Chapter 10
Clara
Icatch glimpses of RJ and Walker throughout the week, but I have nothing to give them, mainly because I don’t have any pencils or paper that aren’t reviewed and removed from my room regularly.
I dropped one under the bed, just to see what they’d do, and poor Mary had counted the sheets of paper, then crawled under the bed to get the missing one.
It’s bonkers.
And the need to get a message out weighs heavy, as Trips’ continued absence is a hole that threatens to suck my brain into an anxious spiral, all the skills Maria taught me barely keeping me together. It’s time to take a risk. And Thursday is my last chance this week.
I run through my plan the whole way to school, and once I’m there, I set it in motion. Bumping into a guy just inside the door of my classroom, I apologize as I step away, grabbing his phone and slipping it into my bag. A risk, but worth it.
Luckily, the guy is this class’s social butterfly, so he continues to chat with his friends while I take the long way to my seat.
Once I’m almost there, I trip on the stair, falling face-first into the girl in front of me, dumping all of her stuff across the floor.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I bark, diving to the floor to help her pick everything up, whispering to the voice assistant to set an alarm to go off three-quarters of the way through class under the cover of the chaos.
Then I slip the phone in with her wallet.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going. I can’t believe I just did that,” I mutter, my guard grumbling at my back.
Sliding into my seat next to Jonah feels like sitting on a bomb that’s about to go off, and all I want to do is run, or tap out my nerves against my thigh, but instead, I receive my class-time allotted notebook from my guard, my breath coming a little too quickly. I hope he assumes it’s embarrassment.
Luckily, today’s guard doesn’t seem to care, leaning against the wall, his phone in hand, obviously bored even before the lecture. He has no vigilance whatsoever, and I wonder how he decided I’m harmless when I shot another guard point blank, no emotion showing on my face, just over a week ago.
It’s obvious he doesn’t view me as a threat. He’s a fool.
I hated Smith, and while I can’t say I’m happy I killed him, I can say I’m happy he’s not my guard anymore. But if that awful man had one thing going for him, he was at least good at his job. This guy won’t last long with Trips’ dad as his boss. He’s not the sort of man to suffer fools.
Jonah and I chat about a concert he and his girlfriend went to over the weekend until class starts, and I stuff down a wave of sadness, remembering the concert Jansen and I went to last winter, watching Evie’s band play.
Which of course reminds me of us fucking in the bathroom, both of us confessing our love while angry bar patrons waited outside.
I’m positive I’m blushing as I flip to a clean page, zoning out as the professor essentially recaps what the book said, and scrawl out a reply to RJ’s note.
It takes nearly as long as I have, the code not as quick as writing in English.
But I get it done about three minutes before the alarm.
Which gives me nothing to do but pretend I’m taking notes.
I’m going to be totally fine in an intro-level marketing class without paying attention.
And even if I’m not, what’s the point? I’m not going into the FBI—the thought is laughable.
Either I’m working with the guys, in which case my grade in class is meaningless, or I’m married to Trips and stuck as a baby maker for his father until fate forces him to let go of the reins, in which case, once again, class is meaningless.
It’d be a freeing realization if I weren’t currently buried under the weight of silent, unanswered worries about everyone I love.
I hold my breath when the classroom clock hits the correct time, but it takes nearly another minute for the phone to match the clock, the consistent chirp leading to one student, then another digging through their bags, confused chuckles filling the room the longer the alarm goes off.
“Can someone please turn that off?” the professor asks, and the chaos picks up.
Once it reaches the point of awkward mayhem, my guard occupied by what appears to be a ‘look at these idiots’ internal monologue, all rolled eyes and huffy breaths, I tug the note from my notebook, fold it quickly, and pass it to Jonah. “You know where Trips lives, right?”
He glances at me, then down at the note. “Yeah, but—”
“Bring this there. Give it to RJ or Walker. Please?” I flick my eyes to the guard so he gets the picture, just as the girl finds the phone in her purse. But it’s not settled yet—they still have to figure out whose phone it is.
“I guess I’m a regular James Bond,” he says, a grin in the corner of his mouth.
“Sure,” I tease. He chuckles as the social butterfly crosses the room to get his phone, his confusion obvious.
Class finishes with no more excitement, and as I leave, I meet Walker’s eyes across the atrium.
Seeing him but not touching him makes me want to weep, the loneliness a living beast walking beside me.
I wish for a second that I’d held onto the note, just for an excuse for the warmth of his skin against mine.
But my guard stares at him, his brow scrunched like he’s trying to place Walker’s face, and I’m grateful I chose to deliver the note the way I did.
When Walker tilts his head, asking if I have a drop, I give him a small shake of my chin, telling him no.
My current guard might suck, but the more times the guys find excuses to bump into me, the more likely it is the guards will recognize them. It looks as though we’re reaching that point.
Being separate from them is torture, but so is a future chosen by a devil of a man. One where I’m a broodmare and the men I love are either jailed or locked up with me.
So as the sharp fall wind tugs my hair free of my ponytail, I take another breath and try to work out how to do what I do best—distract and charm.
There’s no other path available right now, even if I’d planned on having Trips as my foil.
I’ve got to get a despicable human to see me as a sweet girl in over her head, as nothing more than what his file folder says I am.
My next step is as simple as it is horrific: I’ve got to get Trips’ dad to like me.