Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 47 "Wait...wait..." I press my face against the car's window, trying to make sense of a bunch of blurred lights up ahead. The rain smearing down the glass isn't helping. Neither is the amount of alcohol I consumed. "Are those...is that..." I whip my head around, staring blearily at Melissa. "Hey. You. How drunk am I? No. Really. Give it t'me straight. How. Drunk?" "You..." She points at me, stares at her finger, and spreads her fingers out so she can study her manicure. "Fuuuck. I chipped a nail." She sways as the Uber driver angles for the curb.

"Whendidi chip anail?" "Drunk," I insist, and then turn back to my faceprint on the window. "I think I'm very drunk." This is a problem. I wasn't supposed to get drunk. I'm starting a new job tomorrow, for fuck's sake. Which is precisely why I'm drunk. Ironically...I think. I was celebrating my independence. In secret, of course. Still haven't told anyone. Won't. Can't. I'll get in trouble with my professor. That's a really bad thing. I burp and almost throw up. Great. I'm gonna have a hangover tomorrow, aren't I? "Wow. Fuck. Wha's happ'ning?" Melissa demands.

Suddenly she's trying to climb over me to reach the fucking window. "Dude, hey. Bound'ries." I shove at her, miss, and slap her in the face. "Whoops." "Ouch." Her eyes narrow as she tries to focus out the window. "Why're the cops here again?" She gasps, grabs my shoulders, and twists me to look at her. "Ow!" Pretty sure she dislocated something. "Cops? Again?" "Did someone die? God, what if it's Ezra? What if he died?" Her eyes are so wide, I can see all the white around her irises. "Satan had better get the red carpet out," I mutter, trying to untangle her fingers from my clothes.

Her clothes. My clothes that were her clothes. Holy cow, am I drunk. "You two gonna be okay?" the Uber driver asks hesitantly. "Oh, yeah, Eric, I'm pre'y sure-" I begin, but then Melissa opens my door for me-from the inside-and I fall onto the sidewalk. "Ow." She tumbles on top of me a second later. "Fuck." Boots crunch over the wet road. Eric the Uber driver hauls us to our feet. "Why're you so tall?" Melissa demands as she tugs herself free. I pull at the sleeve of her cropped pink blazer.

"'S not his fault, Mel." We don't make it past the foyer of the GAZ house, because the place is swarming with damp sorority sisters, campus police, and a pair of frustrated cops. "Is this 'cos we're underage? They seriously call the cops around here?" I whisper, fucking incredulous. Melissa ignores me, grabbing Hillary's arm as she plods past. "The hell's going on?" Hillary turns a slack face to her. There are streaks of mascara under her eyes. "Someone broke in." "Broke-" Melissa cuts off when a thirty-something police officer walks over to us.

"We've been robbed?" Her voice is going higher and higher. She grabs the officer's sleeve. "What they take? Oh God, no! My purses!" He opens his mouth, but she whips away and hurtles toward the staircase, only to be blocked by the second cop. The first cop scans me and gives me a wan smile. "I'm assuming you were at the party with the rest of them?" "Party? More like...more like a teeny little get t'gether." Jeez, could you slur anymore, Haven? It wasn't a party. It was a rager.

Only reason we left is that the girl who'd arranged the get-together got the dates wrong, and her parents arrived unexpectedly. And angrily. Oh so fucking angrily. If I'm in shit, so are half the girls in this foyer. But I guess I shouldn't bother trying to hide the fact that we've been drinking. Everyone's barefoot, rumpled, frizzy, and smudged. And the smell... "Would you say more than a hundred students, or less?" the cop asks like he honestly thinks I'm capable of counting over ten. Meanwhile, I'm trying so hard not to black out, it's been over a minute since I've blinked.

Is this the guy Kai was talking about last week? The one that wanted info on him and Ezra? Sure sounds like it. God, I wish I wasn't so drunk right now. My gaze flicks down to his name badge. "Did someone really break in, Mr Thatcher?" Whoever made liquor that tastes like melted chocolate must be laughing in trillionaire right now. "Deputy," he corrects pleasantly. "You're a member of the Gamma Alpha Zeta sorority, correct?" "Uh...not really.

It's kinda more like a, you know," I give him an airy wave, "long-term sleepover sorta situation." "Which room is yours?" "Last on the left." He glances up, a gleam of interest in his brown eyes. He's cute for a guy his age. But way too serious. And way too goody-two-shoes. Also, since when do I judge how hot older guys are? Oh, right. Since a certain smoking hot professor set his stalkerish sights on me. I should tell Mr. Detective over here about Bastian. I could report his ass right here, right now. I stiffen at the thought. Well, maybe not right now.

