Page 17 of Look What You Made Me Do

He holds his hand out, and I give it to him, then he takes down my basic information. I fill the form out quickly, and hand that over, too.

“Someone will be in touch,” he says, already focused on his next task, which doesn’t involve me.

Perfect.

I feel so safe now.

As I head back out to my car, I consider calling Lux to ask if I can stay with her and Roman for a few nights. That’s how desperate I am. But if I do that, she’ll know something is wrong, and if I tell her what happened, I know for a fact she’ll freak out. And she’s finally happy. I can’t do that to her.

So, on my way to class, I text Alexis instead. I ask her if we can meet up for coffee between classes, but she doesn’t reply right away. Finally, about thirty minutes later, she texts me back.

Sure. I’ll be free in fifteen.

I reply quickly, then head straight over to the coffee shop, ordering lattes for both of us. She pops up twenty minutes later, smiling and cheerful.

“Oh, you got drinks already,” she says, giving me a side hug. “Thanks, babe.” She plops down in the chair and grabs her drink, taking a sip. “I literally woke up like, twenty minutes ago,” she laughs, then her gaze falls on me, and immediately, she notices something is wrong. She’s always been intuitive that way. “Everything okay?”

I should probably ease her into what I’m about to say, but I don’t. Everything that happened last night just kind of comes out like a firehose of information. Well, everything I can remember. Then I told her about what happened at the police station. When I’m done, I sit back and wait for her assessment.

She just blinks for a second, like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wow. Fuck. Are you sure it wasn’t a dream? I mean, you've beenreallysexually repressed lately.”

I don’t blame her for wanting to explain it away as a dream. That was my first instinct, too.

Leaning forward, I try to keep my voice down. “If it was a dream, then why was I completely naked from the waist down when I woke up?”

“Um, I’ve done that before. Stripped down in the middle of the night, and rubbed one out.” She leans forward. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just saying a spicy dream is plausible, too.”

“And the flowers that are popping in my room, on my desk…?” I ask, shaking my head. “How do they fit into this dream scenario?”

She shrugs. “Maybe you have an admirer and in the absence of answers, your subconscious conjured up a stalker who gives good head?”

I flash her a look. “That feels like a stretch.”

She pushes out a breath and shakes her head. I can tell she’s just trying to calm my frayed nerves, but it feels a lot like she doesn’t believe me.

To dispel the tension, I sigh and shrug. “Well, I guess we'll see when the tea comes back from the lab. I’m either right or I’m delusional. Assuming the police decide to test the bottle at all.”

“You’re not delusional,” she says. “You’ve had a rough couple of months, and you just need to get out, and have some fun. Tonight you can let loose.”

“Oh, right, the club.” I scrunch my nose. “I did say I’d go, didn’t I?”

She points at me. “Yes, you did. And a promise is a promise, so you can’t back out.”

I desperately want to back out. Shaving my legs and shimmying into shape wear sounds exhausting. But what’s the alternative? Sitting alone in my apartment, jumping at every shadow? Alexis is right. Getting out will be good for me.

We chat for a while longer, but eventually, she has to run off to class, so I’m on my own again. Normally, I’d head back home and relax before getting ready for tonight’s festivities, but what if my stalker is waiting for me? Andwhy, God, does that thought excite me a little? There’s something seriously wrong with me.

On my way back home, I stop at the local hardware store and pick up one of those chain locks. It’s not much, but it’s easy to install and might deter someone from breaking in. Maybe.

Back home, I install the chain. It takes longer than it should, and it’s crooked, but whatever. The door is a little more secure than it was before, which is something.

With that done, I turn on some music, so I can get ready for the club. I shaved my legs for the Founder’s Day celebration the other night, but they already feel like high grit sandpaper. And I need to re-paint my toenails because I’m wearing open-toed heels tonight.

Stripping down, I sway to the music and step into the shower. By the time I dry my hair, straight-iron it, put my makeup on, and squeeze into my tight red dress, I have five minutes to spare.

Earlier, I’d scheduled a car to come pick me up, and within twenty minutes, I’m stepping into the club. Alexis texted me about ten minutes ago. She’s already here with a couple of our sorority sisters.

Clutching my purse, I step up to the bar and order a Tom Collins. While I’m waiting for my drink, I text Alexis to tell her I’m here. It’s so loud, and there are so many people here tonight, I wonder how I’m ever going to find my friends.

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