I feel a shudder run along my spine. Drew’s phone rings and he gives me an apologetic look before answering. I’m too caught up in what I’ve just learned to care though. To do much of anything but digest this piece of information.

He hangs up. “Shit, totally forgot my meeting with the counselor.” He stands, finishes the last of his coffee and stuffs his text book into his backpack. Drew attends University of Pennsylvania with me. “Speaking of, did you decide what you’ll do with the Dayton internship?”

This is the reason I was at the warehouse to begin with. Professor Dayton owns Dayton Architecture, a leading firm in the Philadelphia area. I had a shot at a spot there for the summer, and ignored the stories about him being handsy with the interns. At least until I got a taste of it last week in a private meeting.

“Well, I’m not going to sleep with him for an internship and since I couldn’t get the photos I wanted to work on, I’m guessing it’s off the table.”

“Prick.” He zips his backpack, looks at me. “You can report—”

“Who’d believe me? He’s too well connected. Besides, I’ll find something else.”

“I disagree, but it’s up to you. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I wave him off. “Don’t worry about me.”

He leans down to give me a hug, but I catch his sleeve when he’s about to go.

“Drew, is that all for real?” I ask. “The story about the girl?”

He looks at me for a minute, his expression becoming worried. “Nat, real or not, you can’t get involved with someone like that.”

I shrug a shoulder, break eye contact. “I’m not. It’s just a strange story.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

I finish the last of my coffee and get up to leave. It’s already dark out and the weather report had mentioned snow, which I really hoped would just be rain, but no such luck. I put my hood up and shove my hands into my pockets to walk the six blocks home all the while thinking about what Drew told me.

The story seems ridiculous, unbelievable and old-fashioned.

Would someone really do that? Lock away a girl of sixteen? Own her? What the hell does that even mean?

Flurries quickly turning into large, fluffy flakes blanket the ground. It would be beautiful except that right now, my brain’s busy processing. I feel kind of stupid. Drew’s right. I have no business thinking anything about a guy like Sergio Benedetti. I shouldn’t even let him in if he comes back for that cup of coffee.