In my current state, it'll end in tears. And vomit. I'm not in the mood for either. "Last door on the left?" he repeats. Hang on...wait just one fucking second. Is this a narc raid? Melissa might have weed in our room. "Me and Melissa's," I elaborate reluctantly. Not to throw her under the bus or anything, but I'm not getting kicked out of college for some weed. Something tells me no matter what, I'll end up being the 'friend' she's holding it for. "Name?" "Parker. Mel.

Issa." I was going to point her out, but when I hear her raising her voice, insistent someone let her go upstairs to check on her purses, I decide against it. "Your name?" Mr. Detective Thatcher helpfully clarifies. "Oh. Ha ha. Lee. Haven Lee." I realize I'm wringing my hands, and quickly shove them behind my back. The deputy glances up, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Haven Lee," he repeats suspiciously. "The Haven Lee?" Why does this suddenly feel like an interrogation? I glare at him. "Depends.

Which Haven Lee you lookin' for, exactly?" "The one from the Rain Dance." "Like, half the school was there." He gives me a rueful smile. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Miss Lee. Just fact checking." I shift my weight again and force down another burp as I consider my options, nearly puking. Blerk. Chocolate booze tastes good going down, but not so good coming back up. Oh, yeah. Options. I got none. Everyone saw me. But years of Riversider conditioning makes admitting anything to this cop feel like I'm peeling off my skin. "I was in fact at the Rain Dance," I say reluctantly.

"So it was you," he murmurs, eyes narrowing slightly. "Didn't recognize you without your body paint. Is there any particular reason you haven't filed an assault charge against Ezra Jordan?" My eyes snap back to Thatcher. Deny, deny, deny. "What? Why?" Thatcher's eyes narrow. Whoops. "I mean, who?" This goes way past conditioning. Riversiders have a code. Snitches get stitches. And since you only go to the hospital if you're ringing Death's fucking doorbell, it's more like snitches get infections and severe scarring.

"I was informed by a-" Thatcher flips back a page or two in his notebook "-Kai Jordan that his brother assaulted you. I then verified this information with several other parties." Kai said that? To a cop? What parallel universe did I wake up in? "Don't know any Kai." Deny, deny, deny. "Kai Jordan," Thatcher repeats, like the booze is making me dumb. I shake my head. "Kai? From the NEX fraternity down the road?" Thatcher prompts. I keep shaking my head, hoping it'll get my brain back online so I can come up with something smart to get this guy off my back. "Strange. Says he knows you.

Said you were friends a few years back." So exactly which part of our history wasn't I supposed to tell this guy, Kai? Because from the sounds of it, Thatcher bought the fucking rights to your autobiography and you've already got the first draft done. Asshole. "Oh." I slap my forehead. "Kai!" I point at Thatcher. "Now I remember." He stares at me for a second and then ducks his head to write something down. "I saw the video, Miss Lee. Now, unless you're claiming that wasn't you...?" God, who hasn't seen the video? Oh. Right. Me. I could have.

The VibeFeed account Bastian made for me has opened up a lot of doors...but why watch a replay when I can still smell the dog food and feel that collar around my throat at 2 a.m. most nights? "Yeah...it's, uh...it's all coming back to me," I mutter miserably. "Good. So let's circle back. Any reason you decided not to report this assault?" Which one, Detective Nosy? I clamp my lips closed, fighting the urge to giggle maniacally. Thatcher's serious face is sobering me up real good, but now I'm veering off into hysteria. "I, uh..." Can't tell him I was too fucked up on drugs.

That I decided to rather have a threesome with my professor and ex-bff than head to the police station. That so much fucked up shit has happened since, Ezra's bullying pales in comparison. My clothes itching after my dash through the rain. I scratch the back of my neck, wincing. Between the hangover brewing behind my eyes and the damp clothes scraping against my skin, my body feels like it's staging a full-scale rebellion. "Um, I need to change out of these clothes. Could I go upstairs to fetch⁠-" "No one's going upstairs, Miss Lee.

