The Devil's Trill Sonata Read Online Free

breath catch.
    “Eh.” Leah shrugged. “I maintain that he’s kinda cute.”
    Jayden flicked through a couple more pictures before he was interrupted by a text from the man himself. who the fuck is timothy cooper n y did he just frend me on fb?
    Leah, reading over Jayden’s shoulder, shrieked, “Tim!” at the top of her lungs and attacked him with her napkin.
    “Oh, come on, that Ella chick already friended everyone, it was easy!” Tim started protesting. “I wanna know a gay Muslim! That’s awesome !”
    Jayden ignored them both, and replied, Don’t worry about it, ignore him :) xxx
    Freaks. Ur all freaks!
    He laughed, the knot unpicking in his chest, and before he could reply, he was offered more horrible English.
    But ilu x
    You are eighteen years old. I have seen your schoolwork. I know you can write. Stop being a retard and spell it out.
    Bitchy, arent we? fine. I love you. Better?
    “That’s so sweet I might puke,” Leah surmised, peering over his shoulder. “He’d better be way more gorgeous than those pictures.”
    “He is,” Jayden said, replying ILU2 before taking the leftover cake she pushed at him. “Thanks.”
    “No problem,” Leah said and returned to baiting Tim.
    Darren helpfully told him to piss off by text, and Jayden felt, between the banter and the presence of some people who seemed like real human beings, like maybe this Cambridge thing would be all right after all.

Chapter 3
    Darren kicked the door shut, dropped his backpack on the rug, and flopped backwards onto the bed, arms out. He bounced once, his glasses flew off onto the pillow, and he groaned at the eased pressure off his heels. Work shoes absolutely sucked .
    He was training as a crime scene examiner with the police. His first week had just finished, and they’d already progressed from desk safety (seriously?) to graphic descriptions of what happened to the human body when exposed to certain toxins. But it was interesting stuff, even if it was a lot of wandering around fake crime scenes. He’d figured in a few years, they’d all want degrees off their applicants, not just A-levels, so get in now before they started asking, and it had worked. Okay, so he’d had to move a fair way to do it, and rent wasn’t particularly cheap on the coast, but it was manageable. Pay in training sucked, but he’d get an automatic pay rise when he passed the course, and it wasn’t exactly rocket science, so…
    It was good, but god damn , being on your feet all day killed .
    He eyed the ceiling dispassionately. It was dusty up in the eaves like this. He’d rented a studio flat on the top floor of a converted house, and it was tiny. He was also fairly sure the lettings agent had lied about the insulation. He lived in what used to be a loft, and last night had been about as warm as sleeping in the park. As had every night this week.
    “Fucking hell !”
    Aaaaand then there was the neighbour. She lived in the other loft room on the other side of the stairs. Darren hadn’t met her yet—he’d only been here six days, and five of them at work. Frankly, if she was anything like the weird old lady on the first floor, he didn’t want to know. Apparently he was responsible for the Nazis and the Israel-Palestine problem. Would’ve been nice if someone had told him.
    “Hey!”
    Darren groaned. She was banging on the door. “It’s open!” he yelled.
    It banged off the wall, and Darren blinked, groped for his glasses, put them on, and squinted. Nope. Same vision.
    “Can I help you?” he asked.
    There was a girl. In his room. In a T-shirt and knickers. And socks, he noticed, but nothing between the knickers and the socks. Except these gangly bare legs that she hadn’t shaved in at least a week, that matched her general tall-and-gangly appearance, and the cropped dark hair, and the scowl. And the hands on hips pose. Not that she was very intimidating. She was…okay, she was tallish, for a girl, but she was scrawny. No boobs. Brown hair in