Page 104 of Baby Girl
This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.
Seriously fucking stupid.
Like, why? Do I really need to get my sketchpad back? So what if it is the only record of my life that I have access to? I’m moving forward with my new life now. The past is in the past.
I glance at the emergency stop button on the elevator panel.
The bright red button. Just sitting there. Innocently. Like it’s never been pushed a day in its life.
I could press the button for the lobby and go straight back down, then go to the mall. There’s still time.
The elevator pings, the doors open to the nineteenth floor, and I stare down the long-ass hallway until they start to shut before jolting into action and squeezing through the gap. Which is stupid because, as soon as the doors sense someone is there, they just reopen anyway.
With a heart hammering hard enough to break concrete, I head down the hallway, my sneakers barely making any noise on the carpeted floor. Every noise from the apartments that I pass makes the tension inside of me tighten.
Logically, I know I’m not going to get caught.
They have no reason to be here. They told me they don’t usually bring people back to their apartment, so why would they be in the apartment, alone, on a Friday night? And besides, they should still all be on campus—well, except for Xavier. I’m safe.
Besides Derek collecting my things while I was in the hospital, I was the last person to actually stay in the apartment. And given that fact that he hasn’t updated me on the whereabouts of my art supplies, I think it can be reasonably assumed that he never came to check the apartment. Which means, I need to be the one to do the checking.
I’ll get in, get my stuff, and get out.
And then I can go back to my regular form of therapy and sketch the icky feeling of today away.
Waking up alone was just the start of what turned out to be an incredibly long day. Xavier’s note and the gift from Hudson tookthe edge off a little, but my skin has felt uncomfortably tight, like it doesn’t quite belong to me, all day.
Having to sit through classes after my interrupted sleep was only marginally improved by the fact that I was brace-free. Being able to type with both hands properly is a luxury I will never take for granted again. Let alone all the other everyday tasks, like showering, cooking, eating.
The onlykind ofinteresting part of my day was when Will brought up the Barbie party tomorrow night. We’d been texting on and off all morning around his training and our classes. Our conversations are much easier now, less strained. Which is good. Because tomorrow night, I think I might, potentially, hook up with him. Maybe.
I’m not settled on it yet. But, yeah, parties are where people go to do that sort of thing, and I know he’s interested in me like that. If I surround myself with other people hooking up, I’m hoping their vibes will rub off on me, and I’ll be able to hook up with Will.
I just need to know if I can. I know I can with Xavier, but I’m scared that maybe I’m reaching for something from before, instead of moving on with my life. Will could be my future. And I just need to know, one way or another.
And with Xavier being gone for the entire weekend, I’m going to be able to have some clarity in my life, especially when it comes to being with Will. I can put everything daddy related in a box for one night and try to be a regular college student, going to a party with a guy who likes her.
Then I’ll have the information I need to make decisions about my life.
Before I’m ready, I’m confronted by the apartment door.
I stand there, not raising my hand to swipe the card against the security panel. Nope. I just stare at the numbers above the peephole.
Nineteen twenty-one.
Just thinking about the weekends I spent here, waiting for them to show up, like a desperate and forgotten puppy, makes me twitch with secondhand embarrassment. What the fuck was I thinking? Seriously.
They were never going to come for me.
My heart pangs heavily in my chest at the memories. Fuck.
I raise the card and swipe, ignoring the slight tremble, and for one heartstopping moment, I think it won’t flash green. When it does, I let out a heavy breath and swallow over the lump that has formed in my throat.
Slowly, I open the door, and when nothing but darkness greets me, I push through it with the confidence that no one is inside. Flicking the light switch as I pass, the apartment lights up, and I confirm that I’m alone.
Not wanting to waste time with putting my things down, I stride straight over to the couch.
Except, my art supplies aren’t there.
