Chapter 24
LYRA
Ididn’t hear a single word my English Lit professor said, but I got those valuable participation points for attending class. Something I’d failed to do for a while. And my grades had started to reflect it.
I’d woken up early after tossing and turning all night after my fight with Grey.
“Don’t forget midterms are coming up. Start studying now because it will test you on all the material we’ve covered so far this semester. The study guide can be found online,” the professor hollered, trying to be heard over the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling papers.
My phone buzzed, and I gripped it tightly, hoping to see Grey’s name scroll across my screen.
Kenna: Did you just get out of English Lit? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Getting food in the quad if you want to join.
Disappointment leaked from my fractured heart. A small part of me thought it was going to be Grey apologizing and begging for forgiveness.
A girl could dream, right?
I sent a quick text back.
Me: Yes, I’m starving. See you in five.
My English Lit class was in the center of campus, a two-minute power walk from the quad. The large grassy hills were overrun with students and faculty members enjoying the unusually warm fall day.
“Heads up!” someone hollered to my left.
I ducked, covering my head as a football soared past, inches from my face.
The ball bounced, coming to rest by a group of girls studying on a blanket.
A scrawny freshman boy ran over, uttering a half-hearted apology, and chucked the ball at his friends with zero regard for anyone else around them.
I did a quick once-over of the tables in the middle of the quad and spotted Kenna talking to a girl with long blonde hair. She saw me at the same time and waved me over, making room beside her. “Lyra, you remember Maura, right?”
“Yes, good to see you again.” I smiled, dropping my backpack to the ground and slumping into the seat next to Kenna. Maura had gone to high school with us and was one of the popular girls.
My stomach growled at the ham and cheese sandwich sitting on the table. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. My stomach rumbled louder as if to tell me it couldn’t remember, either.
“Here, take it.” Kenna slid the sandwich over to me. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach, and I can hear yours from over here.”
“Thanks,” I said around a mouthful. Crumbs fell all over my shirt and lap.
My phone buzzed.
Grey: Found something important. Get here now.
The asshole couldn’t even manage a please or thank you. I turned my phone over on the table and continued to eat my sandwich. The bastard could wait. Especially after how things ended last night. I was not going to just run right back to him.
My phone vibrated again and again, shaking the entire table.
Persistent prick.
“You need to get that?” Kenna asked, eyeing my phone.
“Nope,” I said cheerfully, turning it off and dropping it into my backpack.
The two girls shared a look, but neither pressed the issue.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“A group of us are going downtown to the bars tonight if you guys wanna join?” Maura offered.
I nodded enthusiastically.
“Count us in.” I deserved a night with no spirits, no death, and most importantly no demons.
It was almost midnight, and all I wanted was a slice of pizza, but instead, I was trying to suck down my fifth cranberry vodka.
“Those very nice guys over there bought us these,” Kenna shouted over the music, pointing toward a rowdy group of guys.
Clear liquid filled the glass, and I cringed as she shoved one into my hand.
A platinum blonde girl whose name I’d already forgotten raised her shot in the air, and we all followed suit before downing the contents.
Oh god, it was gin. Who the fuck buys someone a shot of gin?
I gagged, and my eyes watered. I clamped my hand over my mouth in case the contents of my stomach decided to evacuate.
Everyone else seemed to have a similar experience.
The girl next to me dry heaved but managed to keep from yakking all over the floor.
I moved backward, out of the splash zone, just in case.
I took a long sip of my drink, trying to wash away the rancid taste lingering on my tongue. I had come to the bars to forget about Grey, and yet all I could think about was him. My phone stayed glued to my hand, and I kept checking it for a text or call that never came.
Maybe the reception in the bar was bad.
I stepped outside, and the autumn night air pricked at my exposed skin, a stark contrast to the weather this afternoon.
No missed calls or new text messages.
My finger hovered over Grey’s name, and I accidentally hit the call button. It rang three times before a gruff voice on the other end picked up.
“Yeah?” Grey answered.
Music filtered out of the bar as the group of guys who bought us the round of shots walked out. They hollered, and one actually howled at the moon.
“Well, hello to you, too.” My words slurred together.
“Where are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, that’s why I fucking asked.” Irritation filled his tone. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe just a tiny-weenie-little-bit.” I gestured with my thumb and pointer finger before remembering we were talking on the phone.
One of the guys from the group leaned over. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you have a lighter by chance?”
I removed the phone from my ear as I rummaged through my purse, passing him one from the bottom of my bag.
I’d thrown it in there after the events of the gala, along with a few other items that might be useful: chalk, if I needed to draw a hell’s trap, a lighter, and a vial of holy water. You could never be too safe.
“Thank you so much.” He held the lighter above his head, jumping up and down. “Benny, I found one! You don’t have to throw yourself off a building, now!”
“Lyra,” Grey growled.
Oops, forgot I was still on the phone.
“Sorry, I got to go,” I said, ending the call. My heart hammered from hearing his voice. Drunk dialing Grey was a lapse of judgment. A stupid mistake. I stuffed my phone back into my purse and walked back into the bar.
“Don’t forget this!” The guy ran up to me with my lighter, readjusting his backward baseball hat. “I owe you one.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to repay me.” The words were laced with confidence thanks to all the liquid courage I’d drank tonight.
Music roared from the speakers as I stepped back inside, making it impossible to hear anything.
I leaned over the bar to scream my order.
“One whiskey ginger,” I hollered, holding up my pointer finger in case she couldn’t understand me.
But bartenders must have supersonic hearing because they always seemed to get your order right.
“Make that two,” a husky voice said behind me.
The cute guy from outside had followed me in.