❝She's one of those girls you just can't walk away from. One of those girls you will never forget, no matter how hard you might try.❞
BOOK ONE OF THE SCARLETT CHRONICLES |
After being kidnapped as a young child, seventeen year old Scarlett Grey is...
This version of the chapter follows the same basic storyline as the previous version. Before and after haven't changed much, but the events that occur between the time Scarlett finds out she was adopted and the time she leaves the penthouse have been altered to some degree to benefit the plot in the long run.
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I PULLED MY car into the parking lot at school, not caring much for my haphazard parking job. My mind was still reeling from the events of the past hour. I was there, at the school, for a reason; a reason I was sure to regret in no time. But, regardless, I wasn't about to turn my back on the only semi-rational idea my scattered thoughts could come up with.
So, before I could give myself another moment to renounce this as a horrible idea, I pulled my keys from the ignition. Climbing out into the cool autumn breeze, I slammed the door of my Mercedes, wincing at the loud thud of the glass shuddering in the door frame before walking quickly in the direction of the courtyard. I passed by students and professors, who eyed my skin tight leggings, combat boots and oversized t-shirt with varying levels of disgust or approval. But I ignored each of them, my eyes only searching for one person in particular.
Once I reached the courtyard, I whipped my head around- searching. Before long, I spotted a familiar mess of dark blonde hair in a leather jacket, leaning against a tree and towering over the majority of the students milling about. He had a cigarette balanced precariously between his lips while his dark eyes focused on the cellphone he held in one hand.
I jogged towards him. When he didn't happen to look up, I called out to him. "Noah!"
His head shot up, probably unaccustomed to hearing my voice actually call him by his first name. His eyes mine before shamelessly trailing down my body and coming back up to meet mine.
I resisted the urge to squirm under his heavy gaze.
An expression played on his lips, something between surprise and amusement. With his free hand, he took the cigarette out of his mouth, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out under the toe of his expensive shoe. "Well, love, I've got to say, I much prefer this look on you."
Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to chew him out for his sarcastic comment. Instead, it took every ounce of restraint I could muster to hide the desperation in my voice. "I have to ask you something."
