Page 18 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Emery

Hot. So. Fucking. Hot.

I wrestle with the blankets covering me as I try to expose my body to the cooler air of my bedroom. As soon as my upper body breaks free, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I’m not sure what woke me. Definitely not my alarm, since it’s not going off. I tap the screen—six-fifteen. Still forty-five minutes left to sleep.

Maybe it was just the fact that I was slowly sweating to death beneath my blankets? Which is weird, though, because I typically run cool, even with all the blankets.

Am I getting sick?

Pressing the backs of my fingers to my cheeks and then my forehead, I don’t find any suspicious heat pouring from my skin. And I don’t feel unwell. Huh. Maybe I dreamed that I was running a marathon?

I struggle the rest of the way out of the blanket sushi roll I somehow made in my sleep, fish out Teddy and Rocky, and then lie on top of the comforter, staring at the crack in the ceiling. The will to get started with my day hasn’t arrived yet, and I don’t plan on rushing it.

All the money has arrived from SugarLife. Two of the eleven rewards have arrived. I’ve spent a total of six classroom hours being ignored, and my messages have been left on read the entire week.

Besides that one moment with Xavier, I’ve literally heard from none of them.

How long is this going to last? How long will they be apathetic to my existence? Is it going to be forever, or will Hudson and Derek eventually accept that I’m in their classes?

Not to mention that today I am—was—supposed to be going to the apartment. Our first weekend together under the new contract. Did they have a plan for the weekend? Would they have all been there? Or would they have taken turns, coming and going?

Would we have had more conversations? Talked about our personal lives? Or is this just a kink thing for them? They did mention that this six-month contract would most likely be extended. It was just supposed to be time to let us get to know each other, make sure we fit together.

And to confirm that I could handle however deep they wanted to go with the cravings.

But nope. That’s all gone now. My weekends are my own, and for the first time in my life, I have the cash to do whatever I want with my free time. Not that I plan to spend it on crap. Nope.

I have a fairly decent wardrobe now. I have access to free food twenty-four-seven. My textbooks are from the library. My laptop is amazing—oh shit.

Bolting upright with a touch of panic, I glance around at my bed and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see the mess from my study session last night.

But…I should. I don’t remember falling asleep, let alone packing everything away.

The last hazy memory I have is of reading through the first chapter of my macro textbook.

Glancing around, heart still pounding, I spy a stack of books on my desk, and right next to it is my laptop, plugged in and charging. Thank fuck.

But who did that? Had Oakley come looking for me last night and tidied up? She was turning out to be pretty amazing, but not that amazing.

So, maybe I did it but just don’t remember?

Honestly, it’s too much mystery for before seven a.m. One thing I am sure of is that I’m definitely not going back to sleep, and I’m not one for lounging around.

Shoving up out of bed, I resolve to order myself some new sheets and blankets.

And bath towels. No need to keep the thrift shop stuff anymore.

I’m living my new life now, which means letting go of my old life.

Besides, if I buy some better quality things and I take care of them, then they should last me until the end of college.

I use the bathroom, and since there is plenty of time until Oakley will want the bathroom, I do an everything shower.

Even then, it only takes me fifteen minutes, and that included several minutes of shower thoughts.

Probably need to buy myself a few more girlie things, like that leave-in conditioner stuff.

And one of those fluffy but rough sponge ball things.

When I get out of the bathroom, I can hear the TV. With one towel wrapped around my body and my hair in the other, I stick my head into the kitchen. Oakley is there, blurry eyed, hair askew, steaming coffee in a mug directly under her chin.

“You’re up early,” I comment.

She jolts in place, apparently lost to another world, then shrugs one shoulder. “I need to go do a breakfast date.”

“Ah,” I reply with a nod and then remember about my books. “Listen, thanks for tidying up my room for me last night. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

She frowns and tips her head to the side. “I didn’t tidy up.”

