I huff out a breathless laugh, shaking my head as I swipe off my swim cap next, running my fingers through my hair and releasing a few tangles.
The only reason I had Rogue go there was because I was expecting a completely different kidnapping. He went there to scare Sable, and I knew she’d instantly call Reverie, freaking out. Cue Reverie running out of her dorm to drive to Sable, but I’d intercept before she made it to her car. I intended to make her think Sable was in trouble while also avoiding a huge commotion in her dorm from trying to kidnap her.
Because even I know better than to think Reverie wouldn’t go down without a fight, and that would’ve attracted a lot of attention I didn’t want.
Except, Reverie never came running out. Just as I gave up waiting and went to get her anyway, a police cruiser pulled up. When the officer went into her building, I snuck in after him and hid behind the wall by the staircase while he went straight to her door. With her room being almost at the end, I couldn’t hear why he was there, but I assumed it had something to do with Rogue and me, so I immediately texted him. By the time I finished, I overheard Reverie asking the officer to escort her to a hotel. I figured she knew I was coming for her and was trying to safely get away.
I wasn’t letting that happen, so I immediately ran back down to the first floor and pulled the fire alarm.
Then, I ran to my car in the parking lot and waited inside, biding my time until there was a good moment to take her. I got lucky that her Uber driver got blocked in and didn't seem inclined to drive in the grass to get around. The driver's refusal forced Rev to run back to the dorms after the officers and firefighters vacated the lot, providing me with the perfect opportunity to snatch her, throw her in my trunk, and—very easily—drive over the grass to get out. Even if the driver did just go around, I was entirely prepared to follow her to the hotel, especially since the officer all but abandoned her.
Regardless, I didn’t notice until Reverie and I got back to my dorm later that Rogue never responded. I don't know if his phone died or what, but he’s damn lucky Rev didn’t call the cops, because he wouldn’t have even known until they showed up. I don’t know why the hell he disappeared for so long, but based on his current ranting, I get the inclination Sable was the reason.
“The fuck you laughin’ for? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if she succeeded?”
“No,” I say dryly, glancing at him. “Do you?”
“No,” he barks. “But it would’ve been really fucking bad—that, Idoknow.”
He shakes his head, huffing and puffing like a bull as he angrily mutters something beneath his breath. I’m too goddamn dizzy to make sense of it, let alone care.
“Lionel is out of prison,” I say, shifting the subject to important matters before he starts googling the effects of embalming liquid injected into a dick. Personally, I’d love to never know the answer to that.
Rogue’s head snaps toward me, and I scrounge up the energy to drag myself to my feet. I need to get my blood sugar up before I pass out and then get to the cafeteria so I can eat several thousand calories before Coach makes me burn it all off again later.
He’s instantly on his feet to follow me. “The fuck you mean, he’s out of prison?”
“What I just said,” I snap. “His parole was approved three fucking weeks ago. Rev stole my letter informing me of it, and it hadn’t been the full one hundred twenty days to make a decision, so I had no idea. Good behavior on top of being a real stand-up motherfucker in prison convinced them to let him go.”
After I dragged Rev into my dorm last night, I let her shower in the men’s stalls while I stood guard outside, ensuring no one else popped in. I was tempted to watch her, but instead, I spent the time scrolling online to see if anyone else had gotten word of Lionel’s release.
I looked him up on the site like I’d done several times before, only for it to show no results—meaning he’s no longer in the prison system.
Since the media became aware of his parole hearing last month, people had been checking the CDCR website on the status, much like I was. A few noticed and were speculating online, but it hadn’t caught much traction since they, too, thought the CDCR would’ve posted it if it were true, and chalked it up to a glitch.
So when Reverie emerged from the showers, she filled me in on the details of why he was approved. Even her naked body beneath her towel couldn’t completely distract me from the fact that the justice system let aserial killerloose. It’s fucking mind-boggling. To this day, I can’t wrap my head around how the fuck they couldn’t find a shred of goddamnevidence against him other than my testimony.
He had to have fucked up at least once. If I could slip past him, then I’m confident something else did, too.
News broke of his release this morning, and, as expected, it’s a fucking circus now. Lionel was spotted this morning buying coffee at a café, confirming he was, in fact, released from prison. Pictures were taken, they obviously went viral instantly, and it became a beast that couldn't be contained.
Article after article repeated everything Reverie told me last night—all the wonderful things he did during his time in prison, including starting a nonprofit that’s doing really well.
Inevitably, they're already well aware of not only my attendance to HCU, but Reverie’s. Already, old pictures of myself, Reverie, and Regina are resurfacing. Tabloids lament how I grew up to be an Olympic medalist, as if I don't deserve my celebrity status after sending an innocent man to prison. Inevitably, they're now aware of Reverie's name change, and the speculations and conspiracies are running rampant, along with wondering how she was affected by Regina’s suicide, and if there will be a reunion between her and Lionel. One tabloid mentioned yet another documentary coming out about us, as if there aren’t several already. So, until authorities catch the copycat, the media won’t let any of us become a thing of the past.
Suffice to say, they've fuckingfloodedcampus, trying to get interviews from both of us.
“He’s stuck in California, though, yeah?” Rogue questions.
We enter the locker room and head straight to the showers. The moment I glimpse the bench out of the corner of my eye, memories of last night resurface, of a different locker room and a different bench. The phantom sound of her moans—especially those fucking gleeful little giggles when I hurt her—haunt my every waking hour, and it’s hard enough concentrating when all I want to do is see how far I can push her.
I force myself to focus on the conversation before I’m stuck taking a shower with a goddamn hard-on.
“Depends what you mean by stuck,” I say as we step into our respective stalls and undress before draping our swimsuits over the half walls between each one. “He left Reverie a note in her dorm while she was at work yesterday. Guess it said something about seeing her soon.”
He snaps his head toward me in shock. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“Nope. But Barry said Lionel’s parole officer confirmed him to still be in California last night.”
