Page 44 of Wicked Little Darling

I scrambled to my knees, and my legs got twisted up in the blanket when I frantically tried to get out. I fell over the side of the bed and hit my shoulder hard, my legs slowly following me to the ground as I lay there.

“Ow.” I sat up and looked around the room again, just to make sure he really wasn’t here—he wasn’t, thank fuck.

But that was the only thing I was grateful for right now, becausewhy was I in his bed?!When did I get there? Last night?This morning? Before or after he’d left? Was I sleepwalking again?

I rubbed a hand down my face and groaned.

This was bad. This was so fucking bad. It was so beyondbadthat I didn’t even have a better descriptor for it. What if I’d crawled into bed with him last night and…done something weird?

My stomach churned with nausea. Why hadn’t he just kicked me off the bed if that was the case?

I had so many questions, and Dakota wasn’t here to answer them, but I couldn’t just sit here thinking about it all day. I didn’t even know what time it was, and I had classes to get to.

I used my shaky arms to push to my feet, then stumbled over to my side of the room. My covers were bunched at the foot of my bed, and when I touched the sheets, they were cold—which meant I hadn’t been in my bed for a while.

Fuck.

I grabbed my phone off my desk to check the time. I was about to turn off the screen when I saw a little notification at the top with the number four next to it.

I had text messages.

Inevergot texts.

My finger was shaking as I clicked on the messages icon. An unknown number sat at the top.

Unknown:

Hey. You’re pretty wild, you know that? You owe me

Or maybe you don’t owe me, but damn. That was some night

Poor word choice, I didn’t mean it like *that*. Or did I? ;)

I really didn’t though.

What the fuck…? I stared down at the messages, which were obviously from Dakota. They gave zero information about what had actually happened.

I was regretting the course of events that had led me here, but more than that, I was cursing Professor Hawkins for making us share our phone numbers with our duet partners.

I should just block him, project be damned.

Except instead of doing that, I typed out a reply.

Me:

Then what did you mean it like?

The message immediately went fromdeliveredtoread, and three dancing bubbles appeared below it.

My heart was pounding so hard I felt dizzy, so I sat down on my bed and stared at the bubbles. They moved, then stopped. Moved, then stopped. This went on for so long that I wondered if he was writing a whole essay.

But when the message finally came through, it was painfully short.

Unknown:

Just that it was wild. *You’re* wild.

That gave me less than nothing to go on, and because I felt like the entire conversation would keep on giving me nothing if I kept it going, I tossed my phone behind me and covered my face with both hands.