by Celia Crown
“Yes, stranger, I did eat.”
I have half a mind to hang up on him. I don’t care how handsome he is or how husky his voice sounds. I’m too tired to deal with him.
“It’s Derek. Dress properly. I’m having breakfast delivered,” he said, growling over the phone, and I stifle a groan into the pillow.
“Go away.” I sigh, sleepiness is ebbing away.
“You need proper nutrition to start your day,” he states blandly.
I turn and lay on my back, but I can't go back to sleep again. “Yes, Dad.”
“Do not call me that,” Derek snarls through the device.
Blinking up at the ceiling, blurriness stays with a small hint of haziness. “Yes, sir.”
There’s silence on the other line, and I think my stupid brain picked up a hitched breath and a purr, but that could just be my imagination.
Purring doesn’t match his image as a growly grouch.
Then a thought hits me, and my eyes narrow in skepticism. “How did you get my number?”
“Do you not think that I would have all of your information on me? You are the one who owes me money,” he reminds me, and I really hope he would stop bringing that up.
My stress level is very high as of now because I need to focus on graduating.
If I had known that student loans were this pain in the ass, I would have taken a year to get all of my money in order before I agreed to take it. The loans are through the university, so I thought that they would be the ones who collect it, and they would transfer it to the correct companies that lent out the loans.
I did my research online about loans, and everyone that had experience with it says that the first notice letter should come about six months after graduation. It gives time for newly-graduated students to find jobs and get the money to pay the minimum, but apparently, I’m the not who got the worst loans.
Moira didn’t get the same amount from the school, and the names on our loans are different; I got Derek as a debt collector.
This sounds like a movie script. It just doesn’t sound real because nothing makes sense, and yet it does make perfect sense considering that he doesn’t look like someone who makes mistakes. His body and demeanor tell me that he’s been doing this for years. He has the confidence of a man who had taken his money back by force.
There’s a sound of a pained yell from the line, and I blink, confused as to what could have caused the noise. It wasn’t his voice; it sounded more distant and too different from his baritone.
“Are you okay?” I ask, it’s better for me to at least sound concerned even if I’m not.
All I want is my beauty sleep back, and he’s not going to hang up soon.
“Fine. Are you dressed?” He asks gruffly over the phone.
I lie with a flat tone, “Yes.”
Opening the door for a stranger holding food is tempting but not enough for me to get out of bed and be presentable when I can just pretend that the knocks don’t exist. Taking food from strangers is a bad thing to do no matter how old anyone is I have heard the warnings about predators luring children with candy.
“You lied to me twice,” he points out.
I’m about the deny that accusation, but it’s best if I just tell the truth. Honesty is the best policy, only if it serves me in the best interest. I doubt anything I say would make him happy; he’s so unapproachable even through the phone.
“It’s so early. What do you want?” I whine, “You don’t have to call to get your money back. I’ll get it to you.”
I don’t know how but I have to think of a way. I can find two jobs and juggle them while struggling with the final weeks of classes.
“Get your roommate to open the door,” he says, and a knock resonates through our room.
I blink at the unnervingly weird timing, setting the phone to my chest. I turn my head to see Moira’s messy head poke out from her cover. Her squinting eyes are dazed and confused as she jolts with the next knock. She’s unaware of the man on the other line with me as she stumbles out of her bed.
“Who in the hell…” she mumbles, swaying in her steps as she groans loudly.
There’s a curse and a shout of colorful words before the door opens with a loud crack. I put the phone back to my ear and sighs to myself.
“Okay, she’s at the door. Is there anything else?” I turn to my side, pulling the cover near my head to block out the bright room.
I’m not fond of the dorm room I got because it’s directly in the sun when it rises. The blinds can do so much since darker blinds mess with our energy to be productive and lighter blinds hinder my sleep.
“I want you to eat everything. I’ll know if you don’t.” He warns quite threateningly, “I will call you later.”
I couldn’t get a word in, and the phone’s dial tone hits my ear. I let it fall from my hand and roll to my front to stuff my face down on the pillow. This man is making me feel things that I don’t know how to describe; on one hand, he is a grouchy man with not an ounce of patience. On the other hand, he goes and does something so kind as to bring me breakfast, even if it’s at an hour that no one should be awake at.
“What in the world? It’s a steak, Becca.” Moira’s stunned eyes are round, “Why did we just get a steak?”
I clear my throat, “Breakfast.”
I think I should keep the conversation to myself. Moira’s going to make a big deal about it if she finds out that it’s the man whom she was obsessed with yesterday that gave this to us. To me specifically, but steak for breakfast is a bizarre thing to eat.
It’s too heavy on the stomach.
The smell would have been appetizing if I didn’t just wake up. Hunger is not really a thing in the morning, so I usually skip breakfast. I want to get all the sleep and rest I can get before I start the day, and then I’ll dig up some snack if I’m hungry during class.
