CHAPTER TWENTY
Evie
“Hey,” I said, coming back to my dorm room, the door shutting behind me.
Cara grunted, barely looking up, her mousy brown head buried in another book of Harry Potter fan fiction. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Harry Potter but I’m not so crazy as to be reading offshoots of the main story, made-up adventures about minor characters who attended Hogwarts with Harry and Hermione. It was too far-fetched and besides we were in college now. There were like eight books to be read for each class, loads of homework, and a shit ton of activities. I couldn’t be spending hours each day re-living my childhood.
But Cara was different. She was barely verbal most days, so I just slung my backpack onto my desk and started riffling through my bureau, looking for my swimsuit. I’d taken up swimming since starting college, the pool was one of the only places where I could relax, the beautiful light blue water, the monotony of doing laps again and again, just me and the black line at the bottom. And the truth was it helped me get my mind off Stone. Or more accurately, it was a neutral place, a place where I was alone with my thoughts and could think about my ex-lover as much as I wanted without feeling guilty, where I let myself go and didn’t berate myself for dreaming about him.
So I pulled my swimsuit on, struggling to get the tight nylon over my curves. Oh fuck, I’d gained weight again and the one-piece was super small, digging into my shoulders, the leg cut-outs so high as to almost hit my belly button, my boobs leaking out the sides. Well, a tight suit was supposed to be good for racing, I told myself, less drag in the water. Okay, I wasn’t exactly an Olympic swimmer but still, it made me feel better.
I threw on a cover-up and some flip-flops and was just about to head out the door when Cara finally looked up.
“You got a call,” she drawled.
I turned.
“Thanks,” I said tightly, trying to be patient. “From who? When?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Can’t remember, sorry,” she said, turning back to her book, burying her nose in that massive tome.
I put down my gym bag, hands on hips, suddenly pissed.
“Cara,” I said, my voice tight. “I need you to take messages. I know landlines aren’t popular anymore, people generally use cells, but still when I get a call I expect more detail than ‘you got a call.’ I need to know who it was and when they called. It’s not too much to ask, you know,” I said huffily.
Little impression that made on the girl. She just grunted in acknowledgment, her eyes never leaving the page.
So I turned to go again. Hopefully it hadn’t been the registrar calling. I’d been negotiating with them about tuition payments since I was a little short this year. With my job at the on-campus coffee shop and a bunch of scholarships, I could almost cover the cost of school, but not quite. So hopefully the registrar had come around and would let me make my payments a bit late this year. Once I got a summer job, I’d have a lot more coming in and the financial strain would ease. Hopefully, fingers crossed.
“I remember now,” Cara announced suddenly, her head jerking up. “It was the registrar.”
I groaned internally.
“Did they say anything specific?” I asked.
“No,” my roomie said disinterestedly, “just said for you to call back.”
Well, the issue was so important that I could do them one better. Looking at the clock, I saw it was three. I could run to the registrar, chat with them, and then hustle to the pool for a quick swim and still make it to class at four. It’d be a tight squeeze but I needed to get my tuition issue worked out as soon as possible.
So I almost ran across campus to the administrative building, my hair flying, curves bouncing. Panting, I landed at the window, whipping out my student ID.
“Hi, I got a call from you guys earlier, I’m Evie Jones, here about a payment plan?” I said breathlessly, my chest heaving. Damn it, this swimsuit as really tight and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
The woman behind the window took my ID, squinting as she punched my student ID into the computer.
“Name?” she said laconically.
“Evie, I mean Evelyn Jones,” I corrected. You never knew when the whole bureaucratic machine could come crashing down because of a nickname.
“Date of birth?” she asked disinterestedly.
“February 20, 1997,” I replied.
And the woman just shook her head, bored.
“I show you as all paid up,” she said, “No outstanding balance.”
I stood stock still. This couldn’t be right.
“No, just last week I came in because I needed to figure out a payment plan with the school,” I said slowly. “I owe State something like thirty thousand for this year.”
But the woman was bored, barely even looking up from her screen.
“Nope, shows here your balance is zero,” she said again, her voice flat. “Did you get some scholarship money? Or some financial aid come in? Or,” and here she cackled to herself, “you got a fairy godmother maybe?”
I shook my head, puzzled. None of those things had happened. I knew there was no more financial aid coming down the pike and the scholarships I’d been awarded had already been applied. So I pressed forward.
“Well, can you see when my tuition was paid and who paid it?” I asked. This had to be a mistake and I was sure it was going to all come unraveled at some point. “Surely, you can tell that from the system.”
The woman stared at the computer again, flicking through a couple keys.
“Says here it was paid in full today,” she remarked, her eyes flicking to me. “Like I said, you got a fairy godmother?”
I flipped through my mental rolodex. Nope. There was no one who could have done this, certainly no one I knew had a spare thirty thousand and could write a check just like that. So I shook my head, mystified.
“But does it say who paid it? Where it came from?” I asked futilely.
The woman just shook her head.
“Nope, computer doesn’t have that information. Just says thirty-one thousand five hundred and fifty-two cents was paid earlier today. The check already cleared,” she added helpfully.
And shaking my head again, I picked up my gym bag, dazed, turning to go. Where had the money come from? It was like a jackpot had fallen from the sky and landed on my head, showering me with clinking golden coins, easing my life of financial strain. This was so weird, an enormous load off my back. Maybe now I could take an unpaid internship this summer to bolster my resume instead of double shifts at the coffee shop. So many opportunities had just opened and I was mystified and elated at once, dazzled by my good fortune.
So with slow steps, I made my way to the pool. Honestly, my work-out was the last thing on my mind and I was wandering around a little lost, like someone who’d just found out they’d won the Megamillions Lotto when a big shadow descended over me.
Slowly, I turned, still dazed, still on Cloud Nine, my eyes focusing slowly.
“Stone?” I said, confused. “What are you doing here? WTF, where have you been?”
And the big man chuckled.
“Girlie,” he rumbled, his eyes ravenous, devouring me in my skimpy cover-up, “I’ve been waiting for you.”