Give me your thoughts.
___
HIM.
University of Daytona.
Home of the Bulldogs.
Home of the whores, bitches, and dicks of Florida.
Strolling through campus is either like driving a limo through New York traffic, or like driving a truck through the deserted streets of Arizona.
Who the fuck lives in Arizona?
Not the point. Normally, college is an easy place to be secluded, to be in the background; not thought about. You can enroll, and no one would know you existed until graduation when your name is called.
In our, college, however. People get called out for things left and right. For terrible things.
'What things?' You may ask.
Let's rewind, and let me walk you through the shit I was bombarded with within seconds of me stepping foot on campus from Texas.
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"Home sweet motherfucking home!" Hunter rasps out, dropping to his knees, and kissing the ground. I roll my eyes, watching him from the bus window as I attempt to pull my things from out of the overhead compartment.
"Could you get my stuff when you're done? I'm too short to reach." Carter asks groggily from behind me. She fell asleep a little while after I threatened her. Her and that damn friend wouldn't shut up.
Ignoring her, I pull out my suitcase, and close the compartment door before brushing past her and getting off the bus, turning the music up in my headphones louder.
Walking with a purpose, I maneuvered through other students. I was destined for a nap. I had a shit ton of work to catch up on, but first, I had to make love to my bed.
I pushed through the entrance doors, holding it open for a few ladies and trying my best to ignore everyone that attempts to hold a conversation with me.
I was close to the elevators when I heard someone yelling my name from across the room. Thinking it was just a traumatizing moment from when my mother used to always yell my name from around the house, I shook my head and pushed the up button.
But it got louder, and I was sure I wasn't having hallucinations. Turning around, I had a look on my face that made others jump back in fear. When I say I was tired, I was on the brink of murdering the next person that called my name.
Until I saw who was in front of me, and I breathed out a sigh of which sounded like relief, but it wasn't. "Missed me?" She bites her lip as she struts over to me, her heels clicking loudly.
I took my headphones off, and for the sake of not looking like a douche, I put them in my suitcase quickly. "Definitely," I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a friendly hug.
Instinct.
It was something I was accustomed to. I was used to embracing her in a way that was platonic, but hooking up with her in a public restroom or wherever.
Agreeing that I missed her...that wasn't something that came out naturally. To spare the feelings of the girl that I care about, though, I told her I did anyway.
"How was the 'Tournament of Texas'?" She made up her own name for it, using quotation marks and saying it in a deep voice that's supposed to mock a commentator's.
"It was pretty great, actually. We won." I grin, and she wraps herself into me further, resting her chin on my shoulder. She's got some height on her. Five eleven, with a good amount of weight. Her legs drive me crazy. Especially when I'm between them.
Especially then.
"Was there a trophy?" Her hands trace over my back, and one rests behind my head. She takes off my hat, and puts it on her head.
"Yeah, but I let Coach keep it. He's the one obsessed with all things baseball." I shrug, taking my hat back and putting it on backwards.
She nods her head, looking into my eyes before smiling. I smile back before my eyes flickered over to a much shorter girl with what looked like she was wearing just hoodie that swallows her, and Air Force ones. No pants.
But knowing her, she had on shorts, and she was just loving the attention of people thinking she wasn't wearing anything underneath. The whore.
However, her face said something different. I yawned as she stormed up in my direction. I thought she was heading for the elevators, but she wasn't. The angry poodle was gunning for me.
"You're such a dick!" She spits grumpily, picking up a suitcase and dropping it in from of me.
"Who is this?" India unwraps herself from me, and stands to her full height. Still shorter than me, but much taller than Carter.
Carter rolls her eyes playfully, and puts a smile on her face so fast it sort of scared me. "We've gone through this so many times, but since you have short term memory loss, I'll key you in. I'm Carter. I'm on the baseball team with your dick of a man."
"Oh," India smiles, "It's nice meeting you, but I was kind of talking to Car." She pats my chest for extra emphasis.
"Just ignore her," I tell India.
"It's not nice to ignore people, Car," she says the nickname as if it tasted bad in her mouth. If I'm being honest, I hate it, too. "Especially not the person of whom you poured mouthwash all over their clothes!" She kicks the suitcase in front of me. I bite my lip to stop from laughing.
"Hello," she waves her little hands in front of my face. "Excuse me—"
"Run along, mutt." I cut her off with a glare, and she stepped back as if I slapped her across the face, but she didn't let the shock linger for too long.
"Okay," she smiles at me before turning to India. "I'm sorry to bother. Have a nice night Indie and Car."
She picks up her suitcase, and grabs the other before heading into the elevator.
"You've taken a liking to her or something?" India raises a brow at me, testing my patience.
"Where the hell did you get that assumption from?" I look down at her as she shrugs, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"'Relle told me that you've been spending a lot of time around her these past couple of weeks. I was just seeing."
"Why would she tell you that?"
"She tells me everything."
