"f**k, s**t," I mutter, scrambling over toward my bag, which rests against the foot of my desk. I squat down, fingers darting to shuffle through its contents. Yep. Sure enough, I’m missing two textbooks and a binder.
I retrieve my phone from my back pocket to reply to Jax.
“I didn't even realize I left them at your place. Sorry. I'll swing by to pick them up in a few,” I hastily type back.
Naturally, my life has been so dishevelled lately (thanks to the certain dual-identity of a former English Lit professor/lover and current sworn-enemy) that the instant I finally have a free second to work on grading papers for Thorne, I realize my books are missing. And in the same five seconds that I pick up my phone to ask Jax if he has them, he texts me to confirm that they’re sitting in the corne
