Page 1 of Moretti Captive
1.Harper
My butt is sore from sitting in this plastic chair for over forty minutes as Dr. Johnson goes over our Econ test notes. He’s harping on us about studying this weekend instead of partying on Greek Row. A few eyes roll. We’re all adults, and no one’s going to heed his warning.
I know I won’t. Not because I’m planning to party, but because it’s the Fall Festival this weekend. The number of drunk college students ordering ride-shares will be astronomical. Well, if they’re being smart, anyway.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out under the desk, so Dr. Johnson doesn’t give me the stink eye.
Slumlord
You’re a week behind on rent. Pay up by the end of the weekend, or I’ll be forced to evict you.
I grit my teeth. It’s not like he’s providing a good service. The apartment is so drafty the heat and AC just escape out of the window cracks.
Harper
I’ll get it to you by Monday night.
I bite my lip, hoping he agrees.
Slumlord
Fine. Monday.
I toss my phone in my bag and huff. I need two-hundred-and-fifty dollars by Monday evening, or I lose my studio. Not that the crappy apartment would be a big loss, but at least it has a bed. Plus sometimes it has hot water and electricity. It’s better than a bench in Central Park. I’ll have to work today, even though it was supposed to be my day off. Being an adult sucks.
When class finally ends, I gather my things and head out. I’ve made it halfway down the hall when someone matches my quick stride. Can the universe give me one peaceful day?
“Hey, Peterson.” He smiles.
I resist rolling my eyes. One thing I dislike about him is that he insists on calling me by my last name. “Hey, Duncan,” I say, refusing to call him ‘Cox’.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to the Beta Si party tomorrow.” He bites his lip.
I shake my head. “I’ve got to work.”
He groans. “That’s what you always say.”
He’s asked me out at least ten times this year. He’s not bad looking and he seems like a nice guy, I’m just really busy. “I’m always working. Some of us don’t get free room and board with our scholarships.”
Looking at his expensive watch and name-brand clothes, I’m sure he’d do just fine without it. “How about next weekend?” he asks.
I sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Come on, Peterson. Dinner. My treat.” He waggles his brows.
It’s a tempting offer. I haven’t been to a restaurant in forever. Plus, the possibility of a fuck was pretty tempting too. I’m just not sure I want to have sex with a guy that has the surname Cox. “I’ll check my work schedule and let you know next week.”
“Sounds good,” he says, grinning like I’ve already agreed.
I smile, giving him a small wave before making my way to the parking lot.
Sitting in my car, I toss my backpack into the passenger seat. It’s an older Honda Civic, but it’s clean and never been in an accident. It used to belong to my mom. Sometimes, when it’s hot out, I can still smell her perfume. It’s a nice reminder now that I can’t see her that often.
I open the ride-share app, expecting to wait a bit, but I get a request immediately. Pickup is at an office building in a ritzy area, with a stop at Saint Mary’s high school, and then drop off in a fancy residential area. It’s not the gilded mansions, but I could never dream of affording one of the houses there. I accept, and my phone dings with a message. The guy’s profile picture has me panting like a bitch in heat. Yeah, it’s definitely been too long since I’ve had sex. I force myself to look away from his photo and read his message.
Niccolò Moretti
If you get me there fast, I’ll tip seventy-five dollars and pay any speeding tickets you get. I’ve got to pick up my niece, but my car broke down.
