Page 60 of Devious Obsession
I stay silent, and the counselor continues his notes. He doesn’t seem bothered by my unwillingness to speak. He exudes calmness, and it’s driving me crazy. I sit there and stare at him writing god knows what. I fidget with my hands, pick at my nails. My heels drum into the wall.
Time passes so freaking slowly, untilfinally, his phone chimes.
He scans the screen quickly. His focus returns to me. “Our time is up, Aspen. Although I hope to see you again. If anything, I can refer you to a specialist outside of school.”
Thank god it’s over. I take a deep breath and rise.
I grab my bag and march out of the office without a backward glance. Mandatory counseling, my ass. Luckily, they’re only making me go to one.
I’ve got an email on my phone from the financial aid office. I scan it, my stomach knotting. They want to see me as soon as possible. They’re down a floor, I think. I wander until I find it, the glass-walled office sleek and efficient-looking. And cold.
The receptionist takes my name and points to a chair along the wall. My advisor will be out shortly. I’ve never met the person, so I’m not sure what to expect. It certainly isn’t the matronly woman, her steel-gray hair pulled back into a bun, who comes bustling out from an office. She’s got the classic chilly-all-the-time vibe, wearing a cardigan over her plum-colored dress, thick socks and boots hiding her legs.
She motions for me to follow, and we step into a small office. There’s a space heater on the floor, directed at her chair, and she smiles warmly when we’re both seated.
“So, Aspen. We’re halfway through the first semester, and I was informed today that your funding for the second semester would not be covered.” She frowns. “This is highly unusual, but nothing to worry about. We just need to know how you’ll be paying.”
I stop. “What do you mean, it’s not covered? Did my—” I hesitate. “Did my stepdad call you?”
“Mr. O’Brien did let us know, yes.” She has a sympathetic expression. “He tried to confirm your withdrawal from the school, but that’s not our department. And unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about the funding at this stage…”
My stomach knots, and I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. I should’ve expected this, but he moved a little faster than I thought. I mean, the asshole didn’t even call me.
“What…” I clear my throat. “What are my options?”
She slides a folder toward me, with clear Crown Point University marketing on it. This is probably what they give all their accepted, prospective students. I open it and flip through the pages tucked inside. A guide to applying for financial aid, a list of ‘helpful’ tips for budgeting, et cetera.
“You can try to apply for financial aid—grants, loans—for next semester. However, most of our allocation is decided over the summer. I would suggest reapplying for aid next semester to cover your final year.” She slides me a box of tissues. “It’s okay if you’re upset.”
I stare at the tissue poking out of the top. “I’m not upset,” I say slowly. “I’mpissed.”
She sits back. “Oh. Um—”
“Not at you.” I rise. “When do I need to pay?”
“Before the start of next semester. I can file for an extension, give you until the end of January—”
“I’ll let you know.” I swing my bag over my shoulder and book it out of there. Once I’m free of that cold, depressing office, I head straight to the elevator. With it being during a class period, it’s quiet in the halls. The elevator arrives empty, and I stand silently in it until the doors close.
The scream that tears out of my mouth has been building for hours.
It echoes in the small space, bouncing around me, but it feels so good to let it out. I scream until my voice is hoarse and my throat burns. The elevator stops, and I lick my lips. My breathing is ragged, but I don’t give a shit.
Steele’s been targeting me since I told him I was passing information back to his father. His father, who told me that my way was paid as long as I was useful.
Does that mean I’m no longer useful?
Or… trustworthy?
I shudder. It seems awfully convenient timing. The website, my address being leaked, and now this. Steel’s been making everything worse for me, butthisseems to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The camel being his father.
The idea of giving in to the O’Briens makes my head hurt.
Letting Steele win isn’t an option.
17
STEELE
