Tiger Darling:
Convene8ent excuse
I read and reread Reese’s text over and over again, my heart slamming against my rib cage.
It wasn’t like him to fuck up his spelling like that. Was he drunk? On something?Where the fuck was he?
Me:
WHERE ARE YOU
Tiger Darling:
hell
Me:
Okay, and where is that?
Tiger Darling:
frat. I’m winning
Alarm raced through me; he was clearly drunk or on something, and fuck me, the thought of him surrounded by strangers while out of his mind was terrifying. What in the fuck was he doing at a frat house? And what didI’m winningmean?
Me:
Which frat? Where?
The dots danced then stopped as he typed. I stared at my phone as I laced up my boots. “Come on, tiger, tell me where you are.”
The dots disappeared altogether, and my panic started to soar. I grabbed my room key and raced into the hall. If I had to go to every single fucking frat house to find him, that’s exactly what I was going to do.
Tiger Darling:
kippa pho beta. don’t com, the music is horible
*pho
*pho
*pho
ducking hell
*pho!!!!!
Another time, I might find that funny, but right now I was drenched in pure terror. I ran down the stairs, jumping down three at a time. I hoped to god he meant Kappa Phi Beta. That was just a ten minute walk from here—and hopefully a three minute sprint.
Me:
Stop drinking. Okay? No more drinks. Stay right where you are. I’m coming.
Tiger Darling:
I sad dont come!!
Me:
