My heart feels like it stops beating inside my chest.
A tall, gangly man I’vedefinitelymet before.
More than that even.
At his side, a third guy—the spitting image of the ganglier fellow, with the same jet-black locks and glacial blue eyes—gives me a dirty look when I’m steadied by the dean.
“Ms. Anderson, how lovely it is to run into you. We’ve not had a chance to chat since you started classes,” Dean Bauer says, his beady little rat eyes raking over me.
His smile is tight, and I wonder for a moment if he knows what we did to his house.
But he doesn’t say anything—just like Asher and Quincy predicted. Nobody online mentioned it either, so I assume this is just another thing they’ll pretend never happened.
“How are you finding Avernia?” he continues. “Excellent, I hope. We’ve really poured our hearts and souls into the quality of education at our institution.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, twisting away from his grip. I avoid meeting the older man’s gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get to my dorm before?—”
“Anderson, hmm?” the older one drawls, and as he turns his focus toward me more fully, I notice his cheeks are gaunt, adding to the sallow look of his facial muscles. Like the life’s been slowly bled out of him for years. Decades even. He looks like a vampire, and though I don’t necessarily believe in the paranormal, Idobelieve in scary white men who want to devour young girls.
And I know better than to get close to this one again.
“Ah, yes, this is Noelle.” Dean Bauer claps his hand onto my shoulder, pulling me forward a little. “Our newest addition to the Avernia College roster.”
The older man glances between us. “So the Anderson boy dropped out?”
“Oh, well…um. No.” Dean Bauer’s face falls. “Asher is still enrolled.”
“I see.” The older man sniffles, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief, which he then proceeds to cough a lung into.
That cough echoes between my ears like an incessant drum. My fingers grow numb, my limbs taut as I wait to see if he mentions it.
Mentionsme.
A sickly man sits behind a glass desk with a metal name plate that readsJean-Louis. The entire office is glass, revealing West Washington Boulevard and a smattering of other businesses up and down the street. If you look hard enough, you can see the domed roof of the Grandeur Playhouse, where my acting troupe has been putting on a highly anticipated production ofThe Glass Menagerie.
I bombed my audition for Laura, but nobody knows except me and the director.
And now this stranger.
His eyes are like twin lakes frozen over, and as he slides a tablet across the desk, I see myself on the screen.
Naked. Vulnerable. Writhing beneath assistant director Aaron Buckley and his girlfriend, Thalia, who both promised secrecy if I could get them off at the same time.
They swore it was a stepping stone, and stupidly, I thought…
I believed them.
Fuck. I’ve been at this for so long with so little to show, and I just gave up.
Sold out. Wanted to prove to my family what I’m capable of and to myself that I’m not just a screwup of epic proportions.
I wanted to be more than the terrified girl who aided in the demise of some faceless stranger years ago, whose memory has been haunting me ever since.
Wanted too much.
“I’m sure you’re aware this type of behavior raises questions about your ethics and talent,Elle.”
I hate how he says my name. Like he’s earned the right to.
