Free Breathless by Claire Adams Page B

me how much easier it was to pay attention
in class when I’d gotten something I wanted so badly; instead of being
completely distracted by thoughts of Johnny, I thought about him for a few minutes
and then got back to work, telling myself that I would see him again soon
enough. He wanted me, after all—his texts made it obvious that he was looking
for more than just a random hookup.
    I met Georgia at the dining hall for lunch, still
tingling all over and giddy with excitement. I took out my phone while we were
waiting in line, and almost couldn’t help but giggle as I showed her the texts
he’d sent me—telling me how sweet I was, a little joke about calling him if I
couldn’t find my way around campus again, about skipping class to make out.
    We were looking around for a table, our trays loaded
up with food, and I noticed the girl who had been so hot for Johnny the
previous week, the one who had given me such a disgusted look at the party,
watching us. I tried to shrug it off and pretend like I hadn’t even seen her,
but the moment that Georgia and I sat down, she came over to our table, looking
sulky and almost angry. “Can I help you with something?” I asked, raising an
eyebrow. Up close, she was—I had to admit—every bit as pretty as me, with red
hair instead of blonde, and big brown eyes.
    “I just thought I’d offer you some advice,” she said,
smiling unpleasantly. “I mean, you’re a freshman, so you probably wouldn’t have
heard.” I rolled my eyes.
    “Go on then,” Georgia said.
    “I heard things are pretty hot and heavy with you and
Johnny,” the girl said, leaning in and not quite sitting down at the table with
us.
    “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I
responded. I couldn’t quite make myself pick up my fork—I wanted to be ready if
she was going to try and start a fight over him.
    “Johnny’s a low-down player and everyone knows it,”
the girl said, flicking her fingers in a gesture of dismissal. “I just thought
you’d like to know that he’s trash.” I laughed.
    “Didn’t stop you from flirting with him, did it?” the
girl’s dark eyes blazed.
    “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like Claire
White.” I stared at her in confusion. Who the hell was Claire White? She
grinned—looking pleased with herself that she’d confused me. “Just something to
keep in mind.” The girl walked away, not even giving us a second glance.
    “Who is that?” I asked Georgia. She shrugged.
    “Ignore it—she’s obviously just another jealous slag.”
I dug my phone out of my bag and pulled up Google, putting the name in. As the
search results loaded, I put the phone down between us on the table and
frowned, impatient for the answer. Claire
White, Promising College Student, Found Dead in her Dorm… a picture showed
a good-looking girl, probably around the same age as me, and in the text under
the headline, I saw that she’d committed suicide. Georgia and I looked at each
other in confusion. What the hell did that have to do with Johnny?
    Continued
in Breathless #2, the breathless series. Click
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    This
book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not
to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual
events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 
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© 2015 Claire Adams