Page 9 of 3rd and 4 (Season of Change #3)

Motherfucker!

I press the button to alert campus security that sits about waist level on the lamppost. I take out my phone and snap pictures of the despicable display, then tear down the picture of Daya, her bra, and panties. I’m shaking with anger, having to retake a few of the pictures.

Fury. White, hot, all-consuming rage.

With a deep breath to calm myself, I grab Daya and turn her into my side and cover her while she cries. It hurt to listen to her at the stadium, to feel her little body tremble, but this…deep, shuddering sobs…

I want them to burn for this.

I don’t say anything, don’t try to quiet her.

There is nothing I can say to make this better.

She was violated and I can’t take away or fix the damage this has done to her.

She’s mentioned more than once that others have always treated her differently, keeping her at a distance.

She’s focused and driven and incredibly talented and that scares people.

Intimidates them. And when you’re dealing with kids and teens, it’s easier to lash out than deal with your own insecurities.

But we’re in college. You’d think the young adults who attend university would be capable of dealing with their inadequacies in a more constructive way. Not stealing someone’s clothes, ID, keys, and phone and plastering their undergarments and unflattering pictures for all to see.

Daya hasn’t done anything to anyone. She’s kept her head down, remained polite, respectful despite a few of the cheer squad giving her a hard time.

And I know that those same individuals are responsible for this.

This is beyond a harmless prank, this is ruthless and unnecessary.

Daya is gifted, but she works so hard, she pushes herself to be better than she was the day before.

Many others on the team have responded well to that, pushing themselves a little harder.

Fucking Shaye. Lindsay. Jillian.

A campus security vehicle approaches with their lights flashing. I don’t know either of them, but I hope they are understanding and helpful. Daya can’t take anymore shit today and I’m about to lose the paper-thin control on my temper.

“Did you call for assistance?” The man asks, his tone calm, reassuring.

“Miss? Are you alright?” The female questions in a soft voice, inching closer to where Daya is burrowed into my body. Her body shakes, her head shifts back and forth against my chest.

I explain what we found and show them the pictures I took on my phone and where I discarded the evidence. I also mention that we filed a report with Brody Zeigler at the stadium and he’s looking into the security footage.

“Daya? I’m sure he’s very warm and comfy, but could you talk to us for a minute?

” Daya sighs, so loud it makes me grin, then detaches herself from me and wipes under her eyes as she faces the security guards.

“I’m going to ask you for some personal information.

I need to verify your identity with the campus database.

Once I do that, we’ll get you into your building and into your dorm room so you can relax.

” Daya gives her full name, date of birth, social security number.

The guards successfully pull up her student profile, including her photo, then unlock the main doors of her building.

The desk clerk is kind, giving her a temporary key card to access her room.

“We’ll call you as soon as we have a chance to review the footage outside the dorms. And we’ll confer with Zeigler since this started at the stadium. If we are able to find out who’s responsible, do you want to press charges with the police?”

Daya looks up at me with doe eyes, an immense sadness in their depths that breaks my heart all over again. I nod and answer for her, “Yes, we do.”

“Go on up, then. Relax, try to get some sleep. We’ll let you know when we find anything.”

“Thank you.” Daya whispers, her head resting against my chest, my arm tight around her shoulders.

“Thank you both.” I shake their hands, then thank the desk clerk as well.

We take the elevator to her floor. The air thick, my entire body strung tight with tension.

This is not how I wanted to see her room for the first time.

“Itty Bitty, grab your pajamas and get changed. Wash your face or brush your hair or teeth, anything to feel a little more normal. I’m gonna order dinner. ”

“You don’t—”

“Are you my girl?” She nods with a hint of a smile. “Then I’m gonna take care of you and that includes feeding you.” Stepping toe to toe with me, she arches her neck and taps her lips as they pucker. I’m laughing as our lips connect, and I smile into our kiss.

“Thank you, Elijah. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“You don’t need to find out.” I pat her firm ass and urge her on her way. She squeaks, grabs a change of clothes and disappears into her bathroom, softly closing the door behind her.

I force myself to breathe. If it wasn’t for me, she probably wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. Shaye has taken a personal exception to Daya’s existence, but my attention has only made it worse. I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, grinding my teeth in frustration.

I know Shaye is responsible. I know it. But I don’t know if I can prove it. I might hate her, but she isn’t stupid. And not stupid enough to leave a trail to get caught.

I push aside my feelings and smile at Daya when she shyly opens her bathroom door, stepping out with her head down.

She’s wearing the cutest pajamas, a button down short sleeved shirt and matching shorts with Grogu from The Mandalorian all over them.

As cute as she is, I don’t like that she’s not wearing my clothes anymore.

It’s impractical, yes, but caveman emotions are not supposed to be practical.

I pat her bed, and quote The Mandalorian , “This is the way.” The joke loosens her posture, her head tossing back on a hearty laugh.

Pulling back the comforter, I slide in after her.

Her bed is tiny, but I don’t mind, it means I get to hold her close.

My arm under her waist, I tug her until her head is on my chest, her leg draped over mine, my fingertips running up and down her back.

With my free hand, I nudge her head up with my fingers under her chin, then close the distance between us to kiss her.

Her lips are soft, breath minty, her sighs ghost across my skin.

I don’t deepen the kiss; I don’t push for more.

Now isn’t the time. And honestly, I feel like I could live a lifetime with my lips on hers and die a happy man.

I lift my head, smiling at her contented smile, and her closed eyes. Her breathing evens out within minutes and she’s out. I don’t know how long we lay here entwined before my phone rings. It’s a campus number but not one I recognize.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice low, trying not to disturb her.

“Elijah Addelsbach?”

“Yes, this is he.”

“This is Mason Smith from the university campus security. We spoke earlier outside Daya’s dorm.”

“Did you find anything? Do you know who did this to her?” I have zero chill and I’m not sorry about it.

“We reviewed the footage from Daya’s dorm and the stadium.

The same person appeared on both; however, they were covered with a hoodie.

It’s difficult to determine gender based on the images, though they are about 5’7”.

” Well, that doesn’t rule out Shaye or her friends.

They are all around that height, give or take.

But it doesn’t confirm it’s them either.

I sigh in frustration and lay my head back on the pillow.

Daya moves in her sleep, stilling after I kiss the top of her head and restart rubbing her back.

“Unfortunately, at this time there isn’t more we can do.

Please report any suspicious activity or persons immediately.

I have sent a copy of our report and Zeigler’s to the police. ”

“Thank you for trying.”

“I’m sorry Miss Moul is going through this. She can report to the main security office in the morning to get a new ID card.”

“She will, thank you. Have a good night.”

“You as well, Mr. Addelsbach.” I click on the screen to disconnect, then lay my cell phone on her nightstand.

“Do they know who did it?” she whispers hoarsely, still half asleep.

“No, Itty Bitty, they don’t.” I turn on my side and wrap myself around her until she’s cocooned and protected. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when the food gets here.”

“Will you stay?”

“Nothing could make me leave.” I’m hungry. I’m gonna have to pee soon. But I’m not moving. Not yet.