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Writer's pictureCrystal Crawford

Chapter 18 - Declan

Declan shifted in his chair, the fake brown leather creaking under him as he moved. He was still waiting for the officer to return. What was taking so long? Declan hated this stupid campus security office. It smelled like armpit, despite the fact that it was as cold as an iceberg. How could a person sweat enough to get stinky armpits with temperatures like this? But even more than he hated the room, he hated waiting. Waiting was a waste of time, especially since they'd taken his phone, meaning he could do nothing but sit and stare at the ugly room and think.

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