Breathless 3 (Breathless #3) by Claire Adams

BREATHLESS
#3
    The
Breathless Series Book #3
    BAD
BOY FRAT
    By
Claire Adams

 
    This
book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are
products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not
to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual
events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 
    Copyright
© 2015 Claire Adams

 
 
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    Chapter
One
    If I had thought that searching information about
Claire White was going to put my mind at ease, I had been disastrously wrong. I
didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night — or if I did, it snuck through so
many moments of heart-pounding anxiety and unease that I didn’t even notice it.
The next morning, I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed after hitting the
snooze on my alarm three times, when I knew that I couldn’t delay the
inevitable any longer. I might be terrified of what I had — somewhat, at least
— discovered about Johnny, but that didn’t mean I had an excuse not to go to
class. Professor Grant, I can’t come in.
I just found out that my boyfriend might be a psychopath and I haven’t slept at
all.
    I got dressed mindlessly, feeling like my brain itself
ached, pulling on my clothes mechanically in the pale light coming through my
dorm window. I couldn’t even process what I had read about Johnny the night
before; surely it was a complete misunderstanding. There had to be some
explanation. I tried to think, tried to remember what Johnny had told me about
the girl when we had been alone together. She had been troubled and he couldn’t
save her. I hadn’t been able to figure out just what had gone down — just that
apparently Claire had been horrifically mistreated by some boys and that
somehow Johnny had been involved.
    I was haunted by the accusation against Johnny as I
stumbled my way out of the dorms and started towards the dining hall to grab
something to eat. I knew I wouldn’t have time to get a proper breakfast — my
sleepless snoozing had seen to that — but I also knew that nothing at all in my
churning stomach wouldn’t do anything to help me focus through my morning
classes. Not that I’m going to be able to
focus anyway. I grabbed a banana, an apple, and a travel cup of coffee as
quickly as I could, darting in and out of the dining hall and even brushing
past some people in line ahead of me without a word. Most of them were too
bleary-eyed to complain.
    As I walked out towards my classes, I felt like I was
trapped underwater. Mom and Dad had taken me on a cruise once when I’d been
about ten. One of the activities they’d signed us up for had been snorkeling,
and at first I had been as eager as anyone on the ship to go along. But the sea
had been choppy, and out of the blue as I was minding my own business, staring
down into the reef through my mask, a wave crested over my snorkel and the
undertow pulled me in its wake. My snorkel filled up and I struggled under the
water, trying to find the surface even as I panicked, my mouth filling with
brackish brine.
    That same feeling came over me as I walked along the
pathway to the building for my first class of the day, trying not to look at
anyone. I didn’t know what to think. Obviously, it had been too good to be true;
I had suspected that from the