Page 10 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

There is a light tap on my door. “Ems, you okay?”

My pulse spikes and I quickly lock my phone. “Uh, yeah. Give me a sec,” I reply, glancing around like there is something I need to clean up.

Spotting the pile of clothes that need dry cleaning, I quickly go over to the corner and scoop it all up before going to my door and opening it. “Do you have anything you need dry cleaned?”

Oakley is waiting for me with a concerned look.

Her gaze dropping to the ball of clothes in my arms, she steps to the side to let me through.

“Here, let me get you something to carry that in. There is a dry cleaner and a laundry mat just off campus. If you show them your student card, you get a discount. And no, I don’t have anything besides what you borrowed. ”

Oakley disappears into her bedroom for a second, returning with a tote bag, handles held wide open. “Here you go.”

I dump everything into the bag, then place it on the dining table. “Thanks, I’m going to drop it off on my way to my first class.”

She wrinkles her nose, and somehow it looks adorable instead of weird. “Do you have any classes with them today?”

“No,” I reply, but then pause. “Well, not that I know of. I checked the course material last night, and neither Darcy nor Xavier is listed. But who knows? Maybe the universe will torture me a little more.”

“Let’s hope not.” Her lips twitch and her eyes widen. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. You were totally right about the categories!”

I tip my head to the side as I stare at her, confused at the topic change. “What categories?”

“On SugarLife! They do totally mean”—she lowers her voice—“hand jobs and blow jobs!”

I snort a laugh. “Oh my god, Oaks. You are too cute.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Shut up. Bexley told me to stick to meet cute and just a kiss . I didn’t have any reason to think about the other ones!”

“Do you always do what you’re told?” I ask, smirking as I duck back into my room to grab my laptop. It requires some serious mental gymnastics to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that they sent me a reward.

And the note. Am I going to get all eleven? Will any of them be hand delivered?

I shake my head to rattle the thought loose before heading back out into the living room. My hopes are not allowed to get up. They need to stay down on the ground, where I can manage them.

Oakley is staring back at me, brows furrowed. “Don’t you?”

Mentally replaying the conversation, I start reorganizing my backpack as I reply. “I’m all about survival, babe. Whatever gets me to the end of each day.”

The silence from Oakley makes me glance her way. “More of that tragic backstory, huh?”

“Yup,” I reply, a rush of relief flowing through me at not having to explain myself.

Tragic backstory is going to tragic backstory. Oakley seems to get that and doesn’t ask any additional questions. Maybe one day I’ll give her some details, but for now, she is just rolling with it, which I think I might love her for.

With my bag and laundry packed up, I heft both bags over one shoulder each. “Want to catch up for lunch?”

Oakley perks back up, a smile lighting up her entire face. “Yes! Do you eat sushi? I saw a bar on campus yesterday.”

I shrug and head to the front door. “Never had it, so no clue. Pick something for me and we’ll find out. Worst case, I have to hit a dining hall. Twelve in the main quad?”

“Perfect. Have a good morning!” she calls after me as I exit, her words cut off by the door shutting.

I head down the two flights of stairs and out into the brisk morning air. The mornings have been starting out cooler for the past week, but by midday, the sun is shining bright, so I fight off the chill and set a brisk pace to the laundromat.

Now, with literally nothing else to distract me, I can’t help but think about the rewards. And Xavier’s demand for pictures. And seeing Hudson and Derek yesterday.

The mixed signals are so fucking confusing.

The no-contact rule must only be for me. But if that’s the case, why did they ignore me in class yesterday?

I get it. Fraternizing with a student is definitely going to be a huge no-no. So, maybe that’s it? Did they ignore me in class just to ensure they don’t get called out? But that can’t be right. Derek said the arrangement was over, that he isn’t my daddy anymore.

The memory of him telling me not to call him Daddy is so sharp that I stumble over my feet, heart pounding painfully and throat locking up so tight that tears form.

I pause, right there on the sidewalk, surrounded by the hurt and anger of the memory, all the scabbed-over wounds tearing open and pouring out their pain all over again.

When is all this emotional shit going to be over with? It was a fucking weekend. Just one. I need to shove this into a box already, then shelve it deep in the very back of my memory bank, so it’s only a ghost of a bruise and not a piercing knife wound.

I force my feet to get moving again and change gears, thinking through my day.

Dry cleaning.

Statistics.

Lunch with Oakley.

Psych.

Then study back at the apartment.

Not too busy of a day, but enough to keep me distracted.

It only takes fifteen more minutes to get to the dry cleaners and even less time before I’m pocketing the slip they gave me and leaving their store. I want to swing by Grinder to get a hot chocolate before hitting up my stats class. I have a feeling I’ll need the sugar to not pass out from boredom.

And maybe, potentially, run into my daddi—the men, there. The mental stumble is awkward. I really don’t like the sound of that. The men. Like they are just four randoms who haven’t altered the chemistry of my brain.

Ding.

My phone chimes from my bag, causing my pulse to spike. Without stopping, I maneuver my bag to get my phone and force myself to re-shoulder the straps before opening the notification.

A message from Oakley.

I roll my eyes at this chick, but honestly? I kind of like it. She has zero chill about wanting to be friends, and if that’s just from morbid curiosity or pity, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m enjoying having someone in my life who doesn’t question every decision or thought that I have.

It’s like having my own personal cheerleader.

Oakley: Let me know if there is anything in particular you want from the grocery store for the week. I’m going to pick stuff up after class.

Me: Thanks. I’m mostly going to use my meal card. I want to stretch the money I have. But I’m happy to go halves on fruit, milk, bread, etc.

She shoots me a bunch of dollar bill emojis and then a thumbs-up back.

Smiling at my phone, I swipe out of her thread back to my inbox and go to close the app, but my gaze catches on the preview text from my last message with Darcy.

Have an amazing day today, princess.

Wait… it’s Tuesday. Isn’t today the day we’re supposed to go on our first date?

I tap on the message, and yep. Thai Orchid at seven. Blowing out a heavy breath, I relock my phone and stuff it into the back pocket of my denim skirt.

I have to assume it’s canceled, right? My hand twitches at my side, wanting to reach for my phone to text Darcy to ask if tonight is still happening, but that would break the no-contact rule.

Dammit. Why does this have to be so difficult?

I need to examine the facts.

We have a signed contract for the next six months, which I think is now terminated? That part is unclear to me. We are done, according to Derek’s words yesterday morning, but Xavier has messaged me and one of them sent me a laptop. So are we really done?

And the reason they have gone no contact is because I never said I was a student, not to mention that I go to NU. But they never asked. If that was a requirement, why wasn’t it in the contract?

I put those thoughts on ice, because I’m pretty sure that I’ll just continue to go in circles on it.

Okay, so, not only do I have a new laptop, but also the note that says I’ll be receiving all eleven of the gifts I earned over the weekend.

This is just so… weird.

They aren’t sticking to what they said. It’s more like they are still following the contract. But also, not, at the same time, somehow?

I wish I could just wave a magic wand and clear up this whole situation.

Maybe… maybe if I just follow all the rules from the contract and also stay no contact with them, they’ll want me back? They’ll see that I’m always a good girl for them, and then we can talk and everything will be fixed?

That’ll work, right?

Or maybe it’s like a test or something? I’m good at tests. I can handle this.

I can be good for them. I can. I know I can.

I’ll be the perfect girl for them, then they’ll have no choice but to take me back.