I'm Over It (Kihanna in College #2)

by Mercy Amare

  “He’s going to be fine. He has a broken ankle, but it’s nothing serious,” Dad says. “Until Olivia and Brian Asher are caught, we are going into hiding. I don’t know for how long. But, for now, we are going to be separated.”

  “All of us?” I ask.

  “Toby, Veornica and Kailee will be in a remote location, with new identities,” Dad explains. “I will be with you.”

  “Why can’t we be with them?” I ask.

  “It’s not safe,” he says. “Gabe will be flying out soon to meet up with his parents.”

  “Gabe isn’t going to be with us?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Dad says.

  I’m losing everybody I love.

  Kailee.

  Veronica.

  Toby.

  Gabe.

  Ty reaches over and grabs my hand, reminding me that he’s here. At least I will have him and my dad. I won’t be alone.

  The plane starts to move, so I reach down and buckle up for take-off.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I say, fighting to keep the tears back.

  “I promise, everything is going to be okay,” Dad says. “I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Dad,” I say back.

  The plane starts to lift off the ground. Part of me wants to look out the window so I can see Berkeley one more time. It’s only been my home for three months now, but I will miss it. I only wish I could talk to Carter and Andrea one more time—to say goodbye to them.

  I know I will see them again. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later.

  I lean my head over on Ty’s shoulder. For some reason, I feel safe here. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.

  No matter where we go, as long as Ty is there, I will always feel like I’m home.

  The end.

  No Escaping Reality (Kihanna in College, Book 3) is coming December 18, 2015!

  Keep reading for a sneak peak The Academy Introductions (Ghost Bird Series, Book 1) by C.L. Stone!

  As an indie author, I rely heavily on my readers to get the word out about my books. If you loved this story, it would mean the world to me if you left a review where you purchased it!

  If you’d like to keep up to date on my newest releases, sign up for my newsletter: http://goo.gl/50RvNj

  If you would like to talk about the Kihanna Saga with other fans, be sure to join the Kihanna Discussion Group on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/groups/126969870845355/

  Books by Mercy

  New Haven Academy:

  Losing Grip

  Wasting Away

  Kihanna in College:

  The College Life

  I’m Over It

  Moonlit Hills Series:

  Fallout

  East Wood Prep Series:

  Char

  Ali

  Dirty Secrets:

  Season One

  The Rock Star Trilogy:

  Jaded

  Faded

  Hated

  The Kihanna Saga:

  The Fab Life

  I Hate Goodbye

  Stranded in Paradise

  It’s So Obvious

  I Need You

  Stand Alones:

  Don’t Tell

  You Got Me

  Acknowledgements

  First of all, I want to say THANK YOU to my wonderful editor, Janet. In the short time we’ve been working together, I have learned so much from you. I appreciate you so much and look forward to working with you in the future.

  To my husband, we’ve been married for over four years now. It’s crazy to think that this all started because YOU encouraged me. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d be an author. At least not a published one.

  Tess... you’re the one who encouraged me to keep going when things got hard. Also, Brian exists because of YOU! So, thank you. If you weren’t so insistent on there being a “sexy pool boy”, Kihanna wouldn’t be the same ;).

  Joanne Levy, thank you so much for all the hard work you do for me. It’s an honor to be working with you!

  To everybody in the Kihanna Saga Discussion Group, I love talking with you guys. You’re awesome! I love hearing your theories and hearing what you think. I have SO MUCH FUN! Thank you for loving Kihanna as much as I do.

  My readers, you guys are the reason that this is my job. Thank you for buying, reading and reviewing my books. Every day, when I sit at the computer, know that it’s not just for me. It’s for you, too!

  Team Gabe, I truly hope you don’t still hate me! Though, I suppose after this book, you might. Sorry!

  <3 Mercy

  Find me online:

  Website: http://www.mercyamare.net

  Newsletter: http://goo.gl/50RvNj

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormercyamare

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/MercyAmare

  Instagram: http://instagram.com/mercyamare

  Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6464549.Mercy_Amare

  Email: mercyamare@gmail.com

  With an agoraphobic mother and a barely-there father, Sang abhors the isolation keeping her in the shadows. The only thing Sang craves is a fresh start and to be accepted as ordinary by her peers, because for her being different meant being cast out alone.

  When her family moves to a new school district, Sang infiltrates a group of boys nearly perfect in every way. Grateful for an influence outside of her parents’ negativity, she quickly bonds with the boys, hoping to blend in and learn from them what it means to have a natural relationship with friends.

  Only the boys have secrets of their own and they’ll do anything to keep her safe from the knowledge of the mysterious Academy that they've sworn allegiance to. Bit by bit, Sang discovers that her friends are far from the normalcy she expected. Will her loyalty change when she's forced to remain in the dark, or will she accept that she's traded one house of secrets for another?

