Intended Series Collection: Books 1-6, Abigail Grant [best thriller books to read txt] 📗

experience in more ways than one. When I find Kassy, thankfully she is still dancing with the same guy, although they are dancing a little closer than they were when I left them. She notices me watching and I quickly wave her over. She says something to her dance partner before leaving him behind to come my way.

“Having fun with Mr. Muscles out there?” I whisper to her with my eyebrows wiggling.

She actually blushes at me. “So. Much. Fun. Max is so stinkin’ cuuute!” She draws out the word cute, making me want to roll my eyes at her.

“I’m sorry to have to ruin your fun with Max but I am not feeling well all of a sudden, and you are my ride home,” I say, scrunching up my face and putting a hand to my stomach for good measure.

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll go tell him I am leaving and then we can head out.” She runs back to Max and he hands her his phone, probably for her to put her number in it. She wiggles her little fingers at him on our way out, leaving him with a dopey smirk on his face.

“Did you give him your real number?” I ask.

“Of course, I did! I’m not letting that one get away. Hopefully, we will be seeing him again very soon.”

I just chuckle at her bubbly demeanor, hoping we can get away before anything more exciting happens tonight.

Chapter 3

“Get your little behind out of bed, Kassy! You have to be in your Spanish class in less than an hour and you can’t be late on the first day!” I shout through the crack of her bedroom door. She is seriously the hardest person in the universe to wake up. “Do you want to lose your perfect attendance reputation?”

“I’m coming, Mom!” she yells back, agitated.

I don’t mind having to act like a mom from time to time. “Breakfast is on the table, dear. You’ll never become an exotic lover at this pace.” I tease quieter, receiving a growl in response.

I’ve always loved the opposition in our friendship. She is the smartest kid in school with the most spirit and enjoyment for life. I am much more likely to end up on the sidelines on most occasions, usually reading a good book. Even with our differences though, we work well together. She brings me out of my box, and I help her chill occasionally when life gets too hectic.

Thankfully, I have not had another vision since Saturday morning and I am feeling upbeat and ready for our first day at the University. I am hoping we can try and have a normal college experience without any creepy black-eyed men and dark ninjas hanging around, although I still haven’t been able to get a certain ninja with stark golden eyes out of my head.

Sounding like an angry bull, grunt and all, Kassy stomps out of her room, fully dressed in some blue jeans and an SOU student T-shirt that I bought her at orientation. “Happy?” she grumbles at me with a half-dead look on her face.

“Very. Now let’s go enjoy our adulthood by sitting in big classrooms for hours and trying not to fall asleep.”

“Oh, joy.” She gives me a huge fake smile and swipes two pieces of bacon and a biscuit off the counter before making her way to the door.

***

The University campus is incredibly gorgeous, scattered with buildings that are large works of art on their own. I make my way along the concrete paths carved through the manicured green lawn, to my first class of the semester, Professor Neilson’s Art History class. I have been so excited to learn about art from a real professional whose livelihood depends on his knowledge of the subject. My high school didn’t offer many art classes, so I only got to learn the basics from teachers who drew the short straw for the position, but I have always loved everything about creative arts.

I reach the door with the number 114 on it and find a comfortable seat near the back of the class. The front row kids are usually the ones who are expected to be the know-it-alls and that is definitely not me. I look around the spacious classroom and notice that I am one of the first students to show up, so I pull out a book to read. Less than a full chapter in, I begin to get the itchy ‘being watched’ feeling and am unable to focus on the words scrawled out on the pages of my murder mystery novel.

I glance around the room that is slowly filling up and notice a guy to my right, just a few seats down from me in my same row. He is staring at the large empty whiteboard at the front of the room, seemingly mesmerized by it, likely lost in thought. I study him for a moment, and I am immediately aware of how handsome he is.

He has a five o’clock shadow dusting his strong, sun-kissed jaw and his dark hair sits atop his head in a relaxed, unkempt kind of way that just makes him seem fun and kind of sweet. Even sitting down, I can tell he is tall and built like an athlete with thick arms. He is dressed in a simple gray shirt and dark, loose-fitting jeans. Everything about him is very man, not at all like the teenage boys I’ve been used to.

I feel like I could even drool as I ogle the gorgeous guy next to me. I turn my attention back to his handsome face and over his chocolate-brown eyes, which I quickly realize are locked onto mine. My eyes widen to their fullest extent, which is quite large, and I quickly snap my head forward as a hot red blush creeps up my neck like a fever. I cannot believe he caught me checking him out and practically drooling all over myself. Great job, idiot.

After a few seconds, I chance