Page 651 of Filthy Elites

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you turned Jenna down again. It’s not like you to turn away easy pussy.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “You’re fucking the new girl, aren’t you?”

I take another drag and hold the smoke in my lungs, causing more damage to what I’m sure is already there given the amount of shit I smoke.

“Why the question?”

He laughs. “Jesus, Chad. Since when do we keep things from each other. Especially shit about chicks. I know you’re fucking her. I’ve seen you with her a lot.”

I haven’t exactly been careful. People might be talking, but they’d never let me know they are. They’d be too scared to.

“You like her, and I think it’s okay to,” he adds.

“You do?” He might not be saying the same things if he knew about my arrangement with Billie.

“She’s just a girl, Chad. I might be high right now, but have you ever just considered that it might be okay to like her since she had nothing to do with her father’s shit?”

I have. There have been several times over the last few days where I’ve pushed the whole thing to the back of my mind and wondered if maybe this could work.

Billie didn’t have anything to do with what her father did, and yes, I do like her.

I think I might more than like her, but she wants to leave.

I won’t be enough to keep her here. And why should I be?

It was me who wanted her gone. Me, who provided the way for her to leave.

Me, who was the fool all along.

* * *

Saturday morning comes again all too quickly,as if time has decided to be my enemy and work against me.

Billie and I have ten days left of our agreement.

I hardly slept after she left last night, and I was up early staring at the wall, wondering what the hell I’m going to do when we stop seeing each other, and she leaves New York.

I mulled over it for hours, never coming to a solution that didn’t see me slipping back into my old ways.

The crazy thing about doing that is when a guy like me meets someone like Billie Fairchild; you’re never the same again.

The thought lands me in even more trouble when it pushes me to

check out where she is by tracking her phone.

I’m surprised when the tracker picks her up in the research center of St. Peter’s Hospital. That’s where Mom worked, although her charity was in Long Island.

The hospital was where it all began.

What is Billie doing there?

She never mentioned working there, but I suppose she wouldn’t.

There’s a possibility she knows Mom worked there. That’s probably why she didn’t say anything.

I check the hospital site on my computer and look at the visitor’s log on reception. It shows Billie is one of the new volunteers for the center. She checked in at nine this morning and will be there until one. That’s in an hour.

If I hurried, I could get there for one.

Wait… what?

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