My eating schedule varies depending on the amount of work I have to do so these semesters, sometimes I would get too into my notes that it would be nighttime and I would have only consumed some snacks.
Getting in line for food or preparing food at the dorm would require time, and time is not something that come by easily, especially when I have professors who think they deliver the most important lectures and hand out essays as if they are Christmas presents.
Professor Gomez conducts by far the most ridiculous class I have ever taken. She assumes everyone cheats if she finds one answer sheet similar to another student. She has accused a couple of students of cheating, and people around campus talk. It’s hard to refute her when she threatens to fail and report to the Dean of the school if no one confesses.
She has accused everyone at least once, and it’s a mystery as to how she still has a job at this point. No one gets special treatment in her class, and it was only a matter of time that I got hit with an accusation.
Last month, she accused me of cheating on an online test. She may be old school, but this is a century of technology so she cannot expect people not to cheat or find answers online. It’s not possible, and when she emailed me about an important meeting to discuss my test, I knew it was my time to get fucked up.
She asked me about the time I took my exam and where I was, who I was with, and the exact same multiple-choice questions I got right and wrong with another student.
I know for a fact that I didn’t cheat. I paid for this semester with money, and it’s not cheap to go to a four-year college. There is no way I would jeopardize it with cheating as I’m doing fine in her class so there shouldn’t be a need for me to get disciplinary misconduct on my record.
I told her my side of the story, and I was ready to bear whatever repercussions she wanted me to face if she would just stop her threats to my process of graduation. I would rather have a lower grade or fail the test than wasting all the time to go back and forth with the issue when I’m in the right, but I need to be realistic.
I asked her what other proof that she had, and she told me that there is the
timing of the student’s exam and my exam. I wanted to tell her that it’s an online exam. I don’t know who takes it at what time, and I can't control who takes it at the same time as me.
My mind was close to exploding when she continues to say that I cheated, but I kept my cool and told her that she can take it up with the Dean to see where it leads.
I believe in myself, and she has had it out for me the moment I stepped into her class. The vibes she gave off were odd, and everyone already disliked her based on her attitude. She didn’t care about students and would often tell her life story to make us learn life lessons about how she wanted us to succeed and do good in her class when she couldn’t teach properly.
Honestly speaking, I never thought my last semester would give me this much stress.
She ended up dropping her accusation because how could she prove that I cheated when everyone has the same course materials and her answers are all the same in the exact order as every test.
She could make the argument that the timing and the answers are same, but it’s hard to prove unless she wants a group of computer techs to go through my laptop.
I’m graduating soon, and I don’t need this anxiety. I have never hated a professor more than her because she abused her power over her students to make us fear her.
That problem was resolved, but then this newer one that’s more pressing comes from a man who’s in dire need of getting his money back.
A girl can’t catch a break.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Moira licks her lips, gazing down on the steaming steak with twinkly eyes.
I grunt, “Don’t save any for me.”
Smelling it makes me woozy; the stress and anxiety must be getting to me. If I’m not going to get any sleep, I’ll just take a shower and go on with my day.
“Thanks, girl!” Moira giggles happily, going to a drawer by her side of the bed to fish out a fork and a knife.
It still boggles me to know that she keeps her kitchen utensils in her desk drawers. I have found pens and pencils in there too; I’m surprised her stomach isn’t overdosing on lead.
I stretch my arms over my head and yawn loudly. My bones crack and a new sensation of tiredness punches me in the muscles.
“So,” she says with a mouthful of steak, “Are you going to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Of course there is,” she gasps, looking offended that I’m withholding information from her.
“A hunky man just tongue-fucked you last night and you say there’s nothing,” Moira points her fork at me.
“There isn’t,” I shrug my shoulders, “I owe him money, that’s all.”
“So, what?” Moira eats another piece, chewing with her mouth open like the uncultured animal that she is.
“A kiss to wipe the debt?”
I scoff, “You wish. If I go missing, just know that it’s probably his doing.”
Walking over to my drawer to take a shirt and jeans, I throw my night clothes on the bed and put on the new ones. I flip my hair and shake the sleepiness from my body. As I pull the blinds open, a burst of hotness scorching my skin does the job of fighting off the tiredness.
“Ah!” Moira shields her eyes from the lights, “Stop trying to kill me! I’m a vampire in the dark, and sunlight is not good for me!”
I comment flatly, “Neither is garlic.”
The steak has a faint smell of butter and garlic infused together, so it’s safe to assume that it’s the oil coating around it.
I can't handle the scent anymore and saunter off to the bathroom to start with the morning routine. I showered last night so I think I’ll just skip it for the morning.
My phone rings again, and I pause at the bathroom door. My gut feeling tells me that it’s Derek again. Although my gut feelings are always wrong with it comes to exams, so they could be wrong now.
Let’s not risk it, my mind suggests.
Yes, let’s not.
