Page 1 of Keeper
1
Ainsley Carter
My whole life changed when I got a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hey baby whats up? Love u sexy girl.”
I was sure someone had the wrong number because that message sure didn’t sound like it was from anyoneIknew.
I put my phone away and went back to work, taking in the campus sights and sounds. It was the last day of classes before Spring break began and, as luck would have it, the first day of nice weather we’d had all semester. It seemed like everyone on campus emerged from their hideouts and winter coats, like tired bears emerging from a long hibernation, now free to run around and play and bask in the sun.
I couldn’t have asked for a better day to get started early on my photography assignment: to capture an unaware subject in his or her natural state to allow their true personality to shine through. And what better place to snap a candid photo than the beach?
We’re not talking about anactualbeach with sand and salt water, mind you—this isKansas, after all. Rather, “the beach” is what us students call the social spot where we congregate between classes. Honestly, the beach is really just a giant lawn on campus where people hang out. But hey, us Kansans have to make do with what we have.
Crouching in the grass, I held my camera in my lap, where it wouldn’t draw attention. I sat patiently, waiting for the right subject and the right moment to reveal itself.
Nearby, a group of sorority girls picnicked on the lawn, telling stories and making each other crack up. I caught one just as she burst into an joyous, full-bodied laugh.Snap.
A duo of shaggy-haired, patchy-bearded upperclassmen leisurely flung a frisbee back and forth. Break was near and they didn’t have a care in the world.Snap.
A group of athletic boys attempted to walk a tightrope that they’d stretched at a harmless height between two ancient trees. They’d taken off their shirts, too—becausewhy not?Not that I’m complaining.
Show-offs,I thought, biting my lip as my shutter wentsnap.
My phone chimed again. I pulled it out of my bag and my eyebrow arched when I saw a new text from the same mysterious number as before.
“U make me so horny,”the message read.
“Ew,” I muttered to myself. “Gross.”
I was starting to think that maybe thiswasn’ta case of a wrong number—maybe it was a text message spammer? I didn’t dare reply, out of fear that the simple act of replying to his text might somehow encourage him. Or give my phone a virus or something.
The second I put my phone away, it wentdingagain. This time, I ignored it for as long as I could, trying to focus on my assignment.
Whew.That early Spring sun started to feel a little hot—I took off my light sweater and tied it around my waist.
I tried to go back to my photography, but it was futile. I couldn’t focus with those weird text messages lingering in the back of my mind. Curiosity got the best of me and I picked up my phone again.
“Aren’t u gonna say hi to me, Ainsley?”
My heart stopped in my chest.
Whoa.
Wait. Hold up.
Whoever was texting meknew my name.
That changed things.
Slowly, cautiously, I peeked up from my phone. The tables had turned—now I felt likeIwas the unaware subject. My eyes scanned the campus beach, looking for the culprit, but I didn’t have a clue who orwhatI was looking for. I saw nothing but friends hanging out, noses buried in books, and muscular tightrope walkers. No one seemed interested in me at all.
I hastily tapped out a reply, my palms going slick. “Who is this? You’re freaking me out.”
He replied immediately.“Wanna suck my cock baby?”
Ugh.
