Page 12 of The Wallflower

I nod, considering her tone, and head toward the door. "You don't have to wait for me. I'll let myself out when I'm done."

Is Maybel really excited about it, or not? Jackie’s tone makes me believe otherwise. Her eyes skim down the length of my body, and I swear I see an inkling of suspicion bloom in her gaze, but as soon as it appears, it’s gone. Instead of questioning, she nods, grabs her wine, and heads into her room.Perfect.

Taking the doorknob into my hand, I twist it and push it open. I step inside and am greeted with a unique, sweet scent. Sugary sweet. One I hadn’t caught over the musty scent in the library. My eyes dart around the room, absorbing every little detail.

It’s perfect, each item in its place. I grab the back of her black office chair and take a seat. It squeaks beneath my weight, and I push toward her desk. There’s a bag sitting on top, and it only takes a second to fish out her laptop, open it, and pull the tiny flash drive I brought with me out of my pocket. I plug it into the machine and then text Lee. It takes him seconds to get back to me, so his little date must be gone.

I’m in. She's all yours.

His text comes back.

I wait for the software to load onto my phone, then watch as the view from her computer camera mirrors my phone screen. She won’t be able to hide a single thing from me. "All mine," I say to myself. "I can't wait until she figures it out.”

Once I finish, I put the computer away and leave the black envelope on her desk, a red ribbon wound tightly around the matte paper. I give her room one more glance and leave before I give in to the urge to stay and inspect every inch between these four walls. No, we're going to do things the proper way, and the first step is always…

The Hunt

CHAPTER 4

BEL

It seemsthe only person not willing to admit my mother is sick is the woman herself. I spent the night and most of the day there, helping her around the house and trying to convince her to see a doctor.

She can't do her own grocery shopping at the moment and can't go to work, yet she keeps insisting it's just a bug, a flu, and it'll pass.

We've both seen this before, and I understand her not wanting to face the facts, but I'm exhausted and heartsick.

I'm brushing away tears as I enter my suite on campus. It does feel good to be by myself for a moment or at least be able to go into my own room and worry about something else for a bit.

My roommate jumps up and rushes out of her room the second I shut the door behind me. "Where the hell have you been? We're going to be late."

She's got her hair in rollers, and her makeup is already in place.

I tip my chin toward her. "If this thing is supposed to be a hunt, aren't you worried about your face melting off by the end?"

She smiles. “Hell no, I have a bulletproof setting spray. Now get in there and get ready."

My shoulders fall away from my ears, dragging me down. I no longer have the strength to stay upright. "I don't know, Jack. I'm pretty tired. I should probably stay home."

She narrows her eyes and starts tugging pins out of her hair. "Um...excuse me...did you forget about the twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize you want to nail down?"

I head into my room, dropping my overnight bag on the floor and throwing myself back onto the bed. "I may need that money, but what are the odds I'll actually win it? I'm probably just kidding myself."

Something on my desk catches my eye. I lift my head to stare at it, then scoot off the end of the bed to pick up the black envelope, wound with a red ribbon. "What the fuck?"

I rip open the thick, rich paper and spread a cardstock invitation. The details are pretty sparse, only an address and a time. At the bottom is a scribbled note requesting I wear the envelope's ribbon.

Fuckinghell. I have no doubt it's that asshole jock who is asking this from me, and…fuck him. I'm not about to hand myself up on a platter for him to toy with.

I toss the invitation and the ribbon on the desk and sigh. Even if there’s only a slim chance of winning the prize, I have to try. For my mother. Or else I’ll never be able to say I tried everything.

Instead of climbing back into bed and staying there for a year, I go to my closet and pull out some clothing. "Jack, what do I wear to this damn thing?"

She comes flouncing in, brushing her curls with her fingers. "Um...something you move in easily, and something dark to make it harder to see you, if that's what you want." She winks and readjusts her boobs inside her neon pink minidress.

I pick up a slinky black dress, with pockets of course, and lay it out with some fresh underwear. I need a hot shower first. Maybe it'll get me in the mood to go out.

News flash:I'm almost more exhausted after the shower. This is stupid. I'm going to end up lost and walking around in circles. The only thing I'm coming home with is fucking poison ivy.