Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
I step inside and quickly press the button to close the doors.
When Killian brought me up in this thing, I thought it was creepy, but now the harsh fluorescent lighting and the creaking of the cables as the elevator descends make my stomach pitch.
Then it stops and the doors open.
A chill of unease ripples down my spine, but I ignore it and all the terrifying, empty space in the parking garage as I speed walk to Killian’s car. I press the button to unlock it four or five times and only give in to the paranoid impulse to look around a second before I rip the door open.
I throw myself inside, then yank the door closed and immediately hit the locks. I feel like I should breathe a little easier, but before I can, I check the car and the harshly lit space all around.
Nobody is here, Brynn. Settle down.
All I want is to get back to my apartment. Back to my life, really, before any of this shit happened tonight. I want a time machine to take me back a few hours to when I was putting on mascara, thinking smudges were the biggest threat I’d have to face tonight, and Stacie was begging me not to go. If I had it to do over again, I’d listen to her. I’d stay home and watch a stupid scary movie with Toast curled around my neck like a travel pillow.
My heart squeezes and all I want to do is go home and hug my cat.
Gotta start the car for that.
I give myself a reassuring nod and take a deep breath so I can let it out. The sooner I get out of here, the better.
I check the rearview mirror, half-afraid I’ll see Killian standing there, wanting to know what the hell I’m doing. But thankfully, I see no one, so I fire up the engine.
I feel slightly calmer once I’m out of the parking garage, but a new chapter of terror hits me when I see headlights in the rearview, someone riding my ass when there’s no one on the road.
Oh no.
What if it’s them? What if they’ve been lying in wait like hunters in a blind, and I’ve grand-theft-autoed myself right between their crosshairs?
Have I made a huge mistake?
My heart pounds and my palms feel sweaty. I can’t even call for help because I don’t have a phone. I’m not far from Killian’s, but I can’t turn around now. He’s asleep in his apartment and if they are following me, they’ll just continue to follow me into the parking garage and get me alone.
Crap.
On impulse, I hit my turn signal and tap the brake so I can turn right on whatever road this is.
I watch my rearview mirror and can finally breathe again when the car doesn’t turn with me.
Phew.
Now I just have to figure out where the hell I am.
It takes a bit of driving around and taking random turns in the logical directions, but eventually I find an area that’s familiar to me.
It’s near sorority row. I recognize the bakery on the corner where I fantasized about spending lazy Saturday afternoons sipping French roast and enjoying one of their delicious chocolate chip muffins while I worked on a paper.
That was if I got into one of the sororities I wanted to rush, but I didn’t.
Part of me wanted to make it for the experience and the connections, and the other half desperately wanted to get in since it would be cheaper to live in a shared bedroom at the sorority house than to split an apartment with a roommate.
Unfortunately, they were looking more for a stylish “scientist Barbie” than an actual aspiring molecular biologist.
Don’t get me wrong, I like cute clothes and garden parties, and I’d wear the hell out of those pastel dresses they seemed to like, but I think there was a disconnect in the images we project. The sorority sister who got roped into talking to me for more than a smile and a hello at the top house didn’t say so, but I’m pretty sure I was disqualified based on my social media presence alone.
That’s okay, it all worked out.
I do miss my fantasy Saturdays, though. I’m convinced they would have been great.
Thinking about that gets my mind off the frat guys who may want to murder me, and before I know it, I’m approaching my apartment building.
I’m getting really tired now that I’m this close to my own bed, too.
All that’s happened tonight flashes to mind like the first scene on a highlight reel, but I don’t have the capacity to process all of it, so I don’t try.
My building doesn’t have a parking garage, just a lot with too few spots for all the people that live here. As late as it is, there aren’t any left, and I feel guilty when I have to drive back around and park on the street. Killian has a nice car and I’ll feel terrible if anything happens to it.