Chapter 12 Reverie
REVERIE
“I…”
—do not have confidence in him keeping me safe whatsoever, but I’m so goddamn relieved he’s not Dread or Lionel, I could kiss the man.
With his shorter stature, freckled baby face, and gelled-back red-orange hair, he’s not exactly someone I’d go for.
But if it’s widely accepted that sex can make you do or say crazy shit in the heat of the moment, then I’m pretty sure not coming face to face with a bully or a serial killer can be as well.
“I would love that,” I finish breathlessly. “Yes, please, let’s go.”
His answering smile is both confused and pleased as I quickly usher him out of my room and lock the door behind me.
Not that it really matters when, evidently, it does fuck all to keep predators out of it.
I send a quick text to Sable letting her know I'm with the officer and he's taking me to a hotel now, so I’m safe… ish. I don’t say the last part, though. She’s got enough to worry about with Rogue there.
“Didn’t pack a bag?” Officer Nichols questions, pulling my attention back to him.
He nods down at my hands before we turn and head down the hallway. At least this time, I’m not being dragged out in handcuffs while the entire hall watches.
“No time. But would you mind just driving me to a hotel? My friend is out of town tonight,” I lie, hoping like hell he doesn’t call Barry to confirm that.
He frowns, concern creasing between his sparse brows. “Well, I don’t think that’s safe, ma’am. Too many entrance points for the Locksmith. Is there no one else you can stay with?”
My right eye twitches, irritated he refers to Lionel by his moniker rather than his actual name. I wish people would reduce him to the simple man he is, rather than the infamous serial killer people are undoubtedly fascinated with.
“There really isn't,” I say, my smile somewhere between sheepish and a grimace.
He hums, twisting his lips as he contemplates my request. I mean, honestly, I’m not giving him much choice. Where else could he possibly take me but his own house?
And while I could kiss the man, I sure as fuck won’t be going home with him.
“I suppose I can post up outside your door for the night instead,” he relents, the corners of his lips curling down.
He’s not pleased, but I can’t exactly blame him.
At least at Sable's house, he would've gotten to park outside and keep watch from his car. Now, he'll have to actually sit outside my door. He’s trading a cushiony driver’s seat that reclines for a likely very uncomfortable chair offered by the hotel.
I feel terrible, but not enough to change my mind. If keeping Sable off my father’s radar means giving a cop back pain for a night, then he can go find a goddamn chiropractor.
This time, my smile is grateful. “I really do appreciate it. I admittedly don’t have many friends here, so—” I shrug, letting the unspoken implication hang. You don’t really have a choice.
His displeasure quickly morphs into a boyish grin that instantly makes me feel awkward, sensing what’s coming before it happens.
“Anything for the pretty lady.” He winks and then bites his lower lip, bobbling his head a little, like he just delivered the smoothest line known to man.
Oh, dear God.
Just put me down like a dog with rabies.
I’m so fucking over men tonight.
I’m grimacing my way through another smile and averting my attention to the main entrance right as we approach it. He opens the door for me, the rush of freezing air cooling my flushed cheeks.
It’s a lovely reminder I probably look like a goddamn wreck. Between the panic attack and the sobbing that likely turned my eyes bloodshot, I can only imagine what a beauty queen I am right now.
And the fact that the cop decided now was the best time to flirt with me only deepens my dislike for men.
What positive biological impact do they have on this planet again?
It’s truly hard to remember these days.
Just as I take the first step, a loud, blaring alarm rings out, nearly sending my heart straight out of my asshole. Officer Nichols shouts, jumping back with a hand over his heart.
The fire alarm.
Someone pulled the goddamn fire alarm.
Doors bang open a second later from both the first and second floor, students pouring out from their rooms into the hallways, shouting and screaming while trying to figure out where the fire is.
But I know damn well there’s no fucking fire.
Lionel or Dread?
My heart pounds as Nichols and I look at one another with wide eyes. I don’t know if he’s thinking what I’m thinking, but regardless, we need to get the fuck out of here.
“Holy fuck,” he shouts, turning back around. “Did you smell smoke? I didn’t smell anything!”
He doesn’t wait for my response, already speed walking away and disappearing around the corner into the hallway.
“Everyone calm down!” Nichols shouts. “I’m a police officer here to keep you safe! Let’s all file out of the building, single file!”
