Lacey's Warriors (Bondmates #6) - Ann Mayburn Page 0,84

kid on the swim team who packed some serious dick. When the girls at the party saw him they went wild. Poor guy was blushing hard enough that she worried about him having a stroke.

Not wanting to think about last night anymore, she sipped the triple espresso her awesome roommate, Kimber, grabbed for her during her morning run. Unlike Kimber, Casey couldn’t imagine doing anything more than stumbling around for a couple hours, in her pajamas, feeling like crap. The bitter taste of the rich coffee filled her mouth and reminded her she hadn’t even bothered to brush her teeth. When she realized she’d slept until nine o’clock that morning immediate panic set in, and she stumbled to the bathroom before diving into all the crap she had to try to memorize. Her eyes were still gummy with sleep, but she forced her wandering attention on the book.

She could do this. Life was going well, but she was really focused on her goal of someday managing a five-star resort in some exotic location. She sighed with longing at the thought of living somewhere other than Michigan, somewhere it didn’t snow. Someplace exotic, where she could do new things, taste new foods, and give other people the kind of vacation experience they deserved. If she did well on her tests, she’d have a better chance of earning a recommendation from one of her professors that would get her into a kick-ass internship in Bali. The image of her lying on the beach was so clear for a moment she swore she felt the sun on her back.

No more shoveling snow nearly every day from December until April. No more freezing her ass off while digging her car out of the snow.

No more fish-belly pale skin nine months of the year.

Ahhhh, bliss.

But all the wishing in the world wouldn’t help her pass this class, so she lightly smacked her cheeks in an effort to wake up. She was still in her pink jammies and an old sports bra, her long black hair up in a messy bun, downing the espresso as fast as she could while praying to the gods of caffeine to wake up her hung over brain. Finally, her gaze focused and stayed on the poem, her lips moving as she read it to herself.

She closed her eyes and whispered the last stanzas of the poem while chewing on her pen, striving to give the words depth and meaning; according to her professor, ‘depth and meaning’ were forty percent of the grade.

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

A chill raced down her spine; she wrinkled her nose at the odd sensation then groaned as a headache began to throb behind her eyes.

Being hung over sucked and drinking coffee certainly wasn’t helping her dehydration.

She barely heard the shrill ringing of the old-fashioned, rotary dial house phone and almost got up to answer it before Kimber’s voice came faintly from downstairs. Ignoring her friend, Casey tried to figure out how to put more feeling in the words and kept saying the last part over and over, unable to strike the right depth of tone she wanted. It was a rather eerie poem, and she sighed in desperation at ever getting the right tone; she thumped her head against her pillow and swore profusely.

“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a fucking whimper.”

“Casey, phone,” yelled Kimber. “It’s your sister.”

Normally, she would have ignored the phone call—she had her cell phone turned off for a reason—but at the mention of her sister, Casey reluctantly stood with a sigh. She left her small room in the massive old home she shared with her three other roommates, deep in the student-dominated section of Ann Arbor. There were frat houses and sororities all around them, but Casey and her friends were just a group of girls who’d known each other since elementary school sharing a house. With a sigh she stretched, tugging at her top when it tried to dip down too low. While she knew she’d been blessed by the titty fairy, it still sucked that, even with a bra on, she had to cross her arms over her chest to run down the steps. The battered, sturdy stairs creaked beneath her weight as she raced through the small foyer, decorated with paintings by some of her roommate Dawn’s artistic friends, to the