There’s no warning. Just heat, teeth, and an unexpected possession. The moan escapes me, and his tongue drags against minelike he’s searching for something. Like he’s trying to shove himself inside me. I don’t have time to think, and my body reacts all on its own. My head tilts, and lips part. I lean into him, his hands anchoring my hips, his body pressing me harder into the glass.
Then his mouth is on my neck, teeth and tongue taking turns devouring my flesh. He sucks and my knees almost buckle, but it’s the sharp nip of teeth that does me in. Alex groans against my throat, almost as if he can feel that I’m melting against him.
It’s not until the tap on the window that I remember where we are. The security officer forces the door open, and Alex moves me from in front of it. The guard flashes his light between us to get a good look at our faces.
“What are you two doing out here?” His voice comes out annoyed.
Still close to my jaw, still sounding like lust and defiance, Alex says, “Sorry, man. We got a little carried away.”
I can barely breathe. My lips feel swollen, and my heart is going haywire.
The security officer makes a noise somewhere between irritation and disinterest. “Well, do it somewhere else.” The man grunts, closing the door and locking it.
Alex steps back like nothing happened, then holds his phone light up to my neck. I swear the flicker of a smirk forms, but it falters as quickly as it appeared.
“You can take off my sweater.” He leans in again, his voice right at my ear. “But try covering up that mark.”
And just like that, he walks off. I don’t move right away, my mind busy trying to decipher everything that’s happened tonight. My body’s still shaking, both from nearly getting caught and—whether I want to admit it or not—that kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SAM
It’s been two days since Alex and I broke into the admissions office, and I still haven’t caught my breath. The pages with my mother’s name on them are fanned out on my bed. I stare at them, hoping that the answers to the millions of questions racing through my mind will somehow materialize. Hoping that there is any sort of explanation. But they don’t, and there isn’t. And I’d know because I’ve been staring at them for hours, rereading things that aren’t new to me.
Name: Collins, Miranda
DOB: May 25, 1984
Address: 713 Bell Ave
We haven’t lived there since before Momma met Gary, but the memories are vivid. Life was good back then. Just me, her, and my grandparents before they passed away. She smiled all the time then, and was the light in every room she walked into. We’d stay up all night with her braiding my hair and telling me about all the wonderful things waiting for me in life.
But she never told me this. Sovereign King’s University is not just the best school in the county. Kids come from all overthe country to attend. Getting accepted into this school was the goal. Of course, now that I’ve been here and have almost been assaulted and bullied damn near every day, I know that to be a farce.
It’s hell on this campus, but their track record for producing solid careers for their students is almost unmatched.
They have one of the highest ratings in the country, graduating ninety-five percent of each class. Students go on to become doctors, lawyers, politicians, business owners, and successful athletes. The connections you make can be priceless. Yet she never told me that she was a student.
But then it leaves another question. If SKU is so great at producing success in their students, what about her? She had a decent job, but worked long, excruciating hours to do it. She didn’t get the life they promised. She was rich with family, with love, with me and Desmond, but clearly not rich enough.
I reach out for one of the pages, her transcript. She was smart, damn near a straight A student. There’s no surprise there; I have to get my brains from someone. A smile spreads across my face. It feels good to share similarities to her. When she was alive, I got told every day how much I looked like her, so much so that folks in the old neighborhood referred to me asLil Miranda, instead of Samantha.
“Lil Miranda, come here and let me look at you.”
“Lil Miranda, take this to your granny for me.”
A tear falls and I swiftly wipe it away. “God, I miss you, Ma.”
The bathroom door flies open, and Gracie exits wearing a towel. I don’t bother to look up, my focus glued to the pages, but from the corner of my eye, I see her moving about. She’s at her dresser, pulling items from the drawer.
“What’s all that?” she asks.
I shake away the emotions, letting my eyes meet hers.
Gracie turns forward again, her towel wrapped around her waist as she slips a sports bra over her head. When I don’t respond right away, she glances back at me.
“Earth to Sam.” She slips on her panties before removing the towel and tossing it into the hamper near her closet. “You’ve been staring at those papers like they’re possessed or something.”
