One of Them Girls by Cala Riley (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) 📕

question is, who is going to keep her hands off of me?”

I jump up to hit him, but he takes off out the door.

“Asshole,” I holler at his retreating form.

“You love me.” His words flow back to me.

I give a small smile to the other two guys in the hallway, ignoring their questioning looks. Fuck them. They don’t get to judge.

I close myself back into my room and return to my spot on my bed to go back to studying.

Hey. The woodshop is going to be open tonight.

I smile at the text from my classmate, Grant. I didn’t really know him until two weeks ago, but with enough money, he was willing to help me out on a special project.

What time? I’ll be there.

A couple hours later, I meet Grant at the woodshop.

“You sure about this man?” he asks, counting the money I slipped into his hand.

One thousand dollars. The best money I have ever spent.

“Yeah. I took a woodshop class at the academy, but I don’t know how to use all the stuff. I want this to look perfect. It’s really important.”

He nods. “Let’s get to work then.”

I hand him the haphazardly cut pieces of wood. It’s going to be hard, but I’m not willing to give up on this.

17

Cassi

AirPods in, I jam out to some nineties rap trying to study. I found a corner tucked back into the library and haven’t seen a person since I sat down. I put my phone on, do not disturb, blocking out the world.

You’ve been doing that a lot lately, a little voice in my head says.

It’s been two weeks since I officially broke it off with Xavier. To say it’s been difficult would be an understatement. I still see him occasionally on campus. With Jack deciding to hang around, I sure get enough updates on him.

Truth is, I miss him.

From what Jack says, I know he would take me back in a heartbeat if I just picked up the phone and called him. I can’t do that though.

Even though I denied it, I have some messed-up shit to deal with. I thought I was coping with the death of Ryan, but I wasn’t. I was hiding from it. Xavier helped me take the first steps toward confronting my overwhelming grief, but I’m not there yet.

If I called him now, I would only be using our relationship as a way to avoid those feelings again. That wouldn’t be fair to him or me.

While I hope when I’m ready he is still there, waiting for me, I also know that asking him to do so would be selfish. That’s why I had to let him go.

But you love him.

Shaking the thought away, I fall into nineteenth-century America for my history class. I don’t know how long I throw myself into it, but I startle when a hand touches my knee.

I let out a gasp, pulling my earbuds out.

“What’s up?” I ask a frazzled-looking Rebecca.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says harshly as she pulls my books out of my lap and jamming them into my bag.

“What the hell are you doing? I’m studying,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down.

“We need to leave,” she says, standing with my bag in hand.

“No, we don’t, I need to study.” I pull on my bag, not moving. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I swear to God, Cassandra, I’m sick of your shit. If you want to stay here? Fine, but I’m going to the hospital,” she spews, dropping my bag at my feet.

“Hospital? Why are you going to the hospital?” I frown, watching her retreat.

“Because that’s where Xavier is and someone needs to sit with Jack,” she says over her shoulder.

I scramble, grabbing my bag and chasing after her. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Jack left me a message when I was in class. I didn’t get it until I got out. All he said was Xavier was in an accident and he was on his way to Memorial. I got it about forty minutes after he left it, then spent the last hour trying to find you.”

“Is he okay?” I ask as we rush down the stairs.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if Jack knows. I tried to call him back, but it went to voicemail.” She shrugs as we make it outside. “Hopefully we know more when we get there.”

I let her lead me to her car. I pull up my phone and type out a quick text to Xavier, asking if he’s okay and to please call me. I’m praying he responds, but the longer he goes without answering, the more my heart drops.

If he’s not answering, it means he can’t answer.

A small part is still hoping he’s ignoring me, but I know in my heart that he wouldn’t.

By the time we make it to the hospital, my anxiety is through the roof. I barely wait for the car to stop before I’m out the door. Rebecca is hot on my trail, following behind me.

I rush to the desk, barely stopping as I crash into it.

“Excuse me, one of our friends was brought in a while ago because of an accident. Xavier Walsh,” Rebecca tells the lady behind the desk calmly.

“Are you family?”

I consider lying, but don’t want to be called out.

“No,” I rasp.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t give you any information then.”

My heart seizes in my chest. “Please.” I feel my eyes prickling with tears. “Please tell me something. I’m begging you.”

Her eyes waver. “You’re his girlfriend?” she says in a way that tells me she’s trying to help me out here. “You should have started with that.”

“Sorry, she’s a mess. Yes, she’s his girlfriend.”

“Let me see.” She taps away at her keyboard. “Well, I can’t tell you anything about his condition, but I can tell you what waiting room to go to. Go up to the second floor. On the right, you will see a waiting room for the surgical unit.”

“He’s in surgery?” I screech.

The nurse’s eyes shift to the security