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Two weeks later, nothing had gone back to normal.
"—and don't forget to bring your assignment next week if you haven't submitted yet. I won't be collecting any after that. Have a great weekend," the lecturer said, ending the session.
I got up as the hall erupted with the sound of chairs scraping, voices shouting, and laughter filling the air. I quickly made my way out, placing my headphones over my ears. They always saved me from the students who tried to make small talk.
This had been my routine for the past two weeks — arriving late and taking the back seat, not that I was complaining. The moment the lecture ended, I was always the first one out, headphones on, ignoring anyone who attempted to talk to me.
Today was no different.
I strode down the halls, eager to reach my car as fast as possible. My hands were tucked into the pockets of my hoodie as I pushed through the now crowded corridors. Some people stood around talking while others dragged themselves along.
After a few minutes of pushing and being pushed, I finally reached the parking lot. Just as I was about to get into my car, a hand grabbed my arm.
A wave of heat rushed through my body. My chest tightened. I gritted my teeth, controlling my breathing as I turned around, brows furrowed and eyes shooting daggers at the hand — and then at him.
"Sorry," the guy muttered quickly, letting go immediately. "I tried calling you, but you didn't seem to hear me." He shifted on his feet, pointing at my headphones.
I had heard him. I just chose to ignore him, assuming he'd give up and fuck off. I wasn't looking for new friends. The ones I had were already enough trouble.
"Umm… I'm having a party this Saturday and thought I should invite you." He paused, scratching the back of his head. "It'll mostly be first-years."
I stared at him blankly, unsure what to say.
"You can bring your friend," he added.
"Okay," I muttered. A distraction wouldn't hurt — maybe even a one-night stand.
"Just like that?" he asked, then immediately regretted it when he saw my expression. "It's just… you don't talk to anyone at school except that Barbie guy, so I thought you'd need more convincing."
I turned and got into my car, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat and pulling my headphones down around my neck.
"I'll text you the details!" he called as I drove off.
Today Brandon had a morning class while mine was in the evening, so I was heading home alone. I cranked up the radio, letting the trap music fill the space as I opened the top of my car.
I took the long route home — the same way I had for the past two weeks.
As I reached the familiar neighborhood, I slowed down. My eyes drifted toward the mansion. I hoped for just one glimpse of her. Just a glimpse.
Two weeks had passed and I still couldn't reach her. Her phone went straight to voicemail, and every time I passed her house, there was no sign of her.
I was considering swallowing my pride and calling Sandy. Maybe his brother knew something. Sandy was the only person I could get his number from.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white as I drove past the mansion, then pushed the speed just below the limit. I only wanted to get home, put on a show, and disappear into it.
I always knew caring about someone came with pain. I just didn't know it could hurt this much — especially with someone you barely knew.
It hadn't even been two months since I met Sam, yet her absence was tearing me apart. Sometimes it felt hard to breathe. Like I was drowning.
Was she still locked in that mansion? Had she left for Germany? If I had those answers, I'd know what to do. At this point, I'd do anything to make sure she was okay.
Even her crazy plan of escaping.
She had been there for me when I needed someone. I still remembered her notes at the hotel. The memory tugged a small smile onto my sour face.
I couldn't leave her alone.
She needed someone.
She needed me.
By the time I reached my building, my head was still spinning. I parked and took the stairs — I needed the walk.
When I reached my door, keys in hand, I froze.
The door was open. Just a crack.
Who the hell was in my apartment?
It wasn't Brandon — he'd gone to his parents' after some emergency. And Chase wouldn't come here if I wasn't home.
I pushed the door open carefully, hoping it was one of them.
I'm welcomed by a smell burning onions. What the hell? Who could be cooking in my apartment? It's definitely not Brandon, I doubt he even knows how to make noodles.
I brace myself and quietly make my way to the kitchen my steps light. I peak through the door and there is no one there.
What the hell?
I rushed to the stove and turned it off. The pan hissed in protest.
"Couldn't even turn off the stove," I muttered, checking the other rooms. No one.
Then the front door creaked open behind me.
I turned.
And froze.
It couldn't be.
She wouldn't dare.
No way in hell this was happening.