Page 7 of No Easy Catch
It wouldn’t betotallyinsane if it were true. I wasn’t an exemplary student. I hadn’t been the star of anything in high school or involved in so many clubs my resume was three pages long with eight letters of recommendation. Even my parents had expressed their doubts at me applying to one of the best schools in our state. ‘Don’t aim so high, Amber—that way the disappointment won’t be as strong.’
Well, three and a half years later, I’m going to graduate with a better GPA than I had in high school.So take that, haters.
“I’ll make some coffee, but then I’m going to hunker down in my room to get some research done.”
“Ah,research.” Laney dragged the word out for five syllables, making her pitch go two octaves too high. “About our filthy hot and single neighbor.”
“Our out-of-my-league neighbor, that is,” I added, ballparking the measurement of coffee grinds to make a full pot. My dad called it laziness that I didn’t get a scoop and measure exactly the right amount—I called it just fine. No one had complained about my brewing abilities yet.
“Amber, Jeff Maddow isnotout of your league,” Marissa mumbled. “You would actually have totrysomething to actually be shot down from him, and we all know you haven’t.”
Ah, yes. My lack of confidence in dating. A common topic in our household.
“I banned talking about my dating life until February. Off limits.” I leaned against the counter and sighed at the folder of dating apps in my phone. My roommates had made me download them after a disastrous fling that had left me feeling used and smaller than dirt and I hadn’t logged into them. It wasa form of punishment. There had to be the right catchphrase to be interesting, and the profile pictures had to be classy but sexy.
I had never been called classy or sexy in my entire life. But that was neither here nor there. I had bigger things to worry about than my lack of happily-ever-afters. A scandal that might or might not involve me and my Uncle Martin.Thattook precedence.
“Let me know if you’re dying or something, but I’ll be busy for a couple of hours.”
They didn’t respond and I brought coffee in my favorite mug up to my room. Research phase had begun.How I got into school.
It took an hour or so to find all the old materials saved in the cloud—four years ago seemed way longer than I cared to admit. But I found it all saved in a folder. At least I’d been organized online at eighteen.
It seemed normal. I’d filled out an application, sent my transcripts, written an essay—I thought—and hit Submit. Then I’d gotten a letter saying I was in wait, got called in for an interview and got accepted.None of that seems fishy…yet.
Who did I interview with? I started making notes containing the names of people who’d been involved. The dean of admissions, the academic advisors for those declaring communication majors and an alumnusDean Sanders.God, that name was familiar. A couple of searches later, nothing popped up and I let out a frustrated sigh.
I’d have to circle back to this process. Next item on the list—internet stalking Max Miller, Cooper Killian and Dillon Cage. Maybe something would magically appear or stand out.Because I want to reach out to Jeff?
Don’t be an idiot.
“Gah!” I shook my head, refocusing, and got to work. Social media kept more information than we’d care to admit andteenagers weren’t the brightest when it came to privacy setups. Dillon and Max might have their account private, but their friends’ weren’t andbam. I was in, seeing their posts.
Interesting that they’re still at the school, living life and not showing any signs of an injury.Jeff had been right about that.Dillon liked girls. Lots of them. In every picture he was shirtless with a different chick on his arm and that was something I could use. I jotted the information down. It was officially the note-gathering stage of the search and while my skin tingled with an almost electric excitement at uncovering a truth, my gut tightened. Each oddity meant that Jeff accusations could have merit.
Only one way to find out.
Create account? Yes, please.
It took less than ten minutes for me doctor a photo of myself that looked somewhat sexy—I included a lot of cleavage—and hid my identity. Hit following on a hundred people, got some auto-follows back, and took a chance.
SportsDiva:I’ve heard a lot about you, Dillon. Can I ask you a question?
Dillon:Name it, baby, only if I can ask you a question.
SportsDiva:I was told you got a spot on the baseball team. I’m really bendy for athletes…
Dillon:I like bendy.
Oh god,boys were idiots.
Dillon:I was a sports recruit during my freshman year but played too hard and got injured. Are you good at taking care of people in bed?
SportsDiva:Oh yeah.
Okay,now I was out of my league. How did I get more information from him and remain sexy? Shit. I really didn’t want to do it… I didn’t. But I accepted a little defeat and texted the number Jeff left with me.
Amber:I need help. Are you free?
