Page 104 of The Other Side
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For two whole weeks, Chance and I had the campus practically to ourselves. Not that anyone would have known, as we pretty much lived in my bed. The proverbial glass having been shattered, we couldn’t quite manage to keep our hands off each other.
On the last evening before school was meant to resume, Chance had insisted on one last sleepover, despite my protests and the fact that I was feeling woefully behind on my prep work for the new semester. But he was terribly difficult to argue with, so I hadn’t.
Chance’s face was between my legs and had been for a while. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he enjoyed edging me just as much as he enjoyed getting me off.
He had also taken it as a personal challenge to elicit noises from me while we were messing around or having sex, as I had told him that we needed to be more careful and quiet once the rest of the faculty returned.
“But the noises you make are my favorite,” he’d complained. “I’ll just try harder then.”
“You’re taking too long on purpose,” I groaned when he decreased his tongue’s pressure on my clit, just as my legs began to shake, a sure sign that I was on the crest of another release.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He pressed a wet kiss to the inside of my thigh.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. We both froze.
Chance looked up at me, wordlessly asking if I was expecting anyone to drop by unannounced. Seeing as it was eleven forty-two on a Sunday night, I most definitely was not.
“Get back to your room,” I hissed, careening off the bed, searching for my shirt amongst the pile of discarded clothing on the floor.
“Just a minute!” I called out to whoever was waiting in the hallway.
“I wasn’t finished,” he argued in hushed tones as he danced back into his pants.
“Neither was I.” I glared at him, the space between my legs wet and throbbing.
Once adequately dressed, and hoping that Chance was already on his way down the fire escape, I opened the door a crack.
“Isabelle?” I asked, puzzled as to why Claire DeLongpre’s roommate and best friend was at my door.
“Hey, Miss Price.” She shuffled nervously from foot to foot, clearly freezing in her pajamas, with a peacoat thrown over the top that appeared to offer her little warmth. Her dark hair was parted in the middle with two neat French braids on either side.
It was clear from her skittish behavior, she was well aware of how much trouble she could get into for breaking the dorm curfew, as well as being seen in the faculty housing across campus. “Umm, do you know where Mr. Harper is?” Her teeth practically chattered as she spoke. Whatever she needed, she didn’t trust me with it.
“Why do you need Mr. Harper?” I asked softly, taking a step into the hall.
“I—” She glanced back down the hall, perhaps worried that another faculty member would suddenly appear, then pulled a bulky padded envelope from the inside of her coat. “I was rearranging the furniture in my room—they never reassigned someone after Claire—” She paused, her eyes glassy. “She liked it a certain way, but I was just trying something different.”
Isabelle glanced down at the bubble mailer. “This was taped under her bed.” She still kept the envelope clutched tightly in her hand.
“Why do you need to give it to Mr. Harper?” I looked down at the envelope and back up to her.
“It has his name on it.” She flipped the parcel, revealing what I assumed was Daniel’s boyish scrawl across the front that said,If found, return to Chance Harper. “He didn’t answer his door.” She looked over to Chance’s apartment door, feet away from mine.
“I can give it to Mr. Harper if you—”
“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I’d like to give it to him myself. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“He’s probably just asleep,” I told her. “Let’s try his door again.” I closed my door behind me and moved down to his, knocking sharply three times. “Mr. Harper, it’s Miss Price.”
I heard some shuffling behind the door, and a moment later, he answered. The clever bastard had thrown on pajamas and messed up his hair, his room dark behind him, making it appear as though he had just woken up. What a show he was putting on. I was delighted at the thought of giving him shit for it later.
“What’s going on?” he asked groggily, eyeing Isabelle curiously peeking out from behind me.
I rolled my eyes at his theatrics—now he was overdoing it. I repeated to Chance what Isabelle had told me, and stepped aside to let her speak to him.
“I know about Daniel…” she said in a low voice, glancing at me sideways, still unsure if I could be trusted.
