Desperately Devastated (Addicted To You, Book Nine) by Lucy Covington Page B

year.” But he was pulling his iPad out of his bag and scrolling through his email. “It’s Flight 2985. Out of Boston tonight.”
    “I’ll book it,” I said. “You tell Klaxton. And the science department can reimburse me later.” I had no idea how much a flight from Boston to New York was going to cost, especially on such short notice. But I had a credit card my parents had given me for emergencies, and if this wasn’t an emergency, I wasn’t sure what was. I mean, my whole academic future was on the line here. Or at least my reputation.
    “You sure?” Carter was looking at me skeptically.
    “I’m sure.”
    “Okay.” He grinned, and just like that, the tension between us dissipated. “I’ll text you what time the car service is picking us up for the airport.”
    My mouth went dry. “Is Klaxton riding over with us?”
    Carter laughed. “No way. He takes a limo.”
    I nodded. “Figures.” I brushed my hair out of my face. “Well, I guess I should probably go pack.”
    “Okay,” Carter nodded. “I’ll see you a little later.”
    “See ya.” I turned and started to walk away. Holy crap! I was going to New York City. Tonight. I’d never been to New York City. What was I supposed to wear?
    My thoughts started to swirl and I resisted the urge to turn and start running back to my dorm room. No way I wanted to be seen as so uncool that I would just start running down the streets of Harvard Square.
    “Lindsay!” Carter called after me.
    I turned around. “Yeah?”
    He smiled. “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” I smiled back.
    And then I thought, screw it. I turned around and started to run.

    ***
    When I got back to the dorms, Rachel was dying her hair.
    In our room.
    Bottles and potions were lined up on her desk, and there was a bowl filled with a thick blue paste sitting on the floor. Rachel was sitting down there next to it. Her hair was piled up on her head, and she was painting the paste onto it with a small brush.
    “Hey!” she said brightly when she saw me. “I’m dying my hair!”
    “Yeah, I see that.” I set my bag down gently on my desk chair. “But, um, shouldn’t you be doing that in the bathroom?”
    “I was doing it in the bathroom,” she said. “But that awful girl from down the hall came in and was giving me a hard time. You know, the one who’s always trying to cut the line in the cafeteria and wears those One Direction shirts ironically even though no one knows that?” She rolled her eyes. “Can you believe her? I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t going to clean up my mess. But I think I should be nice to her, because she’s obviously been through something traumatic, don’t you think? Otherwise she wouldn’t be so awful.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Definitely.” I had no idea who she was talking about. I also wasn’t sure why Rachel thought it was okay to be dying her hair right in our room when obviously she was making a mess. But I wasn’t going to refute her. We had just made up and if she wanted to dye her hair and wreck our room in the process, then I was more than happy to let her.
    “There!” Rachel finished painting her hair with the dye and stood up. A blob of paste fell off of her head and landed on the floor. “Oops,” she said and then bent down and wiped it up. She straightened back up and looked at herself in the mirror. “How do you think I’ll look as a redhead?”
    “Hot.” I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. I pulled out my phone and looked at the text Carter had sent me on my way over here, the one that gave me my flight details for tonight. “How come you’re dying your hair red, anyway?” I knew there had to be a reason. Rachel didn’t do things just to do them. Her sudden desire to change her appearance probably had something to do with an article she’d read, or some mythological creature that had inspired her.
    “Because Adam likes redheads.”
    “Oh.” I tried not to let her see my surprise, and instead kept my