My Roommate's Girl by Julianna Keyes

Author:Julianna Keyes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult, college, sexy, romance, humorous romance, bad boy, college romance, coming of age
Publisher: Julianna Keyes
Published: 2017-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

29

Aster

I can count on one hand the number of pieces of paper mail I’ve received this year, so as I walk past the row of mailboxes on my way to the elevator, I do an exaggerated double-take when I spot the edge of a white envelope peeking through the glass on my box.

I dig out my keys from my pocket and retrieve the envelope, staring at the handwritten address in confusion. It’s made out to Aster Lindsey at Holsom College, then the town name and state. No zip code. No building name or room number. But there’s a stamp, and it couldn’t have gotten into the mailbox without following the official channels.

I don’t know why I feel nervous, but as I unseal the flap during the ride up in the elevator, my heart starts to pound. Who would write me a letter? I don’t have any prison penpals. I don’t have anybody.

Once in my room, I lock the door and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the opened envelope. Then, with trembling fingers, I pull out the single sheet of lined paper waiting inside.

Aster, I read. It’s me.

I fold the paper in half, and in half again, then cram it back into the envelope and drop it on the floor, like it’s possessed and folding it up a bunch of times will help.

It’s from my father.

He knows I’m at Holsom because when I got accepted to the school, they wouldn’t send the enrolment documents to the prison and I had to give them a home address. I didn’t know where my mother was living so I gave them my dad’s address and he passed along the papers. No message, no note, just a forwarding stamp on the front of the envelope, followed by the prison address.

I have no idea why he would be trying to contact me now, and if the sweat pooling in the small of my back and my shallow breathing and my tiny heart attack are any indication, I don’t want to know.

I’ve only seen him once since the night I fled with my mom and Ramsay. We didn’t have enough money to go far, so we just lived on the opposite side of town and stuck to the sketchier corners we knew he didn’t visit. About a year after we’d left I was leaving a drug store with a two hundred dollar store credit to my name, when I almost walked into him in the parking lot.

He’d steadied me with a hand on each shoulder, holding my gaze as I stared up at him in terror. “Watch it,” he said, then let go of me and continued walking, like he hadn’t recognized me at all.

I crumple the envelope and toss it toward the trash can near the desk. It bounces off the rim and rolls under the radiator, lurking in the shadows, a trite metaphor for my tragic back story.

I grab my textbooks out of my bag and start to read. This is my life now.

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