"I fucking hate you." I growl, my fists balling at my sides as I restrain from punching his perfect face.
He grins, his snowy hair falling in his eyes as he advances me, his irises glistening with mischief. "Oh, yeah? Come on, Florence. Show me just...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Fifteen
"Fuck . . ." I groan, gripping my hair and slamming my head back into my pillow.
I have been up for an hour now, tossing and turning. For some reason, an eerie feeling has tumbled over me and I can't quite pin-point it. It is a gut twisting feeling that I can't shake. My mind keeps rushing to Maeve but I ignore it.
Maybe I could call Jessie? The bitch never sleeps anyways so she should be awake.
Rolling over, I grab my phone, scrolling through my contacts till I reach Jessie's name. I quickly click on her number and call her.
The line rings and the longer it does, the more I sweat. The more my anxiousness turns into panic and I can't seem to figure out why.
Maeve and I used to be best friends so when something is wrong, I get this feeling inside of me that I can't explain.
"What?" I hear Jessie's hushed and short whisper.
I sigh. "Hey, I know this will sound weird but—I just—"
"Get to the fucking point, Black."
My eyes roll up to my ceiling and I huff, brushing my fingers along my chest, tracing the indents as a distraction to my running thoughts. "I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with Maeve and I was wondering, since you're her best friend, if you could message her or . . . something? I-I don't know." I tug my lip between my teeth, pulling myself into a sitting position. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . I can't get her off of my mind until I know she's okay."
Yeah, yeah, I may be an asshole to her and she may be one to me as well but, when it comes down to it, I care about her. A lot.
"Fuck me . . ." I hear her groan, the sound of her palm running across her face apparent. "Uh—I-I—"
"Something's wrong?" My heart leaps in my throat, a lump forming into a painful throb. "W-What happened?"
The phone shuffles and I hear a distant mumble, leaving me to press my ear closer to the speaker of my phone as if it would bring me closer to their voices. I tap my fingers along my bedding, tugging at the loose strands of fabric.
I manage to faintly hear a weak voice. "He knows me, Jessie . . ."
"Just . . . fuck, come over."
By the time she finishes her sentence, I'm already tumbling out of my bed, phone still clung to my ear. "Maeve's house?"
"No," Her annoyed voice draws. "Come to the fucking super-market—of course it's Maeve's house, you dumb fuck."
