Chapter Two
The shrill screech blared on, no matter how long Kris tugged her pillow over her head. Groaning, she rolled to one side, her eyes reluctantly flickering open to acknowledge the time.
It took a moment for the digits to register, and then another before she remembered why they were so significant.
“Shit!” Sitting bolt upright, she rolled her neck and stretched her back as the grim realization dawned. “I have to be on campus.”
Sliding her feet from the warmth of her covers, she searched her bedside counter for water but found no evidence of a drink. Jesus, how drunk had she been to have come to bed and not even brought a glass of water with her?
The question rattled in her head as she rose wearily to her full height and glanced at herself in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It had been fun to go out with Cindy and Liz the evening before, but deep down, she knew she’d mainly been trying to drink away her blues.
Shaun still hadn’t replied to any of her flirty missives, and despite how well-attended the bars had been, there hadn’t been anyone who’d even vaguely appealed as a substitute.
“I just have to accept that I’m destined to be single.”
Walking to her dresser, she grabbed her hairbrush and dragged the bristles through her unruly mane.
If she’d woken earlier, she would have showered and tamed her tresses before her first lecture, but as it was, there was no time.
As well as having no man in her life, she’d also have to accept greasy, lank hair.
Fabulous.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed in her favorite low-rise jeans and an oversized hoodie. Tugging her hair into a messy ponytail, she wandered over to where her purse had been abandoned, wondering for the first time since she’d awoken where her phone was.
That was unusual.
Normally, the device was the first thing she reached for when she opened her eyes, but in the haze of her dehydration and knowing she was short on time, she hadn’t considered her phone until that moment.
Hopefully, in the drunken frenzy of the night before, she’d at least had the good sense to charge it before she collapsed into bed.
Her gaze darting to the place she kept it overnight, Kris was pleased to see that she had, in fact, had the foresight to charge the device, and moving toward it, she yanked the wire free.
“I don’t suppose that moron, Shaun, has replied yet,” she complained, using her fingerprint to log her into her account.
Her gaze flitted to the recent notifications, her heart missing a beat, as she had several new messages. “Maybe Shaun loves me after all.”
She laughed at the idea but couldn’t deny the fizz of excitement that the prospect elicited in her tummy.
She was young, intelligent, and reasonably attractive. Was a little male attention too much to ask for? She hoped the swine had replied, if for no other reason than so she could protract his misery before replying, but the fact she yearned for his focus still gnawed at her.
She was a capable woman. What should it matter what one lousy guy thought of her? She blew out a breath as she mused on the conundrum. Her head said she shouldn’t care, yet no matter how hard she tried, her heart craved the companionship.
And the sex.
She bit back on her grin as she imagined tumbling between the sheets with Shaun. She hadn’t yet experienced the pleasure, but the recent evening they’d spent together had seen them do everything but the dirty deed. Maybe his latest missive would be the first step toward tasting that final treat.
Finding her bag, she skimmed through the contents to ensure she had what she needed for her lectures before flicking into her messages. There, where Shaun’s groveling replies should have been, were two messages from a number she didn’t recognize.
Heart pounding, she opened the first.
Well, good morning.
That was quite a statement, Kristina.
Her throat dried as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. How could someone from a number she didn’t recognize know what her name was?
I would ask what your problem was,
But there’s really no need,
We both know his name, don’t we?
S.H.A.U.N.
Her head clouded with confusion.
Whoever it was couldn’t have known about him. Only her closest friends knew her true feelings about Shaun, and neither of them would be so cruel as to prank her that way.
Her hand trembled as she flicked into the second message, her pulse picking up its already elevated pace as she consumed the content.
I don’t mind being your sounding board,
But if you ever send me such a rude message again,
Then we’re going to have a problem.
Dread collected in the pit of her stomach, furling into a curling spiral of fear. Somehow, the stranger knew her name and who she’d been dating, and she couldn’t get past the undercurrent of menace in their tone.
‘We’re going to have a problem.’
Her already parched throat dried as she re-read the final line. That was definitely a threat, implying that she was going to be the one with the ‘problem’.
“What the hell?”
What could she have written to provoke such an intimidating reply from someone she didn’t even know?
“Oh my God.” She rubbed at her temples, her feet already retreating in the direction of her unmade bed as she devoured her original message. “Tell me I didn’t send this.”
Yet, as her calves hit the side of the bed and she collapsed down on it, a vague recollection of standing in the bathroom with her phone before she’d come to bed burst into her mind.
She’d been drunk, angry with Shaun, and at herself for being so needy.