It's an active crime scene up there." "Where'm I supposed to sleep tonight?" He rocks back on his heels, giving me a 'not-my-problem' shrug and a 'just-doing-my-job' purse of his lips. "Let's go back to the night of the Rain Dance." "Let's not," I mumble. Itchy, grumpy, fucking pissed off. Homeless...again. Thatcher frowns. "What?" "What?" Thatcher gives his head a small shake. "The dance." "What about it?" Thatcher's lips tighten, but somehow he remains calm. Which is infuriating, because I want him to blow a fuse and leave me alone. He points at me with the back of his pencil.

"Just tell me what happened at the party." "Tonight's party?" I say, feigning idiocy. "Why? Think it's got something to do with this?" I wave a hand in the vague direction of upstairs, where I assume the break-in happened, because I can't see anything out-of-place down here. Except a shitload of upset sorority girls. Someone is off sobbing in one corner, and someone else is still demanding to know the whereabouts of her purses. It's Melissa. She's super emotional when she's been drinking. And she loves her purses. See? I can be a detective too. Thatcher taps his pencil against his notebook.

"I never said that." He didn't imply it either. But now that I've said it out loud, I can't shake the thought that whatever happened upstairs is connected. Not to the Rain Dance, like Thatcher so carefully didn't imply. To me. Not because, as Kai dramatically stated, I think the world revolves around me, but because what are the chances this doesn't have something to do with me and Kai? I did force him to suck Professor Rooke's dick. At gunpoint. I didn't accept his measly apology. And I didn't stop Melissa warding him off with pepper spray.

The way he's been looking at me this week-like he soaked me in gasoline and now his lighter doesn't want to work-made it very hard to keep calm and carry on. It would be totally understandable if he's feeling a teensy bit...resentful. My gaze snaps back to the cop. I don't like the way he's looking at me, like he can read my mind. Thank God that's not possible. When he just keeps staring expectantly at me, I give my arm a nervous scratch. My damp, itchy skin suddenly feels two sizes too small. "Can I go now?" "Look, Miss Lee, there's no need to be cagey.

I don't care how much you had to drink tonight, or if you took any other substances..." He locks his legs, looking like he can stand that way for hours if he has to. "I'm just after the facts of this case." Now it's a case? I swoon, scrunching up my face, and wishing I could produce tears on the spot. "You know, I'm not feeling all that great. The booze, the excitement..." He's nonplussed.

"I just have a few more⁠-" "Look, Officer Thatcher⁠-" "Deputy." "-Deputy Officer Thatcher, unless you want me puking on your nice shiny shoes, then⁠-" "Ugh!" Melissa appears at my side, glaring at Deputy Thatcher. "Your friend won't tell me anything! He just keeps saying we can't go upstairs." She runs her hands over her hair, grimacing. Like mine, it's starting to frizz. Guess there's not enough product or flat ironing in the world to combat this rain. "I need to check on my things!" She pauses, hands still on her hair, and eyes the deputy up and down. "Damn.

You're fucking hot." She gives me a filthy, lopsided smile. "He's hot, right?" Her face clears. "Or'm I just really drunk?" I purse my lips, wiggling my hand. "Meh." Thatcher clears his throat, sending a terse smile her way before focusing on me again. "How about we pick this up tomorrow, Miss Lee? If you'd please give me your number, I can call to confirm your whereabouts⁠-" "He wants your number!" Melissa stage-whispers loud enough that a dead-drunk girl propping herself up against the wall beside the front door squints over at us. "Phone's broken," I say. It's not entirely a lie.

My phone is in pieces. No one knows about the one Bastian gave me. "Oh, yeah." Melissa nods sagely. "It really is, Officer." That dirty smile crawls back onto her mouth. "Howabout I give you my number...?" Thatcher's mouth tightens as he side-eyes Melissa. "I'll find you," he says to me. Ha ha. No, you won't. Call it a skill. He scribbles something in his notebook and gives me that same blisteringly polite smile before walking away. "Mm-mm!" Melissa ogles his ass as he walks away. "We're going to the Gs.

Don't know where everyone's gonna sleep, but I guess we'll figure it out." I stare after the Deputy. I only confirmed what he already knew, yet somehow I'm filled with a sense of dread, like I said way too much. If there's going to be some kind of fallout from this, I need to be prepared. First, I need to know if Kai's even responsible for this mess. But if I can't go upstairs... I whip my head around to look at Melissa. "Who called the cops?" "Abigail. She was the first one back. Remember, she had too many⁠-" Thankfully, Melissa cuts off when I raise my hand.

