CHAPTER 11
KENNEDY’S DIASTOLIC blood pressure must have dropped at least twenty points. She didn’t yell. Raising her voice might attract whatever fiend her roommate had invited. Seriously? Seriously! Willow was always hooking up with strangers, but a random man at least in his thirties she met at a bakery?
“When’s he coming over?” Kennedy’s voice quivered, but she didn’t care. Disgust and fear warred against each other in her stomach. It was a miracle she didn’t have a dozen ulcers after a semester like this.
“We weren’t going to meet until tomorrow,” Willow answered. “You know I don’t do that kind of stuff until you’re out.”
Kennedy shut her eyes. Think. She had to think. Come up with a plan. Which was harder than it sounded after functioning on a few hours of sleep each night. Why di
