Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) Elizabeth Hayley (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For not getting pissed. Some guys would’ve… Well, I don’t wanna think about what some guys would’ve done.”

“Then don’t,” I told her. We stared at each other for a few more moments before I spoke again. “I’m gonna go. You go back to Sophia’s party and enjoy Darius and a few more drinks.”

I wasn’t sure what made me tell her to “enjoy” Darius, and it was clear she wasn’t sure either. But both of us knew better than to bring it up. We weren’t anything.

Or really we just weren’t anything together.

Chapter Seventeen

T A Y L O R

I closed my eyes as I sat in the empty coffee shop near my apartment and tried to visualize myself doing something—anything—fun.

Well, maybe that wasn’t fair. Forensic psychology was probably a lot of fun for the students who were meeting with the professor in the classroom. But it definitely lost some of its luster online. Without the ability to discuss and debate case studies in real time, the topic simply wasn’t as fascinating as I’d thought it would be when I signed up for it.

Oh well. There was nothing to do but get through it at this point. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t learning anything. I just wasn’t learning it as dynamically as I wished I were.

I sighed, reprimanding myself mentally for being negative. I’d woken up in a funk that I hadn’t been able to shake all day. I’d thought getting out of my apartment and doing some of my work at the coffee shop would be a nice change of pace, but instead, I found myself being distracted by every noise around me. And then I got irritated that the place was so distracting, even though it was my fault for having the attention span of a gnat.

Taking a deep breath, I refocused on my laptop. I had to be at Safe Haven in two hours, and I was damn well going to be productive for at least half of that time. I scrolled through the online textbook, taking notes on the notebook beside me as I went. The text was interactive and allowed for note taking on the screen, but I always remembered things better when I wrote them down.

I’d made it at least five minutes before my phone dinged with a text alert. Goddammit! Clearly the universe was against me.

“I’m not going to look at it. Just gonna keep on working,” I muttered to myself like I was one of the psychopaths I was learning about.

My intentions were good. I wanted to ignore it. But then I started to obsess about who it could be, and that made focusing even more impossible.

“Fine, I’ll just look who it’s from,” I whispered to myself as I unlocked my phone so I could view the message. “Then I’ll get back to work.”

But when I looked down at my screen, I knew there was no way I’d be getting any more work done. It was from another unknown number—probably because I’d blocked the other—but there was no doubt who’d sent it. Because filling my screen was a selfie of Brad, smiling widely, with the caption Guess who’s in town? Can’t wait to see you.

What. The. Fuck? Goose bumps spread across my skin, and I shivered.

This couldn’t be happening. I clicked on the picture to enlarge it, and I nearly threw up.

Brad hadn’t just sent me a random selfie. He’d sent me one from the Treehouse. He seemed to even be at the table Sophia and the gang had sat in when they’d come in. I could even see Gail in the background.

My heart was hammering in my chest as my breaths started to come out in short, harsh pants. I stood up quickly, making the chair I’d been sitting in clatter to the ground behind me. I didn’t even waste time to right it. Instead, I grabbed my stuff and hauled ass out of there.

I made it to the end of the block before I had to lean against the brick wall of some apartment building. I forced breaths in and out.

This wasn’t the first panic attack I’d had over the past year, but it felt like the worst. Doubling over, I tried to focus on my breathing. Deep breath in. Hold. Let it out slowly.

I felt my body starting to relax slightly, but then it occurred to me that I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings. What if he was watching? What if he was following me back to my apartment? What if he was already at my apartment?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I needed to get control, but my brain was spiraling. Without even consciously thinking about it, I tried to focus on my phone, which I’d had in a death grip since leaving the shop. Calling Sophia would be the smart thing to do. She already knew what was going on and would come if I needed her.

But as if my fingers had a life of their own, they stopped on another name. I pressed Call without contemplating what I was doing.

“Hey,” Ransom said, his voice soft and welcoming. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“I—I need, I can’t…” My brain was whirring so frantically it was difficult to find the words I needed.

“Taylor,” he said, all softness gone from his voice. “Where are you?”

I was so thankful he’d asked a direct question with a simple answer, I nearly wept. Though I was pretty sure I was already crying. That or I was sweating profusely. Or I guess both were possible.

“My apartment.” Not entirely accurate, but I was close. I could be there in under five minutes.

“I’m on my way. Just sit tight and try to breathe. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“’Kay,” I managed to force out.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

God, did I ever. But I also knew he had to drive, and I’d likely freaked