Loving Kinnick

If We Had Sex I Don't Remember You

Quick A/N!

Hi, everyone! There have been many questions circulating book two and its whereabouts! Currently, it is under major revision. However, the edited version of "Loving Kinnick" has gone up! I would recommend reading the new version as the plot has changed, and nothing between this original version and rewritten version is the same!

I hope to see you there! Thank you for this lovely journey. I appreciate all of you! You will never know what you as readers have done for me as a writer, aspiring author, and person<3

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I wanted to believe the cold weather is the reason my body is shaking. The eighteen-degree wind that's quickly descending with every passing second is why I'm trembling, and that it has nothing to do with me standing here - on the sidewalk, where my dad left me alone.

He told me self-defense classes aren't that scary. It's as if he thought my worries would be gone with the wind, and my anxiety would catch the next bus to the town of Non-Existent. Does he want a cookie for signing me up? I refuse to believe he didn't notice my reaction. I was practically quivering like a scared dog with its tail in between its legs.

I tried getting myself out of this situation - believe me. When I refused to move, dad told me he'd push me out on his dolly like I was Hannibal Lector. After a five-minute drive of complaining, we arrived. And with protest and difficulty, dad shoved me out of the cab of his police cruiser. Not really - I wish he did. I could have faked an injury.

But here I am, staring at this brick building oozing with moisture from the rain. The red neon sign dangling above me reading 'Delphi Boxing,' made me think I was joining an underground society.

Hopefully, the people inside can't see me. I've been waiting for my dad to come back. All I could hope is his car would pull around the corner, he'd jump out and tell me I'm on a TV show and this is just a prank. As I look down at my phone, I realize it's been fifteen minutes. Well, maybe he's taking his time.

A massive sigh left my mouth. The ghost I created out of hot air floated away, just like my dad, leaving me alone. I contemplated hanging out in the city. All I had to do was be back in this exact spot in an hour. He'd never suspect a thing.

Self-defense classes aren't a bad idea, though. Dad wanted me to know how to defend myself - and not because he knows I was roofied by my ex-boyfriend and traumatically scarred by what happened afterward - but because he thinks I'm weak. In which I definitely am, but whatever.

I regret going to that party. I regret trusting my ex and taking a drink from his friends. The ones my gut told me to stay away from. But most of all, I regret calling my mom to pick me up after it happened. If it weren't for me, she'd be alive.

If it weren't for Warren Mitchell, I would be able to walk into a room full of men without assuming the worst. I'd be able to go to the store alone without having a panic attack. But as much as I hate to admit it, if it weren't for Warren, I would be naive. My guard would be down, and I wouldn't listen to my gut instinct when it told me, 'something isn't right.'

My dad hasn't forgiven me for calling her. I never told him about Warren. I didn't want him to think I was making excuses. He didn't need the extra baggage anyway. So, instead of telling him the truth, he assumes I drank too much and made bad choices. Whatever helps him sleep at night, I guess.

The distant sound of rolling thunder snapped me out of my depressive thoughts. All of a sudden, walking around the city didn't sound like a good idea. I'm only here to complete registration. It's going to take hours. I like to plan for the worst - you know, to keep myself from being too disappointed.