The other students give me a wide berth. A group of legacy boys snicker when I enter the room, but none of them make eye contact. Even the professor seems to hesitate before calling on me.
In my third class, someone has scrawled “Whore” on the desk in pink marker. The insult is so old-fashioned, it almost makes me laugh. I trace the letters with my thumb, then sit anyway.
By noon, the whispers have reached a fever pitch. I hear my name, paired with Julian’s, paired with Roth, paired with every rumor that could be spun from seeing us together as much as we have been.
I hear things I didn’t know were physically possible. I hear that he bent me over the Dean’s desk (true), that he made me beg for it (also true), that I orgasmed so loud the secretary called campus police (not true, but impressive). The last one makesme smile, because for a split second I like the idea of myself as someone so loud, so impossible to ignore.
The day stretches on. At some point, I stop noticing the stares. The girls in my last class—Business Law—are the worst. They watch me with a mixture of disgust and envy, as if I’ve stolen something precious from them. Their perfume fills the air, expensive and sickly sweet, and when I pass their table, they all go silent.
I want to scream, but instead I bite the inside of my cheek.
When the final bell rings, I am the first to stand. I gather my things and head for the quad, wanting to find a bench out on the grass and breathe fresh air. The sky is overcast, filled with the promise of rain. I walk fast, almost running, but the feeling of being watched follows me like a shadow.
At the far side of the quad, under the twisted arms of an old oak, Eve waits. She’s sitting on the low stone wall, a battered duffle bag at her feet and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
When she sees me, she grins. “Well, well. If it isn’t the new Lady Roth.”
I groan. “Don’t start.”
She hops off the wall, landing with a thud. “Too late, babe. News travels fast around here. I heard you and Julian nearly broke the old marble in the admin building. Someone said the cleaning crew found your bra in a trashcan.”
I check my pulse. It’s racing, which is not the reaction I want her to see.
“I don’t wear bras most days,” I laugh. “All lies, but we did bang over my dad’s desk. That one’s true.”
“Even better,” Eve laughs. She slings the duffle over her shoulder and falls into step beside me. “You look like shit, by the way.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “You coming tonight?”
I blink, thrown. “Coming where?”
She cocks her head, then sighs as if I am the dumbest animal on earth. “The girls are going out. Club night. You’re coming.”
“I don’t think so.” I have never been to a club. I have never even left campus after curfew, except for that one time when Julian drove me to dinner. The idea of leaving now, of being in public, of being seen, is both thrilling and nauseating.
Eve reads my hesitation and laughs. “You are so adorable. Listen. Westpoint’s a prison and the only way to survive is to escape once in a while. We need to let our hair down and let loose before we reign hell down on this place. The place is off-grid—no security, no narc-ing staff. Just music and a lot of sweaty people who have never heard the name Marcus.”
I hesitate. The thought of Julian finding out makes my heart stutter. Not because I’m afraid, but because I want him to. It’s the first time I want to do something just for myself, and it terrifies me.
Eve grins, sensing victory. “You’ve never been to a club, have you?”
I shake my head.
She beams. “Perfect. We’ll corrupt you properly.”
I want to say no. I want to go back to my cell, to curl up and lick my wounds. But something rebellious flickers in my chest. Maybe it’s the desire to spite the world. Maybe it’s the way Julian’s hands left me feeling more alive than I’ve ever been. Maybe it’s just Eve and her refusal to let me drown.
“Fine,” I say, voice softer than I mean. “I’ll go.”
Eve claps, triumphant. “Knew it. I have the perfect dress for you. Black, tight, not too slutty, but enough that you’ll give the other girls a heart attack. They’ll all assume you’re there to hunt men.”
I laugh. “Maybe I am.”
Eve gives me a look, equal parts challenge and concern. “Don’t worry about Julian. If he wanted you on lockdown, he’d have you chained to the radiator. Plus, he’s got Hunt prep all weekend. I’ll text you the address. You’ll love it, I swear.”
The promise hangs between us, a dare and a lifeline at once.
