Page 120 of The Deceptions
Not to me, though.
My stomach swoops. Lead rests heavily there, threatening to send everything in either direction. Those nachos I had earlier? They’re about to make their escape.
Fuck.
Being back here is throwing me off my axis and threatening to put my ass in the dirt. I’m barely surviving surrounded by my past. Some days are better than most. But today? Looking over my final resting place with a fake smile, has me wanting to say fuck it and call Jordy to kidnap me. The last time I stepped foot in this graveyard, I wrecked my headstone and wanted to run off into the woods and never emerge.
If only…
I’m still knee-deep in this fucking job with no end in sight. I was really crossing my fingers and toes, hoping for a quick turnaround.
But nothing good ever comes my way. It’s bad break after bad break. Over and over again.
One day, Olivia Viotto will come out on top. But today is not that day.
I peer around us with a sigh, taking in the massive line behind us. Damn. Who knew so many fucking people went to the university. I mean, I’ve read the numbers on paper. In person, though? It’s mind-bending.
Thankfully, the people around us in line have been too busy pregaming with their own bottles of booze and getting lost in their conversations to notice me being too nosey for my own good. But I have to ask all these questions without suspicion, and Simon is the perfect person to facilitate them.
The people ahead of us walk through the gates of the cemetery while laughing and brushing past the two burlysecurity guards with mustaches and bald heads. They look like twins with their matching–I don’t want to be at a college party–expressions. I wonder if Franco hires them for these types of jobs. He does practically own the university, according to Jonathan.
"IDs?" one of them asks in a gruff voice, looking us up and down. His lip curls at me, like he’s not quite sure I’m old enough to enter the party.
Simon hesitates for a second, turning to look at me as I pull out my new wallet that houses my Oliver ID in it and hand it over to the guy. Simon physically relaxes and then hands him his.
The guards nod, handing us back our IDs, and then let us enter through the gates as they stop the people behind us and check theirs.
"That was weird," I mumble as we walk away from the guards checking everyone's IDs.
"They had an incident the first year. Some underage high schoolers found their way here and almost died of alcohol poisoning," he mutters, grabbing himself a bottle of beer and me a margarita in a can from a cooler. Right. I have to make it look like I'm here to have a good time. Not for any sort of reason. Besides, margaritas in a can? Never had those before. It can’t be as good as the freshly made concoctions, but I’ll give it a go. It beats beer any day. "So, they made sure it'd never happen again and added guards the next time around." He shrugs, taking a long pull of his drink and smacks his lips. “Delicious.”
Sure. Criminals not wanting to get into criminal activities. I guess the deaths of minors from town wouldn't look too great on their resumes.
"Simon!" a frantic voice cries out over the crowd with urgency.
Simon’s brows furrow as he looks around, finally catching sight of a very familiar brunette frantically rushing toward uswith a frown etched into her face. Her green eyes mist over with worry, and her fingers tremble when she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Hey, Gemma," he says with a slight smile. "You okay?"
"Have you seen Dane?" she asks, searching around the party, but brings her worried gaze back to us. “Please tell me you’ve seen him and he’s just mad at me.” Tears form in her eyes, begging Simon for a positive answer.
"Dane?" I interject, furrowing my brows.
She whips her gaze to me with wide eyes. "Oh! You're his roommate, aren't you?" There's a hint of desperation in her tone, and her eyes glisten more, threatening to spill tears down her cheeks.
"Yeah. But he's usually not there." I sip my margarita drink, relishing in the sweet strawberry flavor.
Gemma nods at my answer. You know, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Dane in a while. Not since the store incident where he made fun of my tampons for my nonexistent girlfriend. If he only knew they were for me. Man, I’d pay to see the look on his face.
"He went to the store the other night and took his car. But... I haven't seen him since. I thought maybe..." She sucks in a breath, holding her fingers to her lips. "I thought maybe he got cold feet or something and went back to your dorm.”
Things just got interesting.
"He didn't come home after he went to the store?" I don’t tell her I saw him there or that I know he was buying her supplies like a good boyfriend should. Most men don’t know the difference between supers and regulars. Not to mention, he's always with her around campus, sucking her damn face or squeezing her ass like a territorial alpha male, marking his territory.
So, I didn't blink an eye when he hadn't come back to our dorm room for days on end, because he never does. If you don't count that one time, he graced me with his presence and morning wood. Ugh. It's etched into my mind forever now. Other than that? Dane is a ghost.
"No. I texted him, and he said that he went home! His car is missing. I even called his mom, and she hasn't seen him. I..."
