I’d breezed an access course in accounting over the summer, but my heart was in math. It was clean and pure, and in my world of gray, it was black and white. If I had any chance at building a future, then I needed qualifications.
The dread of being caught was always ever present though. I guessed that Frank was looking for me but getting my degree was worth the risk. If I committed to staying in one place long enough to finish university, I had to keep a low profile. It was my best chance of evading him. So I did what I’d always done. I made no eye contact and never initiated conversation.
It had worked in high school, but university was a completely different kettle of fish. The guys here were relentless. Politely turning down unwanted advances, without causing offense, had become an art form that I’d perfected. It was the safest way to live, but I was lonely. There were days that I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to call a friend. In lecture room three, on that frosty Tuesday afternoon, I got just that.
“This seat taken?”
I looked down at cherry red leather boots with a killer heel and looked up to see that the voice belonging to them liked to coordinate her cherry red hair with her outfit. Clearly I was more than backward when it came to accessorizing. My hair didn’t go with anything.
“Um…” I looked around, desperate to say yes, hoping to remain as anonymous as possible. The lecture theater was only a third full, at best, and there was no reason why this girl would want to sit next to me. She wore a denim miniskirt, a fitted black top, and a leather jacket that I would have given my left arm for. With the killer boots and her glossy hair layered artfully around her face, she looked edgy and hot. No wonder half the man-geeks were drooling. My first thought was that she was in the wrong place.
“No,” I replied. Could I have been more socially inept? If she was in the right place, it looked like she’d be beating off the guys with a stick, so what better place to take cover than beside the only other girl in the room.
“Nikki Martin,” she said, sliding into the adjoining seat.
“Sorry?” I mumbled.
“I’m Nikki Martin,” she stated, expectantly awaiting a response.
“Oh, hi,” I replied, as I went back to copying down the equation from the projector.
“Oh, my God, you really are one of them,” she laughed, teasingly.
“One of them?” I answered, glancing up in confusion.
“The freaks who only speak in numbers and have no social skills whatsoever.”
“Wow, rude much?” Oh, my God! I’ve never been confrontational, ever, but with this girl, it just slipped out.
She laughed again, probably at the look of sheer horror on my face. “So the kitten has claws. You know, you and me are going to get on just fine.”
I had no idea what to say to that. This girl was like a beautiful steamroller.
“Okay, a name would be good about now, unless you want me to call you Mathlexy all term.”
“Mathlexy?” Yep, I was getting good at repeating everything she said back to her as a question.
“I can tell you’re a math fiend by the stack of handwritten notes you’ve got there, and you’re the sexiest thing this lot has probably ever seen.”
She gestured around the lecture hall, and I wasn’t convinced that the guys would actually wait until the end of class to pounce on her. The wide-eyed looks of disbelief, appreciation, and finally hunger reminded me of starving hyenas, eyeing up their appetizer. I giggled at the image and snorted through my nose at the absurdity of the name. Snorting was neither sexy nor attractive.
“Emily McCarthy,” I offered up in return, hopeful of rejecting that ridiculous nickname before anyone heard it. The last name was new. I’d only had it for a year, and I was still getting used to it. But I figured that keeping my first name wouldn’t hurt. Emily was a pretty common name, and people got suspicious if you didn’t answer to your name when called because you didn’t know it.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Emily McCarthy,” she answered.
By the end of the lecture, I had three sides of crisp clean notes, and Nikki had half a page and some lovely heart and floral murals.
“What’s your next class?” she asked, as we were stuffing things into our bags.
“I don’t have another one for a couple of hours,” I replied. “I was just going to the library to study.”
“Perfect, I have a couple of hours free. Let’s go and grab a coffee. My treat.”
She looped her arm through mine and all but dragged me out, clearly not caring about my plans.
Latte, espresso, tall, fat, mocha, grande. The board in front of me laid out the endless possible taste sensations, and I agonized over my decision. I loved coffee, but on my budget, regular coffee at Daisy’s was about as good as it got. So if this was my treat for the month, then I was going to make the most of it.
“Come on, Em,” Nikki moaned, “I’m growing old here!”
“A cappuccino, please,” I ordered quickly. The barista handed me my drink, and I pulled out the chair next to Nikki.
She took a long sip of her coffee, sighed deeply, and turned to me. “So…the whole social hermit thing. Is it just for a term or are you committed for life?”
Also by R.J. Prescott
The Hurricane
About the Author
R. J. Prescott was born in Cardiff, South Wales, and studied law at the University of Bristol, England. Four weeks before graduation, she fell in love, and stayed. Ten years later, she convinced her crazy, wonderful firefighter husband to move back to Cardiff where they now live with their two equally crazy sons. Juggling work, writing, and family doesn’t leave a lot of time, but curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate for family movie night is definitely the best part of R. J. Prescott’s week. She loves to hear from readers so contact her at:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/rjprescottauthor
Twitter: @rjprescottauth
Website: http://rjprescott.com
Email: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Title Page
Welcome
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
An Excerpt from THE HURRICANE
Also by R.J. Prescott
About the Author
Copyright
PIATKUS
First published in the US in 2015 by Forever, an imprint of Grand Central Publishing
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Piatkus
Copyright © 2015 by R. J. Prescott
Excerpt from The Hurricane © 2014 by R. J. Prescott
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN 978-0-3
49-41133-0
Piatkus
An imprint of
Little, Brown Book Group
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.piatkus.co.uk
The Aftermath Page 25