Page 52 of Deliverance

“I want you to fuck off when I tell you to. I’ll text you when I need a wet hole to slip into. Other than that, stay the fuck out of my way.”

He storms past me, my stomach turns as I watch him jam his finger into the elevator button and step inside, forcing the doors closed before I even take a step. I try to push down my hurt. This is how Asher is. He’s in his playboy era. He will settle down eventually and when he does, he will realize I’m the best option for him. That we could be so beneficial to each other. It just takes time. He will come around.

Chapter Seventeen

Maggie

I hike my bag a little higher on my shoulder as I move through the quad. I’m so fucking relieved to be back on campus, but the only downside is that my favorite coffee shop is over two miles away. This summer, I typically just made coffee at the house, but I’m simply too fucking lazy for that. I’ll happily drive the two miles each way and pay fourteen dollars for my overpriced liquid fix.

I haven’t seen or spoken to Bridgette in almost three weeks. Not since the day she ripped out my fucking heart as she swallowed Asher Putnam’s cock down her throat. I didn’t believe a fucking word that she said. It was all bullshit. There was nothing to explain, nothing to shed light on that would suddenly make it okay. I saw her. She was all too willing, all too enthusiastic. I just feel fucking stupid for thinking that I would have been anything but a summer fling for her.

And that fucking letter? I didn’t read it. I didn’t want to. I knew what it was the minute it slid under my door. Just a plain white envelope with a red kiss mark across the front. I could see the slight show of her ink through the envelope, but I forced myself not to look too hard. I knew what was inside. It was either a bullshit half baked apology designed to invoke sympathy and overlook what a traitorous bitch she was or…it was goodbye. I couldn’t stomach either. So, I tossed it in my drawer and haven’t touched it since.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I brought it to campus. I don’t know why I did. I could have easily left it. I told myself I brought it to make sure whatever the fuck that happened between us this summer stayed quiet. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to snoop through my room the moment I left. I know deep down that was a crock of shit, though. As pathetic as it sounds, I wanted to bring it because it’s all I have left. It’s the only thing I have to remind me that this summer actually happened, that for just a moment, I had her. There is a beautiful irony in it all.

Shaking my head, I practically beg my mind to conjure up something, literally anything, other than Bridgette Brenton. As if the universe was waiting for that very thought, my eyes land on a very lost and very beautiful girl staring at the campus map like it holds ancient hieroglyphics.

Her white pantsuit and camel coat scream old money in a way unlike anyone else on campus. Of course, everyone that attends Gallows Hill is wealthy, but her…she screams Elder money. I’d bet my favorite dildo that’s the long lost Parris Princess.

Everyone else passes her by, casting her judgmental and curious looks as they go about their day. She’s like a museum artifact; look but don’t touch. Word traveled almost immediately about Asher’s new fiancée. Intrigue is piqued across the entire society as to who this girl is, why she’s been gone, and what she will be like. I mean, she’s basically Brethren royalty. That’s an intimidating person to approach. Good thing I’ve never given a rat’s ass about shit like that.

I come up beside her, looking at the map for a moment before I smile at her.

“You’re Skyla Parris, right?”

She frowns at me, her bright green eyes landing on me.

“Yes, have we met?” she asks, just the barest hint of an English accent on her tongue.

“No.” I laugh. “I’m Maggie Bartlett,” I say as I stick out my hand.

She takes it, nodding, though she doesn’t quite smile.

“Sorry, how did you know my name? It’s a big campus, and it’s a little odd.” She laughs awkwardly, like she’s not sure if she should even be talking to me.

I shake my head as I look around this place. The late seventeenth to early eighteenth century gothic architecture practically looms over us all like the gallows themselves. All tall and foreboding. Some may see beauty in it, but those that have lived here long enough, know that these walls more closely resemble a prison, than a palace.

“It may look like a big campus, but the student population is small, and we all grew up together. You’re the first new face that’s come around in a long time.”

“Really?” she asks, a hint of jealousy to her tone.

I nod, gesturing towards the map.

“I’m assuming you’re lost? C’mon. I’ll show you around,” I smile softly.

What looks like relief rushes through her as she throws an irritated look at the map, like it personally offended her. I can’t help but chuckle as she hands me her phone. I glance over her class schedule, nodding as I smile.

“Perfect. We have history up first together. Let’s go,” I say as I lead her towards Lewis Hall.

Skyla seems to struggle to keep up for a moment before she meets my stride. We make it to the door together and I open it first, making a sweeping gesture with my arm that makes her laugh as she steps in first.

“Thank you.” She smiles as we enter the lecture hall.

She takes a few hesitant steps before pausing, her eyes roaming around the grand room. I get it. The high arched ceilings, black stained glass, and gothic accents make it quite the sight. Definitely an adjustment from any other school. Looping my arm through Skyla’s, I guide her up the stairs as we head for the back rows.

She gives me a cautious look, like she isn’t quite sure about me, but that’s okay. I’ve already made my mind up about her. We’re going to be best friends. Maybe more if I try hard enough. She seems like she’s hiding a lot under that prim exterior. Could be a good time, for sure. Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right? Skyla Parris is definitely a woman I wouldn’t mind getting under, or on top of. Hell, I’ll settle for sprawling her out across this table in the middle of class and feasting on her sweet pussy.

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