Before I can rebut, there is a knock at our door. We both turn to stare at it.

“Is your date picking you up here?” I ask, feet rooted to the spot.

“Nope,” she replies, popping the P.

“Hello?” I call out, because that seems logical. Besides, you need a security fob to get into the building. There is absolutely no reason for my heart to be racing the way it is.

“Uh, hi. Sorry. There was a delivery guy out front of the building, and I offered to bring it to your door,” a female voice calls back, her words muffled through the door.

A delivery?

My feet immediately carry me toward the door, and I’m yanking it open before I remember I’m in nothing but a towel. Oh well.

The girl on the other side lets out a little squeak at seeing my undressed state and then shoves a blue-teal gift bag, not much larger than my phone, at me. “This is for Emery.”

Before I can thank her, she turns tail and runs down the staircase.

Whoops.

Wordlessly, I close the door and turn back to Oakley.

“Another reward?”

I nod, staring at it. It barely weighs anything.

“How many are you up to?” she asks as she crosses over to me before letting out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god! That’s from Tiffany’s!”

Fuck. Even I know what that is.

Oakley flaps her hands in front of me, eyes a little wild. “Open it!”

“Okay, okay,” I mutter and undo the ribbons on the bag to get to the matching little blue-teal box on the inside. I hand Oakley the box before pulling on the white satin ribbon holding the box shut and raise the lid.

My heart is in my throat as I stare down at the little silver heart, with an equally small silver key hanging off the side.

Please return to Tiffany & Co. New York 925

I stare at the engraved lettering. A tiffany necklace. They got me a Tiffany necklace.

“Well?” Oakley’s impatience takes over and she angles the box in my hand to see. “The heart tag and key? Ems!”

What the hell is the symbolism with the pendant? A heart and key—as in, I have the key to their heart or some shit?

What the fuck?

I swallow and close the lid, eyes prickling with tears. “This is too much. I’m sending it back.”

“The fuck you are!” Oakley snatches the box from my hand and hugs it to her chest. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are narrowed with frustration.

“No. You earned this. And if you aren’t able to keep it for yourself right now, I’m going to put it in my room until you are ready. I won’t allow you to send it back.”

My lower lip trembles as I try to breathe. “Why are they doing this to me? These random gifts showing up every day or two? There are still eight more to go. I wish they would stop. I wish they would let me go.”

Oakley’s stance softens, and she puts the bag and box on the table before wrapping me up in her arms. “I don’t know, maybe they don’t actually want to give you up? Maybe they want to keep you but don’t know how? They are professors, Ems. They can’t be with a student.”

I sniff and wrap my arms around her, too, overwhelmed and so goddamn confused.

“I know, but there are too many reminders of them now. Every day, I wear the clothes they bought me. I use the laptop and phone they bought me. Even my art supplies are from them. Everything I have right now is because of them. It’s too much. ”

Tears track down my cheeks and my chest aches.

Oakley holds me while the TV rattles on about some new movie coming out.

I think about what she said. Could this really be their way of keeping me, even from a distance?

Have they realized that I didn’t lie to them?

That they never asked if I was a student?

Have they forgiven me but don’t know how to walk it back?

Is this their way of showing up for me, after everything they said? Of letting me know they are still in this?

Darcy could have canceled the restaurant.

Xavier could have stopped caring about how my marks were healing.

Only Hudson and Derek knew I didn’t have a laptop, so one of them had to have organized that.

And someone had to have looked at my student file a little too closely to figure out where to keep sending everything. An absolutely giant rule to break.

It’s like they have created this little bubble where it’s okay for them to continue to be with me, but only from the shadows, where no one else can see. Just like at the apartment. There, it was only them and me. Alone.

No one to see us together. No one to comment or judge. Just the five of us.

So, maybe it’s my turn to show up for them. To show them that I’m still interested, that I still want them. That I need my daddies.

And I know exactly how I’m going to do it.