She shrugs. “Secrets have a half-life, Spence. The longer you let them sit, the more toxic they get.”
I sigh, the sound echoing in the tiny studio. “If I tell him, it’ll be social suicide. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Sara pokes my shoulder. “Or maybe he’ll think it’s cool that you punked the whole campus. Maybe he’ll seeyou.”
I stare at the ring lamp, the way the light bends around her and makes everything else look dimmer by comparison. “You’re more optimistic than I am.”
She laughs, the sound low and warm. “That’s why you come to me, Monty. To borrow some hope.”
I let myself laugh, and it feels weirdly good. Maybe the world won’t end if Aaron finds out. Maybe I could survive the fallout.
Sara stands, brushes off her hands, and offers me the mug. “Drink. You look like you’re about to faint.”
I take it, the handle warm from her grip. “Thanks.”
As I leave, the smell of paint thinner trails me down the hallway. I don’t know if I’m any closer to a solution, but for the first time all week, the air feels breathable.
—ΠΩ—
Back in my room, I sit at the edge of the bed and stare at my closet. The wig is still there, still daring me to pick it up and own it. I don’t. But I don’t hide it better, either.
I lie back, close my eyes, and replay the conversation with Sara. The words stick to me, tenacious as acrylic.It’s okay to want things. You don’t have to explain them away.
I think of Aaron, of the heat in the dark, and the way his voice always sounds like he’s challenging the universe to prove him wrong. I think about how it would feel to be seen by him—not just as a joke or a dare, but as a person.
Maybe that’s what I want.
I sit up, grab my note pad, and start to write. Not chemistry notes this time. Just a list:
1. Tell the truth, eventually.
2. Survive until then.
3. Don’t let Hunter make a TikTok about it.
It’s a plan. Not a good one, but better than nothing.
Somewhere outside, the world goes on. In here, I feel a little less alone.
Chapter 6
By the time I walk into the campus coffee shop, every table is occupied and there’s a ten-person line snaking out the door. Hunter is already inside, having claimed a two-top by the window and a pastry display’s worth of scones. He’s texting with both hands, grinning at the screen, one leg propped on the opposite chair like he owns the place.
He spots me instantly, waving me over with a dramatic arm swoop. “Montgomery!” he shouts, making at least three people in line look up. “You’re late, but I forgive you. Coffee?”
I shake my head and slide into the seat, pushing his foot off with a nudge. “You seem chipper.”
Hunter slides his phone across the table. The screen shows Aaron’s Instagram story—today’s episode in the never-ending saga. “I mean, wouldn’t you be? We’re living in a sitcom right now.”
In the video, Aaron holds up a blurry flyer: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN? Beneath is a photoshopped rendering of Jessica Rabbit with my approximate jawline. “Legend has it,” Aaron says into the camera, “she roams campus to this very day.”
I groan and slide the phone back. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
Hunter grins, teeth even and white. “I’m loving that you finally got some attention, Monty. And that it’s killing the golden boy of Pi Omega.” He gestures at the phone. “He’s gone full Pepe Silvia about you.”
I try to hide my face in my hands, but it’s too late. “I didn’t want this to be a thing. I thought it would die off within a week.”
“Dude, viral infamy doesn’t have an expiration date,” Hunter says, picking up his drink—a venti Frankenstein’smonster of espresso, whipped cream, and crushed cookies. He sips it, leaving a white mustache, and licks it off without shame. “This is the best prank ever. You should see the group chat.”