Padding towards the bed, I searched for the phone with my hand going through the cover blindly as it rings towards the end of the melody. A wave of panic hits me as I grasp my phone and press the green button quickly.
I breathe a breath of relief as it connects, “Hello?”
“What took you so long?” He demands.
Yes, it is him. My gut is right for the first time.
“I was doing something,” I said, walking back to the bathroom.
“I assume you have eaten?” It’s a question that comes across as a threat.
Why does this man have to be threatening all the time? My health has nothing to do with the loans that I need to give back to him, but he seems more interested in that than the money I said I would get.
He probably thinks that if I die of malnutrition, he wouldn’t get his money back.
“Yeah,” I said absentmindedly, fiddling with the toothpaste as I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“When you said you’d call later, I was not expecting fifteen minutes after your first one,” I mention lightly.
“I changed my mind,” he said, “I want you in front of your dorm in thirty minutes.”
I sputter, “Wait, what? No, I can’t!”
“You can,” Derek hisses, lowering his voice to a sneer, “Do not make me carry you down.”
I gulp and purse my lips.
What am I supposed to say to that? A million scenarios run through my head, from kidnapping to being sold as human prey to those who want to hunt humans.
I have been watching too many crime videos.
“Can I at least know where I’m going?” I wince at my squeaky voice.
This way, I can tell Moira where to find me if I don’t come back. I may be exaggerating a great deal, but precaution is best taken in a moment of panic.
She can call the police for me, and I’ll be grateful for her if they find me floating in the ocean. That style of disposal is for mafias, but it’s the same logic as I’m most likely going to end up in a ditch somewhere.
“We are going for breakfast, and before you lie to me again, think carefully as to what you will say next.”
He can make anything sound hostile, and he doesn’t have to try; it’s in his nature to be a dominant man.
“Uh,” I pause, searching for words. “Okay.”
I have signed and sealed my fate, however, this day may come out, I will forever remember the grossly greasy smell of butter and garlic.
“A secret rendezvous with your finger-licking man again?” Moira leans on the bathroom door, contaminating the air with her plate of steak.
“It’s not a secret, and it’s not a rendezvous,” I correct.
Her throat makes a movement that tells me that she swallowed her food, “A date?”
“No, it’s a mandatory attendance breakfast.” I huff, looking down on the disconnected call.
He doesn’t even have the decency to say ‘see you later’ or ‘bye’.
“A date,” she repeats, her gleeful smile scares me. “We need to doll you up.”
“We?” I raise an eyebrow.
“My inner beauty guru and I,” she turns her nose, a proud smirk plasters on her face.
I stare dead into her eyes.
“Absolutely not.”
Her taste is different from mine, the opposite polar sides for the lack of words. She goes for sexier vibes while I lean towards comfort; I’m fine with a simple shirt and jeans. However, in her mind, I’m committing the biggest offense to the culture of beauty.
“Let’s do this,” she laughs maniacally.
This cannot turn out good.
Chapter Four
Derek
Just when I thought Rebecca can’t be any more beautiful, she proves me wrong by stepping out of her dorm door with a light pink sundress and little heels that do no justice to her legs.
Her hair is braided and a few loose strands flutter with the wind, and her innocent blush calls for me.
I close the distance between us and stand close to her as other students watch us with fascination.
“I swear this isn’t my idea,” she clears her throat, peering through thick lashes.
“I know,” I rasp, wrapping my hand around her delicate throat and rubbing her jumping pulse.
Every picture I could find of her is nowhere near as stunning as she is right in front of me. Her style favors comfortable clothing that she can move in while this dolled-up look is definitely her friend’s doing.
Nonetheless, she is a feast to my eyes.
“Come,” I said, sliding to her side, dropping my hand down to the dip of her back where it meets her round ass.
I have enough self-control not to squeeze them.
My car attracts attention from others as it is a more expensive vehicle than the average man can afford, but I want her to sit in a space that isn’t dirtied by my business. Sometimes, I take those who can’t pay back for a ride and drop them off a little bruised. It’s a fair trade for me to go through all the trouble of tracking them down.
“Would this be considered as kidnapping?” She asks, her big, brown eyes curving nervously.
“Get in the damn car,” I growl, opening the passenger side door with more aggression than necessary.
“For the record, I’m totally against this,” Rebecca shakily grins.
I push her head down, blocking any bumps to her head. This technique is used by the police a lot to avoid lawsuits about police brutality, but I do it so she doesn’t get hurt. I would be so angry at myself for not being able to prevent something that I could have seen.
I go around my car and drop into the driver seat, making the car rumble to life as I wait for her to snap on the seatbelt. I leave mine off and drive away from the parking area. Memorizing the roads is easy as I have been driving around the city to look for those scumbags in hiding.
Originally, I didn’t have time to see Rebecca as there are other people that I need to see. Their payment deadline is up, but I let the men who work for me handle them. I have trust in them to get the work done. They have been with me and around the block far too many times to not know the drill.
