I spot a woman with blonde hair heading toward us with a strut to her walk. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember her name.
“Oh, my God, Alex. Where the hell have you been!” she exclaims, strutting toward me.
Shit. I remember her now. She’s the woman who gave me her number back when Gemma and I were in the library working on that stupid project. Although I never called her, she seemed to track me down at every class and party. She was a complete bitch to Gemma, treating her like a piece of garbage, and I hate myself for never saying anything to stop it.
I cough into my hand. “Code red. We need to get out of here.”
Gemma stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What are you talking about?”
Pushing away from the desk, I snatch the picture from the printer, grab Gemma’s hand, and stride for the exit.
“What’s the rush?” Gemma jogs to keep up with me. “Wait, is there someone here who knows us?”
“Someone’s here who knows me,” I stress in a low tone, “but not anyone who’s going to take off and tell my father. They’re just . . . I don’t . . . I’m really sorry.”
Her violet eyes skim the room filled with students, and then her lip twitches when she spots Blondie waving at me.
“Great,” she mutters under her breath. “Just what I need.”
“I never did anything with her,” I feel the need to explain as I squeeze by a group of people.
She marginally relaxes as we approach the doors. “She still treated me like shit. You know, she came up to me after class once and told me I was a freak and a slut, even though I’d never had sex before. Hell, I hadn’t even kissed you yet.”
“I think she was probably just jealous that I was so focused on you.” I open the door.
She doesn’t step through the doorway. “I don’t care why she did it. My entire life—at least the part I can remember—people like her were always teasing me and tormenting me.”
She motions for me to walk out first then follows me. But she doesn’t come with me when I head down the hallway.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but she only stares inside the union, holding the door open.
Blondie walks toward us, glancing from me to Gemma before sneering, “Oh, look, it’s the tramp—”
Gemma lets the door swing shut in Blondie’s face, and it hits her square in the nose.
“Ready to go?” Gemma asks, brushing past me and making a beeline for the doors.
Fuck, her confidence is totally turning me on.
Adjusting myself, I snag her sleeve and steer her toward the exit. Once we’re outside and around the corner of the building, out of watchful eyes, I back her against the wall and slam my lips against hers. Then I brace one hand to the side of her head while my other hand explores her body. My fingers slip up her shirt, and I cup her breast. Her nipple hardens under my touch, and I get rock hard. I know I’ll have to stop soon, that my emotions will become too overpowering, but I push my limits like I always do, only pulling away when it feels like my lungs are being crushed.
“That was so hot,” I whisper, grinding my hips against hers before stepping back and catching my breath.
Her chest heaves as she breathes raggedly, her eyes wild and filled with lust. “That felt good.”
I don’t ask her if she’s referring to the kiss or slamming the door in that girl’s face. If her answer is the first, then I’m pretty sure I’ll kiss her again and end up killing us both.
“Ready to go?” she asks after her breathing settles down.
I nod, lacing my fingers through her. “Yeah, let’s go to Iceland.”
I don’t bother telling her that, once I find my mom, I have every intention of convincing her I’m the one who’s going to the Afterlife. I mean, there’s no way I could risk Gemma’s life like that or our child’s.
Whether Gemma likes it or not, I’m the one who’s going to die.
GEMMA
Letting the glass door hit that girl in the face like that might have been a childish thing to do; but, I’m not the weak girl I once was. The one who let people call her names and never stuck up for herself.
I try not to think about how guilty I feel for doing it as