of her up on the doors,” she says.
I’m honestly numb, starving to be more empty than I already am. If I’m drained of everything, then I can be deeper in a state of nothing but being numb is still a feeling and I can’t handle it anymore.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I shrug my shoulders and frown at her. “It’s fine...” My palms sweat as it’s one of Brittni’s minions that follows and mimics her every move, but she’s acting nice and not shouting out that damn nickname.
“Well, I don’t have any issues rooming with you if you don’t.”
“Weren’t you in the sorority house for Phi?” I ask.
Her lips mold into a puckered scowl. “Let’s not talk about that dumpster fire.”
“Why, what happened?”
“The haze kinda messed me up...” She crosses her legs, leans against the wall, and stares far away from my existence.
“You’re telling me. My nudes are all online. You want to know how many phone calls I was getting in the middle of the night. I hadsome old-ass grandpa telling me he wanted to rub my...” I mimic a gag thinking about his rancid voice I listened to the other night.
“Yeah... I was...” She visibly swallows and chuckles under her breath. “I was onshark week.” The blood drains from my face. She bites her bottom lip, nodding her head. “There’s a picture of me too. I passed out with my ass covered in blood.”
“You landed on Scottie P?” I recall the vague image of his hand covered in what I figured was period blood, but now it’s confirmed. How embarrassing. Pity melts into the bottom of my stomach thinking I had it bad with my tits trending on the internet. Memes and trashy people with nothing better to do than type cruel words on a keyboard about a girl being on a period feel even worse.
“You call Nick, Scottie P?” Naomi tilts her head with a brow cocked.
“Yeah, have you ever seen the movie We’re the Millers?” I ask.
