Page 98 of Not A Whisper

Trip: She popped your tattoo cherries boys. You’re gonna want to get more sooner or later.

Jason: Did you get one too?

Trip: Dollface got my ass.

Jason: *laugh emoji* she got it AGAIN.

As I eat lunch in the breakroom, I snort at the text messages that came this morning. Other than the text messages from the guys, Pianna has sent over pictures of some of the dresses she likes. I smile as I inspect each one. This could be me one day, sending dress options to Pianna instead. Jason mentioned he’d be willing to give me all the bells and whistles. Is that offer still on the table? It was offeredbeforeI’d drugged him. It’s hard trying not to picture Jason in a tux. He would look so fucking good, I don’t know if I’d be capable ofwalking. It would be more likerunning.

And what about the other two? I’ve seen Grant dressed in a suit before, perfectly tailored to his specs, and by god—helookedlike a god. Would a tux just ascend him further into the world of perfection? Could I even talk him into it?

The thought has my heart sinking.

He didn’t seem too keen on the idea last night. Maybe Jason’s offer took him by surprise, sure. But even Trip, who’s not known for keeping his opinions to himself, had managed to rein in any objections to the idea.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly jumped at the prospect either.

I sigh, maybe it’s wishful thinking.

Quickly, I pick my favorite dresses of the ones Pianna sent and resend them back. Just as I get up to go back to lunch, I get a text from Trip in our own private thread.

Trip: You still mad at us?

Without hesitating I reply:

Me: Absolutely.

Me: But drawing blood has helped a little.

Me: I think disappointment has overshadowed it.

When time stretches and I get no response, I figure we’re done talking. I shove my phone in my pocket, keeping it with me rather than in my purse, and head toward the door. Just as my fingers wrap around the handle, my phone vibrates. I pull it out to check it.

Trip: Meet me at the shop after work?

Trip: I should be done by the time you get there.

Trip: I have something for you.

God, is Trip planning his own revenge now and it’s going to take place at his shop? My mind runs wild at the possible scenarios that could unfold there. I frown. Hm… for safety reasons I probably shouldn’t go. Grimacing, I start to text back that I’d rather not but stop when bubbles pop up—indicating that he’s writing. I stop texting and wait. The bubbles suddenly disappear. Oh, that’s weird. My fingers hover over my keyboard when the bubbles pop back up on my screen. I wait but they vanish again. I frown. What’s Trip reluctant to add? The answer comes a second later.

Trip: Please.

I stare at the words in disbelief. Aplease? From Trip? This has to be important for him to add begging to his request. And to ask privately? I sigh dramatically but type back.

Me: Ok.

With that, I head back out onto the floor.

Jonathanand I head out together but split apart as we make our way to different parking lots on either side of the college campus. There are a lot of students out and about this evening. Some have their heads together as they chat, some are preoccupied on their phones. All are heavily bundled up though. It's surprisingly chillier than normal out. The sinking sun and slight wind don’t help.

I quicken my pace. Just as I reach the parking lot that sits at the back of campus, a gust of wind blasts me in the face. I shiver. My jacket doesn’t seem to be enough to keep the cold at bay. I pull it tighter.

“Awfully cold this evening, isn’t it, Miss Wilson?” a voice says from behind me.

Dread is an avalanche as it pummels me.

My spine stiffens as a chill that has nothing to do with the season sinks down into my bones. I spin on my heels to find Garry Gipson standing there. With his hands in his jacket pockets and a pleasant smile on his face, Grant’s father almost looks friendly.

---