Oh my God.
What… a fucking idiot.
If I make it out of this, I need to have a serious talk with Barry about sending just any random goddamn officer.
I spin around and hurriedly rush down the wooden steps, adrenaline and fear swirling in my gut. More than a dozen women are already on the bottom floor, running toward the front doors in a panic.
I glance behind me to see the girls from upstairs rushing down the steps behind me, definitely not in a single file line.
We all spill out into the freezing cold air, instantly inundated with chills. Thankfully, I already have my coat, but a lot of the girls are still only in their pajamas.
I hear Nichols shouting somewhere near the main entrance, attempting to get a handle on a bunch of panicking women who all want to know if there’s a fire and where it is.
There isn’t even a hint of smoke coming from the building.
The parking lot is straight ahead, and from what I can see, there doesn’t seem to be a single soul in sight. I can either wait it out with the crowd and call an Uber or just run to my car and take off.
Don’t be fucking stupid.
There’s a single lamp in the parking lot, which means it looks as dark and uninviting as anyone could imagine.
I’d be alone in the lot with at least twenty cars, where there are ample places for someone to hide.
Living with a serial killer was all the training I needed in life to know better than to put myself in a situation like that.
“Not gonna catch me fucking slipping,” I mutter to myself, my teeth chattering as I glance around the crowd.
It’s quickly become clear to everyone by now that there’s no fire, but apparently, we’re not allowed back in until the fire department confirms it.
Sirens blare in the distance, growing louder and louder as they approach, and I think I hear someone say the residence life director is on their way, too.
Anxiety swirls in my stomach, and I’m vibrating with the need to get away from here.
Who the fuck knows if Nichols is still escorting me, but truthfully, I don’t want him to anymore. The man has no fucking brains, and I don’t think I’d be in any less danger with him.
I’ll just call a goddamn Uber.
I slip my phone out from my pocket, my shivering worsening as I order a car to come pick me up. One is only two minutes away, thankfully.
Once they’re here, I’ll just bolt to the car. By then, the police and fire truck should be here, too, and with them around, hopefully, there won’t be any opportunity for anyone to take me.
But they could follow you.
I’ll call Barry in the Uber and let him know Nichols is a dud. Maybe he can send someone else to meet me at a hotel. He’ll know I’m not going to Sable’s, but I don’t care. He’ll have to get over it—I refuse to lead a serial killer to my best friend’s house.
Not that she’s even home, anyway.
God, Rogue is still there.
I pull out my phone again and send Sable a text, demanding she check in. I know she can handle him, and even though Rogue is an asshole, I don't think he'd physically hurt her. Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better that he’s there harassing her.
I roll my eyes to the sky and exhale heavily, my breath billowing from my mouth in a dense cloud. My bones rattle with impatience and restlessness, and I’m growing irritated with how long it takes for two goddamn minutes to pass.
My phone buzzes, notifying me that my driver is here, and I let out a relieved sigh.
Seconds later, four police cars and a fire truck spill into the parking lot.
I can’t see the driver’s car among all the others, but with the flashing lights, it makes the parking lot feel a lot less empty and unsafe.
Fuck it.
I take off running toward the parking lot, glancing at my phone to check exactly where my driver’s waiting.
It looks like they stayed at the entrance, which is in the back left corner of the lot, forcing me to walk through three rows of cars.
I weave between the vehicles, passing by firefighters and officers heading toward the dorm.
I breathe a little easier when I see a few policemen still lingering around their cars straight ahead.
I’m not alone, and that lifts a heavy weight off my chest.
I spot my driver at the end of the first row. I confirm their model and license plate before heading toward the passenger door.
But before I can round the car, the driver’s door opens, and a blonde woman with a short bob steps out. She appears to be in her fifties, with deep wrinkles around her eyes, mouth, and down her neck.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, glancing around nervously. “I thought for a second I was getting pulled over.”
“Yeah, someone pulled the fire alarm, that’s all,” I assure, waving a hand dismissively.
She nods, her stare pinned past my shoulder, landing on my dorm building.
“Are you ready?” I ask, watching as the remaining officers head toward the dorm, leaving the two of us alone. My heart pumps faster, and anxiety worsens.
“No one got hurt, right?” she asks instead, pointing past me.
“Nope!” I chirp. “Can we go, please?”