My stomach is way too tender for a rehash of that story. We all heard her retching in the bathroom. "Where is she?" Melissa points, and I grimace when I see Deputy Thatcher talking to Abigail. Come on, man. "I need to talk to her. Find out what happened," I mutter. "Yes!" Melissa grabs my arm, giving me a hard shake. "She'll know about my purses. If something happened to my Hermès, I'm gonna rage." "You gotta distract the cop." "How?" "I dunno. Give him a statement or something." Her eyes narrow as she turns to look at Thatcher. "Fuck a statement," she mutters.

"Ima give him enough probable cause to arrest me." She struts over to them like a supermodel on crack before I can get a word out. I roll my lips together, my eyes misting. I've never been more proud. Deputy Thatcher recoils when she arrives at his side, eyebrows furrowing at whatever she says to him. But a second later, he's dismissing Abigail and grabbing Melissa's elbow to lead her out of earshot. I should be shocked, but it's Melissa. I can't think of any guy who wouldn't want to fuck her. Although it kinda just looks like they're arguing. Whatever.

I hurry over to Abigail, pulling her into the kitchen by her arm. Her face is pale, her eyes bloodshot, but she looks more shaken by all the activity in the sorority house than by her mild case of chocolate-alcohol poisoning. "What happened?" I whisper, crossing my arms and darting quick glances over at Thatcher and Melissa. "Don't know how they got in. Everything was still locked when I got here." "Probably climbed through a window," I say, waving a hand. "What did they take?" "I don't know. It was such a mess.

You'll have to see for yourself when they let you up there." "What..." I trail off with a low groan. What was a tiny, sneaky suspicion when I saw the police lights has evolved into icy dread. "It's just me and Melissa's room, isn't it?" It's rhetorical. I already know Abigail's going to nod her head before she does. What the hell triggered Kai to do something like that? Her face drains of what little color it had left, and she presses the back of her hand against her mouth. "Oh, God," she moans, her eyes squeezing shut. "I think I'm going to be⁠-" I hurry away before I can hear the rest.

Melissa's trailing a finger down Thatcher's chest, despite the angry frown on his face. She wasn't kidding about getting arrested. Tucking the black pumps Melissa lent me under my arm, I make sure no one's watching me, and slip out the front door. Rain patters down on my hair and face as I splash down the street. It's drumming so hard on the road and the houses I pass that I can't hear anything else-a solid wall of water and sound that makes me feel like I'm all alone in an alien landscape. Or it could be the booze.

I shield my eyes with a hand as I jog down the sidewalk, squinting across the street to see the Greek letters nailed above each front door. I spot a dark-blue door, the letters NEX in white above it. Thanks, Thatcher. I stand shivering for a long moment, dredging up some courage. What the hell will I say to him? Hey, I know you wrecked my room, what the fuck is your problem? Avoiding him hasn't worked. Forcing him into sexual servitude only made shit worse. If we're going to be in each other's space like this all the time, then we need to work out some kind of compromise. A truce.

I won't spend the next few years of my life at war with my best friend. My ex-best friend. Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but despite all the rage and hurt, I still see traces of the boy who'd do anything to make me smile. Who'd painstakingly separate the green M&M's from his candy and give them to me...after he made me arm wrestle him, of course. If that Kai still exists, surely we can figure out some way to coexist without destroying each other. Fuck, maybe this is exactly what needs to happen. I take a breath, wipe hair and rain out of my face, and run across the road. A car horn blares.

It's so close, so fucking loud, it's like it's inside my fucking head. Headlamps paint the rain, casting a bright cloud around me. I can't tell from which direction the light is coming. I nearly slip in my hurry to stop, in case I'm running into the path of the car. Should have kept running. When I turn, the car appears through the curtain of rain, speeding toward me at a million miles a second. The brakes lock with a demonic screech, and the car shudders as its tires try to grip the wet road. Death should have been swift. Done and dusted in a millisecond.

But the moment stretches into eternity. Or at least, long enough for me to question every life choice I've made up to this point. Like how I keep struggling to claw my way out of this hole, even as life keeps shoveling dirt over my face. How I cling so desperately to a relic of my lost childhood, when it's obvious he's changed for the worse. Get full chapters from FindNovel.net How I'm willing to toss aside my dignity for even a sliver of a normal, when I should know by now that an apple-pie life never has, and never will be, on Haven Lee's bingo card. Maybe it's better that it's over now.

Finally. No more fighting for scraps. An end to those awful memories that surface at the worst times. Just darkness and nothingness forever. Because, fuck, when it's all said and done...I'm tired, man. I'm so fucking tired. Death, dark and solid, hurtles toward me. And I fucking welcome it.