  Meet Kota, Victor, Silas, Nathan, Gabriel, Luke and North in a story about differences and loyalty, truth and mystery, friendships and heart-throbbing intimacy.

  The Academy, ever vigilant.

  The Academy Introductions

  The Ghost Bird Series

  Book One

  Written by C. L. Stone

  Published by

  Arcato Publishing

  Copyright © 2012 C. L. Stone

  Published by Arcato Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1481814915

  ISBN-13: 978-1481814911

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Max

  My heart thundered under my breast. I was sure my parents could hear me, asleep in their beds inside the two story, gray-siding clad house on Sunnyvale Court.

  Rain puddled at my feet, soaking the dirt of a thousand walks into my off-brand tennis shoes. I usually enjoyed the rain. I liked the feel of walking barefoot through puddles in the grass and the smell of rain mixed with pine trees. Tonight, the rain was cool and the air crisp against my skin for early August in South Carolina. I would be out all night, though, so this was completely bad timing.

  With my toes pointed out to the street, I stood at the edge of the long driveway. A cool wind split through my dark poncho. I wanted to shiver, but I steeled myself and ignored the cold.

  This is it, I told myself. If you’re going to leave, you need to do it now.

  A new house sat half-finished around the bend of Sunnyvale. I’d explored it yesterday while on a walk and discovered the back door was unlocked.

  My hand gripped the straps of my overloaded backpack. One night, I told myself. One night where I’m not sleeping under the same roof as my parents. I’m not going to die, like my mother seems to think I would. Normal people, everyone else in the world,
weren’t all murdered and raped the moment they went outside.

  Thoughts of my bedroom in the house behind me flooded my mind: the soft green comforter, the mauve carpet, the warmth of the cotton sheets, a quiet symphony playing from the stereo. I shook my head at the thought, lifting a hand to my brow to flick away the collection of water there. No. I had already made the decision. Besides, it was too late to turn back. Sneaking out of the house was hard enough to do at night. I wouldn’t want to be caught trying to sneak back in.

  I forced my leg up and out to step foot on the dark pavement of the road. My parents’ house was the newest on the half-circle street, tucked away behind a forest near a new highway. There were only twenty homes in the neighborhood. In front of my parents’ house was an empty lot with room for one more house, but the land was still undeveloped. The rest of the street had several middle income homes and made for a very quiet neighborhood. Unfortunately, the street light was never installed in front of my parents’ home. Even though I knew the blacktop was flat, it made me nervous that I might trip on a stick -- or an ax murderer.

  I stomped my other foot onto the road, turned left and started walking. The wind swept up around my face, and I tucked my head down to brace myself against it. I fell into the deeper shadows of the road, shielded from the glow of neighbors’ outdoor lights. I shivered as a breeze picked up around me.

  Even as my heart continued to pound, I moved forward. Every second I envisioned my sister or my parents waking to find me gone and glancing out the window to spot me. Only I knew better. They probably wouldn’t notice until well into the afternoon that I was nowhere around. The reluctance I felt was only the whispers of my mother echoing in my head.

  A slippery thudding sound started racing toward me. It was so soft at first that I thought it was my own heart. The sound drew closer. I imagined some maniac running barefoot toward me. I stared out into the dark, trying to use the light from the house further up the road to catch whatever it might be. I should move, I thought. I should get out of the way. I willed myself to turn around. A gust of wind swept into my face. My eyes watered.

  A mass hurled itself at me and I fell back. My book bag slipped away from my body and I crashed onto my butt and my left arm. My hand and wrist scraped against the street. Something heavy and wet sat on top of me. A warm, salty breath filled my nose.

  My wild imagination ran through every possibility. Rapist. Murderer. The instinct to scream swept through me but my throat caught and I only gasped. I was paralyzed.

  A slobbering tongue licked my arm and then a soft, cold nose nuzzled it. My heart continued to beat but I finally took a breath, relieved.

  “Hey,” a shout came from up the road, from the direction I had been heading. “Are you okay?”

  My whole body went rigid again. The sound of footsteps came closer and I tried to angle myself out from underneath the dog, but it wouldn’t budge and instead continued to sit on my legs. It barked and then licked my arm again.

  “I’m sorry,” said the voice. “Max, get off of her.” In the shadow of the street, I couldn’t tell who it was. I wasn’t that familiar with the neighbors anyway. The voice was smooth, masculine. While his tone was gentle, there was a strength hidden behind it. Since he wasn’t shouting at me or telling me he would kill me, I tried to calm my heart.

  They’re not as bad as she thinks, I told myself. People aren’t all evil.

  The dog was pulled away from me. The guy knelt by my side. An arm went around my shoulders, lifting me slightly. “Are you hurt?”

