steven
“I’m Steven Patton,” I said to the security guard inside of Sierra’s building.
Dressed in the dullest gray uniform, he glanced up from watching a basketball game on his phone—full volume, mind you—and stared at me with an expression I could only describe as confused and disgusted.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he asked, chomping on gum.
“Let me in.”
He kicked his feet up onto the desk and continued on his phone, chomping on his gum. “Listen, I ain’t telling you again. If you don’t have a student ID or have someone check you in, then you’re not getting in the building.”
“What do you want?” I asked, pulling out my wallet.
Without glancing up from his phone, he laughed lifelessly. “For you to leave.”
After balling my hands into tight fists, I shoved my wallet back into my pants pocket and stormed out of the building, heading straight for my car. I couldn’t fucking believe this. I had come here twice in the past two days in hopes that they’d let me in to find Sierra.
And nothing.
Fucking nothing.
Once I slid back into my car, I stepped on the accelerator and headed down Forbes, swung back around onto Fifth Avenue, and made a beeline for Radiant. I’d really hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but I had no other choice.
It was Friday night. I hadn’t seen—or heard from—Sierra since Tuesday morning, when I’d completely fucked up. What the hell was wrong with me? I had made it a point all my life not to make anyone feel the way I had when growing up. But my damn emotions had had to get in the way.
Now, she must’ve felt like the most unwanted woman in existence.
I parked in my usual spot and walked past the woman at the coatroom, not even bothering to drop off my coat. I wouldn’t be here for long anyway. I would be in and out of Michelle’s office in no time.
She didn’t answer on the first knock, so I walked into her room and steered myself right for the filing cabinet. I yanked it open with my key and scanned the hundreds of folders for Sierra’s name. They were all in alphabetical order, but Sierra’s was missing.
Where the fuck did she—
“What are you doing?”
With a stack of papers in my hand, I twirled around, all disheveled. Michelle leaned back on her couch with one leg crossed over the other and a smirk on her face. She rocked her foot back and forth, the moonlight flooding through the window illuminating the red bottom.
“Nothing,” I said, hiding the files behind my back.
“Nothing?” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Damn, Steven. You have it bad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sauntering over to me, she grabbed the files from behind my back, stuffed them into her cabinet, then grabbed one all the way in the back, where I would never have found it by myself. She extended the file toward me, and then when I went to grab it, she yanked it back.
“What do you need from it?”
“Her number.”
“Oh my God,” she said dramatically. “Ugh, you are terrible sometimes.”
“What?”
“You’ve been fucking her for, what, three weeks now, and you don’t have her number?”
Rubbing my forehead, I sighed. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I need her number. I can’t find her anywhere, not her campus or her apartment. They won’t even let me into the fucking building. I’ve tried twice. Twice!”
Michelle chuckled and flipped through the file. “Dick aching that badly?”
“No,” I growled. “I fucked up.”
Arching her brow, she looked up at me. “What’d you do?”
“It’s none of your business, Michelle. Just give me her number.”
She hesitated. “Did you ignore her safeword?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then, what is it?”
I held out my hand. “Please.”
Again, she rolled her eyes and placed the file in my hand. “You’re terrible with feelings.”
“Tell me about it,” I mumbled, setting the file on her desk and finding Sierra’s number.
Once I saved her number in my phone as a contact, I pressed the Call button but was immediately sent to voice mail. I called her again. And again. And again. All sent to voice mail. And on the last call, I drew my tongue across the bottom of my teeth, pacing.
“I’ve never seen you this way,” Michelle said from her desk, leaning forward onto her elbows and kicking her legs back and forth underneath the desk. “Not even when you used to have regular dates. She must be special.”
“She is.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Michelle smirked, as if she’d just made me admit the greatest thing in my entire life. I gritted my teeth and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me.
Damn Michelle.
After I settled myself into my car, I texted her.
Me: Where are you?
Read receipt.
Me: Sierra.
Sierra: Who is this? How do you know me?
Me: It’s Steven.
Sierra: Steven Patton?
Me: Yes, answer your phone.
I called her once more and didn’t get sent to voice mail on the first try again.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Where are you?” I asked, listening to voices in the background. “At a party?”
“No, I’m at the movies in Robinson with my friends.”
“I want to see you.”
She sucked in a breath through the phone. “You want to see me? I thought—”
“Please.”
She paused, and I thought she was going to hang up on me.
“I want to see you too.”
“You do?” I asked, eyes widening and a funny feeling bubbling in my stomach. “Really?”
“Only if you meet me at the Giant Eagle in Robinson,” she said. “I’ll be there in ten.”
And with that, the line went dead.