"Did she tell you I had her taking my cock in the shower room back in Texas, too?" I ask, officially annoyed with her, and anyone for the matter.
She immediately pulls away from me, causing me to roll my eyes.
Here we go again.
"You had sex with her?" Her jaw dropped as if this is news to her. Her pouty lips formed into a frown, and I almost lost it.
I need a nap.
"No. We fucked."
"Isn't that the same thing?" She tilts her head to the side, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive manner.
"I don't believe it is."
"I thought we were exclusive."
"I'm not having this conversation with you." I grab my suitcase, and press the elevator button, but she just comes right up next to me. I contemplate going up the steps instead.
"Don't walk away from me."
"Don't allow dumb shit to leave your mouth."
"I'm sorry," she grabs my shoulder as the elevator doors open.
I step in, shrugging her hand off my shoulder, and looking her straight in her blue eyes. "If you want to make it up to me, swing by my room tomorrow. I'm not in the mood for you today."
And the doors close before she could say anything else.
I was so close to opening my room door, the key was in the slot when someone clamped a hand down on my shoulder for the second time. This time, however, the weight of it brought the soreness of my shoulder to life, and I gritted my teeth to keep from cursing.
"Storm, what you did during the tournament was wicked!" Some kid with braces laughs with his friend as they talk about the games. "What game was that? The third one; where you knocked it out the stadium. It was so cool, man."
"Thank you, seriously. But could we talk about it later? I've been dying to see my bed. I'm sure you guys know how it is." I force a closed lip smile before turning the door handle to the room.
"Oh, we so get you, Storm. Have fun with your bed activities." He slaps my arm, and I looked at where his hand had hit for a moment before nodding my head.
"I don't fancy fucking male drug addicts, so keep the suggestive tone to yourself, kid. Get a life." I shake my head, beyond aggravated.
They awkwardly shuffle down the hallway, and I finally make my way into my room. I was expecting to get a warm welcome back from Sin, but he was passed out on his bed, of course.
Not even bothering to strip, I fall onto my bed. I didn't get under the covers because I was dirty, and I wasn't in the mood to go to the showers.
I couldn't even close my eyes before someone was harshly knocking on the damn door. I growl frustratedly into my pillows before getting up and kicking shit out of my way.
"I fucking told you I don't want to talk, so get the fuck away from my—" I open the door, and was met with a face full of dean. "Door," I whisper, finishing my sentence.
She wasn't pleased, to say the least, and I grimaced as she pursed her lips. "Yeah, I'd watch my language if I were you."
"My fault," I apologize, leaning against the door frame. "Can I ask why you're here?"
"We need you in the lab."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" All guilt for nearly cursing out my dean went out the window. "I just got back from a tournament. I'm exhausted, and you want me in the lab?"
"You need to understand how to balance between your sports and school work, Carson."
I grip my hair tightly, blowing out a hot breath before scratching my scalp. "You knew I was out."
"We did indeed."
"So why can't you give me a break? Isn't there some sort of rule about this shit? I'm not going." I shake my head, stepping into my room and closing the door. She stops it with her foot.
"Unless you find a rule in the handbook, which is well over three hundred pages long, your ass better be down at that lab."
I close the door.
"Now, Carson!"
"Let me fucking change, goddamnit, I just got back from Texas!" I punch the door, which did nothing for my pent up frustration. I'm tired as fuck.
"You have five minutes!"
"Suck my heavy balls!"
|||
And that's how I found myself in the basement of the school. The laboratory.
"What do you need?" I ask as soon as I pushed open the doors. I was in sweatpants and a t-shirt. My usual.
"You have no idea how long we've been waiting for you." Some student pipes up, pushing her glasses up to her face.
I rub my eyes, not in the mood for this at all. I'm down here drowning in a sea of bookworms. All these people are seniors who are majoring in things like criminalistics, forensics, medicine, law, law enforcement, and the occasional 'I don't know what I want to do.'
"How long have you been waiting?"
The same one looks around at her peers before looking back at me. "Two weeks."
"And you couldn't have found anyone else for the job?"
"This case is a bit more challenging for us, Mr. Speros." A guy pipes up, swiveling around in his rolling chair and tapping a pen against a metal table. "The scene set up is...it's the worst we've seen so far."
"When did this happen?"
"Two weeks ago."
I curse under my breath as the doors of the lab open, and my dean walks in, her face grim. "What's the story?"
"We don't have a story."
"Do you have a file?" Looking around at the entire room, my mood crumbles before me, and I grind my teeth together. "Somebody better speak the fuck up."
"W-we um. We uh—"
"W-we we um—what?" I mock the girl that started talking, "Didn't you go to speech therapy? Fix the stutter or get out." I jab my thumb in the direction of the door.
"We don't have a file, Carson." My dean answers for the girl that started packing her things up to get ready and leave, her eyes brimming with tears.
She drops her things, her hands shaking as she attempts to walk out, "Get physical therapy while you're at it. Your stutter has traveled to your limbs as well." I spooked her with how deep my voice came out.
