“I went to the library.” Fletcher scoffs. “And what, battled a velociraptor? You look like shit.” She leans against the counter and takes in the disheveled sight before her. The mussed-up hair. The shreds of the jacket’s lining hanging below its hem. My guilty-as-fuck expression. I fucked your grad student in the library, my thoughts blare on repeat. I scowl down at my wrist. “Oh my god,” Fletch says. “You had sex.” “What the fuck?” “Who was it?” “How did you—” “It was Bria, wasn’t it?” “What the—” “Holy shit. It was Bria. And she ate you alive.” Fletcher cackles a delighted laugh. She
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