Morgan Jane Mitchell
Copyright
NINE © 2020 Morgan Jane Mitchell
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Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven
It all started with a bite…
Not the bite I’d wanted.
When Jonah asked me to go hiking with him, my mind wandered to what could happen if I was out in the middle of Big Bend State Park with my crush. All alone with him, we’d be two young, sweaty bodies, glistening in the sweltering sun. Anything could happen. Unfortunately, I was in Jonah’s very large friend zone.
“He’s gay,” Locus started. “Way too tasty and not any of us girls getting a bite.”
Locus, she’d been my best friend since becoming my roommate. We were both freshman at Baylor University, Waco, Texas. Since she was a year older, most of the time, she acted like the boss of me.
“Maybe he’s choosy.” I was secretly hoping I was the one he’d choose. A senior, a business major, a Rugby player, Jonah was tall but lean with perfect golden hair that fell over his eyes, blue streaked with stone grey. He was English, so exotic to a Texas girl like me. Most importantly he was clean shaven. I didn’t like a scruffy face. “You’re just salty he asked me and not you.” I laughed.
She laughed but in a “ha ha” mocking way.
We both knew that wasn’t true. Locus had a type, bearded, tattooed… damaged. Motorcycle men like her way older brother who was in a biker gang. I’d met him once when she was moving in, hot as hell with danger written all over him.
“Maybe you’re jealous,” I said without thinking.
Locus stopped laughing.
I’d hit a nerve and immediately regretted it. Locus had never even had a boyfriend.
“While your best friend’s at the beach for spring break you choose,” she emphasized the word choose, “to go sweat with mister don’t give the d to you. Or anyone that I know of for that matter. I don’t trust him.”
I started to argue, but she put her finger to my lips.
“Romilly, I don’t care if you are sharing his hotel room. You’ve been out and about with that boy… that man… all year and nothing. Not one bite of Mister Tasty. And now all of the sudden he asks you on a trip. What do you really know about this guy? He could be a serial killer.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re not even eighteen… Your mom thinks…”
Pursing my lips, I shook my head. I’d be eighteen in the summer. Locus had just turned eighteen herself last fall. If I was mature enough to start college early, I was mature enough to go on spring break. Thing was, mom thought I was going to the beach with Locus and the other girls I’d met at Baylor.
She went on, “I really don’t feel comfortable lying to your mom.”
“But… he could’ve asked anyone.” Any of his vast circle of friends who happened to be girls.
“And they are all going to be on the beach.”
Even though I knew she hadn’t grown close to any of our new college friends, I didn’t tell Locus for the millionth time she’d be okay without me. Locus was different than anyone I’d ever met. I hadn’t known her long, but she’d become like my sister. Being an only child, I loved having someone to think of that way. Although, she was much more outgoing than me, Locus needed me. My companionship, for her was like a drug. I’d never had a friend so fiercely loyal. In fact, I rarely kept up with anyone from high school anymore and not by choice. My other friends had lost touch with me quickly, as they all had a new life now. They’d been nothing like Locus.
When I woke up the next morning, Locus had left for the airport, headed to St. Padre Island. I sighed imagining myself laying in the sand under a bright sun, a cool breeze from the ocean hitting me. I’d miss all the trouble the girls planned to get into. Instead, I’d signed up for a shit ton of physical activity. It’s not that I wasn’t active. I just wasn’t, let’s hike for three days just for fun active.
I blew out a breath. This trip better be worth it.
Very keenly aware, I was thinking with my vagina... wait… Was that a thing? Not one that I’d heard of, but if guys could think with their private parts, couldn’t I? I second guessed this whole scheme, but my libido won out.
With me, having to be out of the dorm by 10am, Jonah and I planned to leave around nine thirty. When my alarm sounded at nine, I had a quick pop tart, the organic kind because I wasn’t a kid anymore, and cold brewed coffee while I scrolled Instagram. @jonahholland23 had a townhouse he shared with four other hot rugby players. His feed was akin to porn for a girl like me. These guys rarely wore shirts and seemed to always be all over one another, roughhousing. I’d never been to his place, so I always tried to get a glimpse of it in his pics. Noticing he was in my DMs again, I clicked, expecting the usual meme. That was all he ever sent. Also, I knew he’d planned to text to say when he was
