Storm: Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

that obvious?” I say back into his ear, getting a whiff of his breath which smells like cinnamon.
    “Hell yeah. Looks like you need a fix. It’s not healthy to have hella shit on your mind before the clock strikes noon.”
    “Life of a freshman.”
    “Tell me about it.” He tears off a chunk of pages from his spiral notebook and passes them to me. “You missed a lot of class. Here’s the notes.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    I feel the phone buzz against my leg in my bag. I pull it out and it’s another text from Chase.
     
    CHASE: Please?
     
    He looks back, his face melancholy and sad.
     
    ME: ok
    ME: Where?
    CHASE: Outside. In the courtyard. Next to the big bell.
    ***
    Any other time of day in the courtyard it’s peaceful and beautiful. It’s wonderful to look at the ivy cascading down the walls of the academic buildings like waterfalls in the rainforest. The maroon colored brick that decorates the pavement never ceases to catch my attention as I walk by. The benches are quaint enough to enjoy a peach in silence or read a book of poetry by yourself. But that’s early in the morning or right after the sun sets. But not now. Not at noon. It’s pure madness. To be on the courtyard at this time of day scares me. It’s a battlefield on prime real estate. Fraternities and sororities hold court, bludgeoning new crosses with verbal insults and physical taunts. Social groups hand out leaflets in front of you give you dirty looks and snide comments if you don’t take one. One group chants black power, another yells mantras about gay marriage. All of it gives me a headache. Picket signs and candlelight vigils are too much for me at this time of day. It’s all a maze of organized confusion. Normally I throw on my earbuds and hop through the madness, but not today. I need to focus on what Chase has to tell me.
    “That girl. It wasn’t what it looked like,” he says as we sit on brick benches next to a small group of girls doing yoga. Hoards of students whiz past us scurrying to their next class or study group. Clearly this is not the best place to discuss what happened.
    “I’m not a player like you think I am,” he says. “I’ve been with a lot of girls before and but that’s in the past. It’s not who I am. I know it looked bad but Coach really wanted me to train her. That’s the truth.”
    I fold my arms, understanding I’m hearing the truth, which is what I want, but unsure if it’s the whole truth. I put my sunglasses on, the entire scene darkens. The darkness—it seems better this way.
    He sighs deeply; aware that I’m pensive and sensing I may be wasting my time here.
    “Okay. Listen. That girl. I did have sex with her.”
    “Oh that makes me feel much better,” I say flicking my gaze upwards at him.
    “Let me finish.” His face is stern and he stands up, facing me. “She was before you. Coach really asked me to train her. I let things cross the line and go where it shouldn’t have gone. But that was before you. It was just one time. A mistake. She doesn’t want to let it go even after the dozens of times I’ve told her there’s nothing and will be nothing between us.”
    I continue to listen, partially wavering on if he’s actually being sincere and waiting for him to put his foot his foot in his mouth, like most boys do when they continue to talk.
    “She means nothing. Brynn, you know I wouldn’t disrespect you like that. Inviting another girl over while you’re there? Really? You know I’m better than that. Give me that much.” He places the fingertips on my knee making me remember yesterday and how he held me in his arms. I felt safe. The safest I’ve felt in a long time.
    “Why should I believe you? Saying, ‘it’s not what you think’ is like the biggest cop out of all time.”
    His eyebrows scrunch together, seemingly trying to find the right words to say.
    “Because a beautiful person like you deserves much more than to be lied to. Because everything I’ve done