In that emotional headspace, she’d found the flier she’d taken from the graduate noticeboard, and the rest was history.
“Oh, God.”
She gazed past her half-closed curtains and out at the rain falling beyond the glass. Whatever frustrated ire should have been directed at Shaun had ended up in the stranger’s inbox.
Oh, Kris. Her stomach cramped as she scanned her original message once more. What did you do?
She wasn’t proud of what she’d sent the stranger, but equally, she didn’t appreciate the timbre of their response.
Whoever he was, threatening her and leaving her feeling strangely vulnerable was simply not okay.
Sitting there, she realized that was how she felt; helpless in the face of his criticism.
“Maybe he had it coming,” she mumbled, recalling how much his leaflet had pissed her off.
His response certainly suggested that he did. Sure, she’d been wrong to be so curt in her reply. Maybe she’d been wrong to reply at all, but she hadn’t deserved such an unnerving reaction. The world was a dangerous enough place for a woman without receiving threats in her inbox.
The leaflet’s vocabulary had definitely hit a nerve, suggesting not only that she was to blame for her ‘relationship woes’ but also that whoever had placed the flier there could remedy her problems. Its arrogant tone had riled her, but not half as much as its owner’s reply had prompted.
Forcing herself to re-read her original message, she cringed at her crude choice of language. If only she’d just ignored the leaflet and gone straight to bed…
Hey, asshole,
I am having relationship problems, but it turns out, I’m not the problem, he is!
By the way, if you actually wanna help people, how about being less of a judgmental prick in the future?
She’d been an idiot to send the message, but that still didn’t justify the threat she’d received. Nothing she’d done excused that. Not that she knew who’d sent the message. Whoever had responded hadn’t sent their name.
“Crap.” Shaking her head, she rubbed her eyes and stared at her screen.
Whether she liked the reply or not, she had been the one in the wrong first, so that meant she should be the one to apologize.
Her toes curled in her fluffy socks as she quickly penned the message, her every instinct telling her to delete the entire exchange and move on, but somehow, she couldn’t. If nothing else, Kristina considered herself to be a good person, and that meant taking responsibility when she’d fucked up.
My message was rude. I’m sorry.
I don’t appreciate your response, but don’t worry.
You won’t hear from me again.
Scanning her effort, she swallowed down her doubt and hit send before hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. She had less than five minutes before she needed to leave for her first lecture, and she still needed to brush her teeth and grab a glass of water.
Ten minutes later, she’d donned her jacket and was just rushing out of the door when the flaw in her plan to forget the entire sorry incident struck her again.
How had the responder known her name when her original missive hadn’t offered it? And even more bizarrely, how had they known about Shaun?
Dodging a woman with a pram as she hurried along the street, she frowned, yanking her phone out of her pocket as soon as she arrived at the bus stop.
She had to look at those messages again, had to make sure she wasn’t imagining the unexplainable idea that a stranger could have known not only her name, but that of the beau who had clearly lost interest in her.
Devouring the first as the bus pulled up, an unsettling feeling expanded in her stomach. Whoever had sent the message had definitely used her full name.
No one called her Kristina, except her mother, and even she opted to use ‘Kris’ when they chatted.
“Morning.” The bus driver nodded as she stepped on board.
“Campus, please.” She forced a smile, waving her phone to pay for her ticket before she slid into the nearest seat.
Panic was stirring in her, rising in small yet potent waves and making it difficult to think. Or perhaps that was her encroaching hangover. Either way, she couldn’t make sense of what had happened.
In the end, she chose to focus on her morning lectures, and using what was left of her willpower, she forced the phone back into her pocket.
She’d ask Cindy what she made of the whole thing once the morning lessons were over.
Maybe her friend would be able to shine a new light on what had happened.
But even if she couldn’t, at least she could help Kris commiserate.
Staring out of the filthy bus window, she sighed. She’d never have sent the initial message if she hadn’t had so much to drink. Somehow, Kris always took things too far, and—
For the second time that morning, her thoughts were cut short by her phone. That time, the vibration alert coming from her pocket indicated she had a new message.
It’s probably Liz, she told herself as she reached for the device. I bet she’s hungover and running late.
Yet as her fingers grazed over the screen, she already knew better.
The uneasy knot of anxiety in her belly conveyed that she knew who’d replied, and it wasn’t Cindy or Liz.
Pulling in a deep breath, she unlocked the device and glanced at the latest notification, her blood running cold when she recognized the new message was from the same unknown number as before.
With shaky fingers, she clicked to read its content.