The Sophomore (College Years 2)

He’s angry at women in general, I guess. Lucky me.

And oh God, he looks furious. His face is red, his eyes wide and blazing. Has he been hanging around here all this time? Why didn’t Chuck spot him? Was he hiding behind a tree? There are no other cars in the lot. This is why we felt safe. Why Donna let Chuck and the other guys who work with us leave earlier.

Big mistake. Huge.

“Go away!” I scream at the guy, which only infuriates him. I take my gaze away from him long enough to try and grab my phone, my fingers curling around it. Finally.

I pull it out, finishing the sentence I started to Hayden.

Me: Hey! Can you come get me at the restaurant? My car broke down again and there’s a guy

The man reaches for the door handle, lifting up on it. My automatic locks don’t work all the time, and the door actually swings open, letting in a gust of cool air and an overwhelming scent of beer mixed with sweat.

And the man. The man barges into my car, lunging for me. I scream as loud as I can, the phone falling from my hand again. I hear it land with a cl

atter, and I have no idea if the text actually sent to Hayden or not. I try to fight him off, struggling beneath him, but he’s so heavy. And smelly.

He grabs hold of my shoulders, giving me a shake. “Shut up! Quit screaming!”

I scream even louder. I have no idea what he wants from me, but I’m terrified. He lets me go to smack me across the face with his fist, so hard my ears ring and the scream dies in my throat.

“That’s it. Be a good girl. Don’t yell,” he tells me, his voice calmer. Quieter. “Be nice, and I’ll be nice too.”

Anger and a massive dose of adrenaline floods me, drowning out the fear. Until all I can think about is hurting him. Destroying him. It’s the only way I’ll get out of this alive, I think.

I’m in pure fight or flight mode.

I’m ready to fight.

Ignoring the pain in my throbbing face, I concentrate on bending my knee beneath him, my foot falling to the floorboard, giving me good leverage. I aim straight at his crotch and with a grunt, I swing up my knee with all my might.

Nailing him right in the balls.

“Fuck! You bitch!” he groans, tipping over in agony with so much force his forehead smashes into my nose.

Plunging me into complete darkness.

Thirty-One

Jackson

I didn’t want to tell Ellie why I came to Los Angeles a day before I had to, and without the team. I had to get special permission from the school, and the coaches gave their approval after I explained what my plans were.

Rick at Evergreen left me a voicemail Wednesday morning, saying he felt like an ass that they never scheduled a meeting with me. They wanted to talk. They’re interested in me, he said. Could I come to Los Angeles in the next few days?

I played that message over and over, excitement rising within me. I didn’t want to jinx anything so I told no one about this meeting I was able to schedule. Not even Ellie.

I wanted to ensure I could make this happen first, before I told people. I didn’t want to let them down—didn’t want to let myself down either.

I’m going to his office first thing. I couldn’t sleep last night. I was too excited, too nervous, too agitated, all of it. So I gave up trying and stayed up till four in the morning writing a song.

Another one for Ellie.

I tried texting her to let her know I’m thinking about her, but she never answered, so I figured she was sleeping. I know she had to work, so I left her alone, and eventually fell into a deep, dreamless sleep myself that almost had me missing my alarm this morning.

Lucky for me, I woke up with a few minutes to spare for a quick shower before I gathered up my shit and hopped into my car, making my way toward Evergreen’s offices in downtown Los Angeles. I stayed at a hotel nearby, because I wasn’t about to let the traffic fuck with this appointment. It still takes me longer than I predicted to get there, so when I’m finally pulling into the parking garage, I’ve only got a few minutes to make it up the elevator and into their offices to be on time.

“Park it for me, will you?” I ask as I climb out of my Mercedes, leaving the engine running. I throw my keys at the valet dude and he catches them with one hand, tearing off the slip I need to collect my car later. I exchange it for two twenties, pressing them into his palm.