Page 112 of SNOB

I damn near crumble when I see him walk into that precinct.

I’m not sure how long I sit in the passenger seat of his car waiting for him. Waiting for his money to get him out of this again, or for the McKinsley name to make it all better.

But he never does.

And I don’t know when he will.

A knot tightens in my stomach when I pull up to Saint Bons the next morning.

The school looks even bigger than I remember as I park his Bugatti back in his spot. Flipping down the mirror, my eyes tell the story I don’t have to.

I haven’t slept. I waited all night by my phone for news hoping they gave him a time out. Or put him in a cell with some drunkard to show the rich kid not to fuck up.

But nothing.

When I called the precinct, they wouldn’t give me any information and I was still too scared to give them my name.

Staying in that mansion without him is impossible. I booked a night at the Emerald instead. But it still didn’t bring the comfort I’m used to. So I curled up in the driver’s seat of his car until the sun rose.

The world feels like one big blurry bubble when I'm out the car in his black sweats. They overtake my body but I don't care. It smells like him.

I’m late for class but once I’m there, it’s no different. I don’t feel the motivation or inspiration to work or create. All I can do is sit there. Any vibrancy that was in this place is gone without his presence. Any vibrancy within me is gone without him.

How the fuck am I supposed to get through a semester without Mac?

I keep thinking that he’ll show up or be around a corner. Or sweep me off my feet when I least expect it. But that moment never comes. I only make it halfway through the day before I crave a bed. I can’t go back to that mansion, so I’ll curl up in a room at The Emerald, order room service and fade into darkness.

I love you, Butterfly. Thank you for giving me purpose.

It’s all too much without him.

As I leave the main building, I’m ready to get in that car and disappear. But my feet slow.

Tilting my head to the side, my eyes zero in on an image posted on one of the columns framing the main doors.

Moving closer, the image becomes clearer, my eyes narrowing. It’s a woman naked in the grass, green surrounding her tan body with nothing left to the imagination. It looks like something from a gallery, the symmetry giving it a touch of class. But one thing’s for sure, it’s a nude. A nude of someone I know way more than I’d like to.

“Hannah?” I mutter to myself. Blinking, I make sure I’m not too tired to see. My eyes scan the rest of the column, filled with the same photo, over and over again like a pornographic collage. “What the fuck?”

“Hey, Ember!” A couple of students greet me as they pass, giggling at the image in their hand. The same one on the column. It’s like I’ve entered some bizarro world where people are nice to me while they laugh at Hannah.

Bang!

The doors to the main building swing open before a screech fills the air. “Ahhhhhhh!” Hannah’s screech. My head whips to the noise, her scream going straight to my head as I wince.

She stomps out in a white pantsuit, flared with cutouts on the side. She heads to the column before ripping the images off with those long nails. My brows lower, watching as she frantically tears at the paper like a kid opening a gift on Christmas. Except there's no excitement and… oh fuck, are those tears in her eyes?

Looking back at the photos, my brows lower before I approach the column and rip off one of the images. Then another. And another.

Was this Mac? Was this his revenge on Hannah for taking the phone?

That red light flickers in my mind, Picasso, Evan. It makes me rip down the images with more force. No one should have access to her body if she doesn’t want them to.

Hannah glances over at me as I strip the column. The photos are tacked on so tight, it’s hard to get down. Her panicked rips slow, her eyes glancing at me again. Glancing back, her arms drop before she turns to me. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Are you helping me?”

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