The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,3
do it in person. Did the message say when I can see you again?”
“It just said this week. But I’ll be there on Thursday to tutor another student. I could meet you in the library?”
“Maybe,” I say, seriously considering it. Just thinking about a whole week without seeing him is already making my heart skip in panic. Which is also … weird. “No matter what though, I don’t regret it.”
“Regret what?”
“The other night. What we said. Everything we did,” I say. My body warms with the recollection. “It was … pretty perfect.”
“Yeah. It was.”
My phone beeps, alerting me of my nightly check-in. “I have to go. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“Lana, I—”
Before he can finish, the call ends abruptly. I pull the phone away from my ear to find the screen filled with the square head of the security officer.
“Calls are suspended for the rest of the week. No visitors. And you’re restricted to classes only. Meals will be sent to your room. You can order through your phone. We’ll be monitoring you.”
I stare at him with my teeth gritting in annoyance, fury creeping in. I’m about to tell him where he and his monitoring can go when he disappears. It’s official. I’m imprisoned.
But I still don’t regret a single second of my time with Grant in the firefly field last night. I’d do it again … without my phone. I toss the phone on my nightstand and flop back onto my pillows. I want to be angry. But … I can’t. I smile wistfully. I can’t believe I’m in love with him. But I am. Tingles erupt up along my skin as I continue to grin like the idiot I am.
It’s only one week. I’ll survive.
Then again … I never thought a week could go by so slowly. It’s literal torture.
I wake every morning to Mr. Garner’s face. Spend the morning punching the crap out of something—which may be my only salvation—or breathing deep in search of Zen and never finding it. Eat in my room and only go outside to walk to class. The few people in my classes are the only faces I see. The in-between times are mind-numbing. I think I’ve attempted every hairstyle in existence and performed so many makeup techniques that I could start my own YouTube channel—just to keep some thread of sanity. I listen to music in my room. Or work on my assignments. But that’s it. No books. No people. Nothing but my thoughts. And they’re not helpful.
I keep expecting Brendan or Ashton to knock on my door, but they don’t. Maybe they’ve been warned to stay away. I’m losing my mind, staring at the walls of my stunningly decorated room. Until Friday, when an envelope slips under my door and slides across my floor as I’m sitting on it, painting my toenails.
I stare at the bright yellow paper.
I twist the brush back onto the bottle and reach for it. Psycho or friend? Honestly, they could be the same person. But considering the flowers drawn on the cover, it’s not the psycho. I tear it open.
Jail break tonight after final check-in. Be ready.
The print is scrawling and feminine.
Ashton.
I’m not sure what to expect. Or when. Or if I’m willing to risk being kicked out of Blackwood for whatever she has planned, but when the light tapping on my door stirs me from my boredom a little after eleven, I am desperate for anything. I cannot spend a single second more stuck in this room.
Ashton pushes her way in, quietly shutting the door behind her. “Omigod, I swear See-er was right behind me. Security is extra tight for some reason. What the hell did you do? Murder someone?”
I raise my brows. “Uh, hi.”
She laughs. “Sorry. I haven’t seen you all week. I thought they had you locked in solitary somewhere. We’ve all been warned not to come near you or else we’ll be confined to our rooms for the next month. Seriously, what happened?”
“Are you kidding?” I scoff at the major overreaction. “They knew I left with Grant last weekend after the wedding. I don’t know how, but I’m stuck on campus for the rest of the month and haven’t been able to leave my room other than to attend class and go to the gym with Mr. Garner.”
“Really?” She looks baffled. “That’s what this is all about?”
I shrug. “I know. I don’t get it either. I take it, this isn’t typical?”