a fight. Her arms and hands pulsed with the
desire to hurt her so-called friend, that bitch screaming bullshit
in the middle of the night, in the center of a frat house lawn.
“Don’t you say another fucking word.” She was quivering. Her words
seethed through clenched teeth. Was everyone betraying her, now?
For things she hadn’t even done? For things she may have done, but
didn’t know she’d done? She felt her fury at the injustice of it
all threatening to rupture right through her.
Millie clamped her mouth closed, but her eyes
said everything.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Trisha
snarled.
“You have no idea how much is wrong with me,”
Millie said flatly. She looked as though she wanted to say
something more. Instead, she walked past Trisha and disappeared
into the shadows alongside the house.
Trisha stood trembling in a patch of feeble
light from the kitchen window. She didn’t want to turn around again
for fear she would see the same ghostly heads, or even more of
them, knocking together in excited gossip as they stared out at
her, wondering who that fucking fool was, abandoned in the backyard
of Wicker House, the one place on campus where nobody ended up
alone. She didn’t get it. She just didn’t get it. She was
struggling to think—how long had Millie been acting like that? She
couldn’t remember. Had she been totally oblivious? Or had Millie
just been playing the martyr, wanting her to fucking mind-read?
And here she was again. Knocked on her ass,
with no clue how she got there. She dreaded going back to her room,
where she would lie awake and have to suffer from a pounding head
that couldn’t give her any answers.
As she wavered on the hard-packed ground,
cursing the ugly gazebo that slouched before her, she felt her
phone vibrate.
She had three missed calls and a voicemail.
From Rusty.
Panic radiated through her chest. It was as
if he knew that she’d betrayed him. She listened to his message,
hugging the phone to her ear to look occupied as she left Wicker
House behind.
Where have you been? What
are you doing? I’ve been trying to get you, the message said . I’ve been
gone —(No shit,
Sherlock)— and I want to talk to you. I
need to explain some things.
Now he wanted to explain things? Trisha trudged up the sidewalk
in the dark. The temperature had dropped to freezing. She played
Rusty’s message twice, three times, four times. A couple of cars
passed slowly, halting her heart, but they continued on up the hill
toward the main campus. Her nose was running.
It was all wrong. Hideously wrong. And
thinking about the amount of energy she would have to devote to
unraveling this monstrous knot of disaster made her feel entirely
helpless and exhausted.
Trisha sat down on the stone wall that curved
up steeply toward the college’s main entrance. In the haunting
silence, she cried bitter, cold tears.
About the Author
After earning a master’s degree in secondary
education from UNC, Elizabeth Nelson worked abroad teaching
English, bar-tended at late night clubs in Chicago, and continues
various philanthropy projects that focus on empowering women. But
her love of writing never changed.
Want to see what happens next with Trisha
and Rusty? Forbidden Desire coming to Barnes & Noble soon!
Trisha can’t decide if she should turn and
run from Rusty or give him the chance to explain his half truths
and full lies. She’s opened herself up to vulnerability, while he’s
remained closed off and fed her stories that have come back to bite
him.
And not only her lack of trust is tearing
them apart, but there are others who seem to want to bring them
down—out of spite or jealousy. They know their desires are anything
but safe, forbidden by the school and scorned by the students.
When Rusty comes clean about his lies,
Trisha starts getting her confidence back that she’s heading down
the right
desire to hurt her so-called friend, that bitch screaming bullshit
in the middle of the night, in the center of a frat house lawn.
“Don’t you say another fucking word.” She was quivering. Her words
seethed through clenched teeth. Was everyone betraying her, now?
For things she hadn’t even done? For things she may have done, but
didn’t know she’d done? She felt her fury at the injustice of it
all threatening to rupture right through her.
Millie clamped her mouth closed, but her eyes
said everything.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Trisha
snarled.
“You have no idea how much is wrong with me,”
Millie said flatly. She looked as though she wanted to say
something more. Instead, she walked past Trisha and disappeared
into the shadows alongside the house.
Trisha stood trembling in a patch of feeble
light from the kitchen window. She didn’t want to turn around again
for fear she would see the same ghostly heads, or even more of
them, knocking together in excited gossip as they stared out at
her, wondering who that fucking fool was, abandoned in the backyard
of Wicker House, the one place on campus where nobody ended up
alone. She didn’t get it. She just didn’t get it. She was
struggling to think—how long had Millie been acting like that? She
couldn’t remember. Had she been totally oblivious? Or had Millie
just been playing the martyr, wanting her to fucking mind-read?
And here she was again. Knocked on her ass,
with no clue how she got there. She dreaded going back to her room,
where she would lie awake and have to suffer from a pounding head
that couldn’t give her any answers.
As she wavered on the hard-packed ground,
cursing the ugly gazebo that slouched before her, she felt her
phone vibrate.
She had three missed calls and a voicemail.
From Rusty.
Panic radiated through her chest. It was as
if he knew that she’d betrayed him. She listened to his message,
hugging the phone to her ear to look occupied as she left Wicker
House behind.
Where have you been? What
are you doing? I’ve been trying to get you, the message said . I’ve been
gone —(No shit,
Sherlock)— and I want to talk to you. I
need to explain some things.
Now he wanted to explain things? Trisha trudged up the sidewalk
in the dark. The temperature had dropped to freezing. She played
Rusty’s message twice, three times, four times. A couple of cars
passed slowly, halting her heart, but they continued on up the hill
toward the main campus. Her nose was running.
It was all wrong. Hideously wrong. And
thinking about the amount of energy she would have to devote to
unraveling this monstrous knot of disaster made her feel entirely
helpless and exhausted.
Trisha sat down on the stone wall that curved
up steeply toward the college’s main entrance. In the haunting
silence, she cried bitter, cold tears.
About the Author
After earning a master’s degree in secondary
education from UNC, Elizabeth Nelson worked abroad teaching
English, bar-tended at late night clubs in Chicago, and continues
various philanthropy projects that focus on empowering women. But
her love of writing never changed.
Want to see what happens next with Trisha
and Rusty? Forbidden Desire coming to Barnes & Noble soon!
Trisha can’t decide if she should turn and
run from Rusty or give him the chance to explain his half truths
and full lies. She’s opened herself up to vulnerability, while he’s
remained closed off and fed her stories that have come back to bite
him.
And not only her lack of trust is tearing
them apart, but there are others who seem to want to bring them
down—out of spite or jealousy. They know their desires are anything
but safe, forbidden by the school and scorned by the students.
When Rusty comes clean about his lies,
Trisha starts getting her confidence back that she’s heading down
the right
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