Page 5 of Obsession

I sleep my way through Art History and fumble through ceramics. Fortunately, since I frequently participate in classes, the teachers don't bother me today. But then again, I look like death warmed over, so they’re probably taking pity on me. It's when I’m hurrying out of class that I bump into a hard male chest.

“Oh shit, sorry!” I immediately crouch down to pick up the notepad that I had been in the process of stuffing in my bag.

“Megan?”

The familiar voice makes me go still, and I look up. Ricky Tomlinson, with his hipster good looks, was a guy I had a massive crush on a few months ago. The outcome of that crush was less than amusing.

“Ricky, what’s the holdup?” Comes another familiar voice, and I wonder if today is the day when all of my bad karma is going to come to bite me in the ass.

I don’t have time to move away because a fake-tanned hand slides across Ricky’s chest from behind just then, and a curvy brunette (a Kim Kardashian wanna-be) snuggles into his side. Her eyes widen in mocking laughter. Yeah, karma is after my ass. It’s Ashley.

“Oops, sorry, Megan, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Were you about to suck Ricky’s dick again to prove how much you adore him? I’m sure you don’t need a private room for that. After all, it’s not like everyone here hasn’t seen you do it.”

Her words make me flush in humiliation, but I force down my feelings, refusing to give in to the taunt. “Maybe you can giveme some tips. I heard some guys bragging about it in the parking lot behind campus.”

Ashley’s face turns a bright red. “Excuse me?”

I put the notepad into my bag and zip it up, keeping my tone deliberately casual. “I’m sure nothing is wrong with your hearing. By the way,” I fling the bag over my shoulder. “You need to ease up on your suction, according to one of those guys I overheard. You get a little needy. Nobody likes that.”

When Ricky snickers, Ashley flushes. “What the fuck are you laughing at? She’s obviously lying!”

I shrug. “Just wanted to be helpful. I believe in returning favors.”

Since we’re in a crowded hallway, she can’t do anything to me, but knowing Ashley, I’ll have to watch my back for the next few weeks. I quickly slip away, feeling only a glimmer of satisfaction at getting back at her because I know for a fact that the video she leaked out is still circulating amongst people.

My hands tighten over the strap of my bag, and I force myself to regulate my breathing. Having a panic attack in the middle of the University would just give room for more rumors. I don’t need that.

I’m nearly at the gate when I see a shiny black car parked across the road from the main gate. It's not the car that bothers me, but rather the two men leaning against it, studying the students. A bad feeling crawls over me, and I immediately turn my back toward them.

I'm usually not that paranoid, but ever since the incident at The Blue Whiskey, I cannot help but feel that I won't be forgiven that easily. I decide to climb over the fence behind the college. I've nearly reached the corner when I hear a voice. “Miss Taylor?”

I freeze and then peek over my shoulder, my hand tightening on my bag. Both men are standing behind me. One is a stockyman with olive skin who’s not much older than me if I had to guess, and the other is an older man with thin, pale skin and grey hair at the temples. They’re both wearing casual suits, which is an odd look for campus, and they study me. “You are Miss Taylor, right?”

“I uh, no? No.” I try to infuse some confidence in my voice.

“Then why did you stop when we called you Miss Taylor?”

I blink and slowly say, trying to think of a reasonable response, “Because I thought you said Miss Tayla.”

The two men exchange a look between them before they look back at me and assert, “You’re Megan Taylor.”

I take a step back, saying cautiously, “I can see why you think that, but I’m not Megan. Megan Taylor is taller than me and really pretty. I’m Tayla. It’s a family name.”

It’s the most ridiculous lie in the world, and I’m unsure if they're buying it. I just need to find a moment to run. If that asshole wanted me dead, he should've done it in the club three days ago. I've changed my mind now. I don't want to die anymore.

I see the younger one take out his phone to check something, and I'm about to make a run for it when the older guy grabs me without warning.

“This is her,” the first one says, holding his phone next to my face. “It looks just like her.”

“It does not!” I protest, trying to pull away.

“It’s definitely her,” the other man says dryly.

“If you try to kill me, I’ll scream,” I promise. “I've been told that I have a very shrill voice, and I'm also a biter. I'll bite your fingers off.” I infuse a bit of fake confidence in my voice, which sounds more like a squeak. “Try me, bitches.”

The two men wince. “God, you’re mean.”

The stocky one gives me a long look, basically rolling his eyes. “We’re not here to kill you, so calm down.”

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