Chapter 7 Annie #2
Working in his real estate firm would have been a stable income, but was it the life I was meant to live? Nope.
I figured if Dad is sick or in some kind of trouble, sending me off to school was his way of giving me the chance to have more.
I brush my teeth and shake out my hair, then run the water for a bath. I climb in and let myself soak, draining the entire hotel-issued plastic container of shower gel into the running water. The gel bubbles up nicely, and I lie back in the tub until my hair mermaids around me.
I close my eyes and think of my mother. My father. School. I can’t figure any of it out. Not tonight.
I turn on the water and scrub my hair with the hotel shampoo and wish I’d thought to unpack my own conditioner to work through my long strands, but that’s fine. This isn’t about anything more than washing the grime and sweat and fear of the day away.
I climb out of the bathtub when I hear the text alert on my phone chime. I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and pad barefoot to the bed where I left my phone.
I grin when I see the message.
Neveah: Hey, girl. Checking in on you.
I’ll text her back once I’m settled in bed, and we’ll have a good chat. I head back to the bathroom and massage lotion into my legs and arms, then slip into my shorts and the button-down cotton top covered with cupcakes that I brought to sleep in.
I brush out my wet hair and put a towel over my shoulders to catch the spare drips because there is no way I’m blow-drying this mess right now.
I want to stretch out on the fluffy bed and text the one friend who already knows I’ve had a shit day.
I won’t have to relive it and can just shoot the shit with her.
Before I even make it back to my bed, my phone’s pinging again. I crawl across the smooth white duvet and lean back against a mountain of pillows. I’m feeling more relaxed, and I’m hopeful that I can actually get some good sleep tonight.
I swipe the touchscreen and see I have another message from Neveah.
Annie Hannie, where you at? I just came down to your room to check on you, but you didn’t answer. You home with your dad?
I type a yawn face emoji and then a message.
So wiped, but I’m hoping to get some good sleep tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow to start cleaning up. How’s your commission coming?
We text a little about the project she’s been working on for the commission June referred her for, when Neveah asks again.
Girl, where you spending the night? With that Josh guy? Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me you had somebody so hot?
I grin and send back a flame emoji.
He is hot, isn’t he? I reply.
Smokin’, she says.
That’s all that comes through for a minute, and I’m about to text her another question about her commission.
And really, I want to pick her brain about how she figured out what her message was going to be, what kind of statement her art was going to make, but another text comes through before I finish typing.
Annie, I think you should come back to campus. If you’re worried, you can crash for the night in my room. I’d feel better knowing where you are. That you’re safe.
I’m safe, I text back. Pinkie promise. I’ll be back tomorrow. Needed a break from the mess and all the weirdness.
I’m starting to get a strange vibe, but I can’t exactly explain why. She’s asked a bunch of times where I am, and while I would expect a friend to be worried, it’s also pretty clear that I’m not going to say where I’m staying tonight.
I’m not sure why Neveah keeps asking. She’s my RA, so when I’m on campus, I’m technically her responsibility, but not really.
She’s more like a floor counselor or guide than anything.
And I’m an adult student. It’s not like I can’t spend every night off campus with my boyfriend if I choose.
Even if that’s not where I am, that’s where I hope Neveah thinks I am.
Will you at least tell me this Josh guy’s last name? And let me know for sure you’re with him? I’m worried, girl. The mess in your room isn’t cool. Even if it was just a shitty prank, I want to know my girl’s safe.
Something about her asking for Josh’s last name sets my teeth on edge. I get up from the bed and peek out into the parking lot. Nothing seems any different. Everything is dark.
I’m safe, I text back. Going to crash. Catch up on campus tomorrow.
I’m still holding the phone when it rings. The caller ID says it’s Neveah.
All I can think about is what Josh said today. Whoever is sending these letters has access to me. Close access. They would blend in, and I’d never even suspect they’d stolen my keys.
It can’t be her, I think. She can’t have anything to do with what’s going on. She’s my friend. Isn’t she?
I’m getting paranoid, but who the hell could blame me?
My heart starts banging in my chest, and I realize that if someone has a tracker on my car, maybe there could be some way to track me using my phone too. I don’t know. I’m a freaking artist not a PI. I wonder for a minute if I should text Josh and ask him. Is it safe to answer the phone?
I don’t really know Neveah. Not any better than I know anyone else at school. But why would she call me when I said I was wiped and going to bed?
Maybe she was trying to be a good friend. Maybe she was trying to be a supportive RA.
All I know is that right now, the only person I trust in the world is Josh.
My hand starts to shake so hard I drop the phone, and it hits the hotel carpet.
“Shit.” I pick it up and flip the ringer to silent.
I plug my phone into the charger, and once the call goes to voice mail, I turn the ringer back on. Neveah doesn’t leave a message, but she doesn’t call back or text again. I sit awake on the bed, worrying myself into a throbbing headache until my hair is dry.
By the time midnight rolls around, my eyes are burning, my hair is a rumpled mess, and I have made a nest of pillows around me in the king-sized bed.
I close my eyes and imagine Josh’s arms around me. That brings me some comfort and a little more than some throbbing between my legs, but I leave the lights on.
There’s no chance I’m getting much sleep tonight.