Page 15 of The Chase

I ignore the sharp clenching in my chest and force all thoughts of Hunter and his busy, busy night out of my head. I continue scrolling through my phone.

A girl I knew in high school sends a generic note. Forsome reason, she still has me in her contacts list, so any time a holiday rolls around I get a message from her.

Hollis sends a few more texts that make me chuckle.

HOLLIS:Yo. bar’s closing. where u at. assuming getting a bj or sumthin?

HOLLIS:after patty at Danny’s house. new buddy. u’ll luv him

HOLLIS:OK then

HOLLIS:gunna assume u ded

HOLLIS:hope ur not ded, tho!!! I <3 u, bro. new year, new us. word.

Oh man. Someone needs to confiscate that dude’s phone when he’s wasted. Still laughing, I click on the next message in my inbox. It’s from Dean.

My humor fades the moment I read it.

DEAN:Happy New Year!! Was hoping to talk to u before u took off. I need a huge favor, bro.

DEAN:Are u guys still looking for a 4th roommate?

5

SUMMER

TWO WEEKS LATER

THE ASSISTANT DEAN IS PUTTING ON A FAKE BRITISHaccent.

I’ve been sitting in his office for about seven minutes now, and I’m convinced of it. I want to grill him about where he grew up, but I don’t think Mr. Richmond would appreciate the interruption. He’s clearly receiving way too much enjoyment from this lecture.

“…academic probation,” he’s droning. His voice has a weird, raspy croak to it. Like if a frog could talk, that’s how I imagine it would sound.

A nickname forms in my head—Asshole Frog.

“…zero tolerance policy, given the nature of your previous expulsion…”

Or maybe Froghole. That has a better ring to it.

“Summer.”

He pronounces my nameSum-ah. I try to remember how Gavin used to say it. Gavin is the sexy duke I dated last year when I spent the summer in England. I don’t think theiraccents are comparable, though. Gavin’s blood runs blue, so he’d have that upper-crust accent only those in line to the throne have. Granted, there are about forty members of the royal family ahead of him in the line of succession, but that’s still a whole other stratosphere above Mr. Richmond.

Briar’s assistant dean is no duke. And his first name is Hal, which doesn’t sound very British. Unless it’s short for something? Hallam? Halbert?

“Ms. Di Laurentis!”

My head snaps up. Froghole’s expression is as sharp as his tone. I’d zoned him out, and he knows it.

“I understand that rules of conduct and academic policies aren’t the most exciting subject matter, but you, of all people, should be paying attention to this. The remainder of your college career could depend on it.”

“I’m sorry,” I force myself to say. “I don’t mean to be rude or ignore you on purpose. I have, um, attention problems.”

He nods, eyes on my file. “ADHD, according to this. Are you on medication for it?”

I bristle. I’m not, but that’s none of his frigging business.

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