Page 8 of Austen Persuaded

“Did—did he stop by? Brandon, I mean?” I asked, trying to sound casual while tracing a pattern on the only dry part of the pillowcase.

“Not that I know of—hey, you look like you’re going to hurl. Can I get you a bucket, or, like, some salted crackers or something to munch on? Pepto?”

The room did seem a little spinny, now that I considered it. I shook my head, choosing instead to just lay back down on the bed. “I’ll be fine. You can check on me later.”

“Annie, are you OK? Are you sure you don’t need anything?” His own forehead was wrinkled in concern as he put his hand on my face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I rolled over, pulling some nearby blankets over me. They felt clammy, just like I did, but they would do. I just needed a barrier between me and the outside world.

Chapter 4

Iheaved a great sigh under the covers, face down.

Dry.

It was my first concrete thought as I registered the feel of my left cheek buried into the pillow.

A little rough-textured and scratchy.

But dry.

I tentatively sniffed the pillow. It didn’t smell like vomit or sweat or any of the other horrific things I’d experienced in the past … how many hours, or days? I had no idea.

I slowly turned my head and braced myself for the onslaught of light. Reluctantly, I opened one eye at a time. Swallowing felt impossible. I managed to rise, bracing myself with my hands, and then reached over to the nightstand for some water. My brow wrinkled as I saw the ice cubes floating in it.

I stilled. Someone had been in here recently.

After taking a quick sip, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and sunk back under the covers. If my roommates came in, I’d feign sleep again. It wouldn’t be a tough sell, surely, if I’d been passed out for … how long?

I turned on my phone screen and saw ... Friday, March 26, 9:13 am.

Friday? I searched my brain frantically. I’d fallen ill on Tuesday. According to my phone, it was now Friday.

According to my phone. As if my phone is lying to me. What is wrong with—

Before I could sink into negative thoughts again, I watched as my unread text notifications appeared. I searched the list for one name, and my breath hitched when I didn’t see it. Brandon hadn’t texted? I looked at the notification list again—no voicemails either? Rainn said Brandon hadn’t stopped by, but maybe he’d been at work. Rafael might have seen him.

He must have tried to see me. Or talk.

He cares about me. He does. Maybe even loves me.

Why did I sound like I was trying to convince myself, when there was never any doubt before? I exhaled sharply, my lips downturned in disgust.

Before I could continue this dark line of thinking, my stomach filled with dread as I read one of the waiting messages.

Jacqueline

Anastasia, darling, you haven’t rung me in so long.

I closed my eyes, as though I could shut out the feelings, but it only brought them into sharper focus. My mother was the very, very last person I needed to hear from right now. Or ever. There was no way on earth I’d be calling her back today. She would only make me feel worse about myself and then do what narcissists do best—turn all the attention onto herself.

She was toxic, to put it mildly, and I’d decided years ago to stop indulging her.

But it was easier said than done.

With a grimace, I deleted the message and started scrolling through the rest of the notifications before hearing a knock at the door. I quickly hid under the covers, face down while trying to breathe evenly to feign sleep. I couldn’t help but notice how fresh the top blanket smelled. Clearly my roommates had gone to the trouble of laundering everything while I was passed out.

I could tell by the footsteps that it was Rafael. He was a dancer, his steps graceful and dramatic. He always sounded like he was floating across the floor. Besides, Rainn would be at work by now. I sensed Rafael standing by the bed for a moment, presumably assessing the situation, and then he floated out of the room.

After hearing the door close, I breathed a sigh of relief. This was beyond ridiculous, hiding from my roommates, but I needed time. Alone. I couldn’t face their questions, their pitying expressions, their advice.

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