  His touch around my shoulder sent a shiver through me that I couldn’t control. It was such a warm gesture and I wasn't used to people touching me. Through my shivering, I felt the pang at my hip where I had fallen. Pain seared through the scrapes on my arm. I coddled it to my chest. “I’m okay,” I said through my teeth. “It’s fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said. The strength in his voice shining through more. “You scraped your arm.” He put another arm around my waist and prepped his knees. “You can stand, right?”

  My cheeks flushed so hot, I could have been glowing. As much as I felt awkward, I was scared to admit that this stranger’s kind hands on me felt so reassuring. “I think so.”

  He pulled me up gently with him until we were standing together. The wind whipped around us. My poncho flew like a flag behind me. He turned his body until his back was against the wind, protecting me from the worst of it. He brought his hands up to cup around my face. “I’m going to take you to my house.”

  It was the first time I noticed the glasses. The light from up the road reflected in them. I still couldn’t guess his age. From what I felt of his body, he was easily a head taller than me and there was some definition to his muscles.

  I blushed at the thought that I had been touching his chest.

  He bent over and picked up my book bag. He grunted at first as he lifted it.

  “Let me take it,” I said.

  “No.” He heaved it over his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around my shoulder and guided me up the street. “Let’s get out of this rain. We’ll assess the damage inside.”

  “What about your dog?”

  “He’ll follow.”

  My heart pounded again as I followed him up the street. My hands shook, my knees quivered. I tried to think calmly, that this was just him being nice. My mother’s voice shot through my head, all her warnings swirled through my mind.

  I could only hope I wasn’t on my way to die.

  Kota

  His house was the first one on the right after the empty lot. I remembered seeing it from my bedroom window. It was a one story, brick, ranch-style home, with a finished room over the two-car garage. The garage door was open, with one car parked inside. Another car was parked in the corner of the wide driveway toward the back. A safety light flicked on automatically as we crossed into the garage, revealing the green poncho he wore. The hood covered most of his face. If I had seen that coming toward me in the night, I would have run, screaming. I wondered if it was wise now to follow him into his house.

  The dog followed us then sat by a crate which was leaning against the wall. He waited, wagging his tail. In the shadows, he looked so big, and I could smell the heady wetness of his fur, making my nose tickle.

  “Not now,” the guy said, waving his hand at the dog. The dog sank to the floor, head on top of one of his paws. The guy hit the button for the garage door to close. The light went out, sinking us into complete darkness, blinding me.

  “Come on,” he said. He took my uninjured arm and pulled me inside. I stumbled in behind him.

  Once we entered the house, there was a short hallway with a wood floor at our feet. The house was dark and I crept along behind him, keeping close to his back, afraid of getting lost. I caught a glimpse of a dining room beyond the hallway. Before we got to it, he opened a door to the left, just before the end of the hall. It opened to a stairwell, with light blue carpeting covering the steps. A dim light shone from somewhere above.

  He started up the stairs. I didn’t know if I should follow, but I didn’t want to be caught downstairs if there were other people in the house.

  Imagining that we were alone in the house also scared me.

  I followed him up. At the top, the bedroom above the garage was spacious. There was a door open to the left that led to a small bathroom. Another door next to it was closed and I guessed it to be a closet. There were windows facing the driveway and one looking out onto the road at the front of the house. The window toward the front had a bench seat with a couple of neatly embroidered pillows in the corners. A bed was pushed up against the wall leaving a huge amount of space in the middle. In the far left corner was a computer desk, monitor turned off. A small bookshelf sat next to it.

  A brass lamp glowed on his desk. He crossed the room, touching it a couple of times and the brightness increased. He turned to me.

  His black-rimmed glasses had droplets of moisture, slightly masking his eyes and a
lmost hid his high cheekbones. His light brown hair stuck to his forehead and at the top of his ears. If I had to guess his age, he might have been a couple years older than I was, if that. He was a head taller than I was, with a medium build and his skin was fair. The way his thin brows angled at the edges made him look curious and constantly interested. His poncho had a Nike swoosh mark and his black Converse shoes looked brand new. If my older sister would have seen him, she would have told me he was a nerd right off. She may have missed the way he was standing upright, shoulders back, with a cool confidence that I could only dream to have. What etched into my mind, though, was the kind smile he had on his face. It warmed me instantly.

  I blushed when I realized he was examining me under the same scrutiny. I imagined I looked like a complete wreck. My dark blond hair was tied up in a small bun in a clip, but half undone and sticking to my neck. My small nose was probably bright red from the surprising chill of the night and my green eyes were probably bloodshot or had heavy bags or both. I was probably as pale as a ghost with the dark poncho sagging around me. My jeans were sticking to my legs, my Sketcher sneakers were discolored from wear and dripping.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should probably have taken my shoes off. They’re soaked.”

  “I’m not worried about the carpet right now. One thing at a time.” He dropped my book bag on the floor by his desk and then moved toward the bathroom door. “Take that poncho off and let’s look at your arm.”