"Carson." She brings my attention back to her, "There is no file."
I stared at her blankly for a while before it finally registered in my mind. "You're fucking joking."
"This case is difficult—"
"No. Hell no. You drag me down here after I just got back from Texas, just to tell me you don't have a file?" I raise my voice, and she doesn't even flinch, used to my outbursts down here.
"It was urgent."
"Urgent enough for you to wait for two weeks just so I could work the case?"
"Listen to me—"
"No you listen to me!" I walk around the lab, muttering curses at the sight of a messy room. Pictures tossed everywhere, write ups from old cases, textbooks, pens and pencils. "If I was taking a shit, and you demanded that I come down here, I would've blew a gasket."
"But you weren't."
"And if I was?" I challenge her, picking up a picture of what I would assume would be the topic of this meeting.
"Pardon me?" She grits out slowly.
"If I happened to have explosive diarrhea, what would you have done? This case isn't even filed. Have you thoroughly searched the room? Do you have possible suspects—if there are any at all? What have you done already?" I question, taking a seat on a chair next to a girl that was flipping furiously through her textbook before clearing her throat.
Her tired blue eyes meet mine. "I was willing to search and take pressure off your shoulders, but Dean Flabby didn't let me anywhere near it." She spits, playing a joke off of Abigail's nickname.
Flabby Abby.
That's the dean's name.
"Could you work with me?" I ask her quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear. They were too busy talking amongst themselves anyway.
Her eyes widened a little because usually, I like to handle shit by myself. But with baseball, Sin, and my class work, I need all the help I can get. And she's the only rational thinker here.
A small smile found its way on her lips, a grateful smile. "Hell yeah," she grins, showing her braces. "I've been wanting to work a case for so long. Especially this one. It's so...weird."
"Weird how?" I peer over at her space on the table, which is neat. Papers stacked nicely on top of each other, and her books aligned by size.
"I made a file." She picks up a manila folder with a large stack of paper being held to it by a paper clip. "This has literally everything we found at the site in pictures, and this," she hands me a manila envelope with the words fragile splayed across the front. "Is the evidence we picked up."
I look at her, impressed. "This wasn't tampered with?"
She shakes her head, "I was the first to look at the scene. As soon as I heard about it, I went in before the others because I don't trust them. I'm sick and tired of cases turning into the school's favor."
"You're amazing." I grin at her, placing the things on the table before stretching my arms out, "Come on, girl, give me a hug."
She rolls her eyes before embracing me, "My girlfriend would flip if she saw this."
"Tell her you can both swing by my room tonight, and I'll apologize very thoroughly." I mumble into her ear, to which she scoffs, pulling away. But there was still a smile on her face.
"Go take a shit. If you need me, I'll be in the library tonight. I have a big test coming up." She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Good luck."
"You too." She picks up her things as I get up and walk straight out of the lab with the folder and envelope in my hands.
I have a lot of shit to do.
HER.
It took me a good thirty seconds to realize I didn't have a home anymore.
I chuckle to myself, realizing how depressing that sounded in my head. Let's rewind.
It took me a good thirty seconds to realize my home was on the first floor.
In the library.
So after my great escape from Carson and India, I cursed as I was riding up the elevator to the dorm room that wasn't mine anymore. I decided to punish myself by walking down the steps, suitcases in tow because I didn't feel like carrying them.
The obnoxious sound of the weight clanking against the steps had people looking up at me, spooked. I rolled down the corridor, past check-ins and up a little ramp before I saw the words in bold Roman lettering: Library.
I went in past the two little stands that went off whenever someone tried to walk away with a book they didn't check out, and I signed in at the front desk.
"Good afternoon!" The lady behind the desk smiles, "How can I help you?"
"I was just checking in." I nod quickly before taking a step away from her.
"Oh. Suitcases aren't allowed in the library. You'll have to place them outside of the detectors," she points to the stands that I just walked through, the smile, now, a little forced.
"You're kidding."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not. They should still be waiting on you whenever you decide to check out." She taps her manicured fingers on the clipboard that I had signed, before pointing to the spot again. "It's right over—"
"I'm aware." I grumble, rolling my suitcases an inch past the detectors before glancing back at her. She gives me a thumbs up. I resist the urge to give her a middle one in return.
I pull out two blankets and a pillow before quickly walking past her, and ducking between aisles, ignoring the weird looks I get from other students.
I found a spot outside of a work room. A recliner. "Well, isn't this cute." I mumble under my breath before setting up camp. I place one blanket over the chair before placing my pillow down and folding my second blanket up, setting it next to the pillow.
Looking around, I find a mini table with a pad of sticky notes and pens, and I write down a note.
This is my home. I've kept it neat to make it look like less of an eyesore. Do NOT move or touch my items, or I will find you, and kill you.
Thank you,
~Bum of the campus.
___
Hmm...I like the next chapter more (Yes it's already written).