I’m observant in a way—maybe more observant of others than I am of myself and the problems brewing around me.
Like I don’t know if I would’ve figured out Dray’s offer, or his signing of my contract, if I wasn’t told the truth. But I would’ve suspected—and shoved the horror of it down.
I think I would’ve known.
I just wouldn’t have believed myself.
But now, his ex-fiancé is in my face over her boyfriend, also sort of my ex.
This isn’t how I saw my final year at the academy going.
Asta asks it straight, “Did you sleep with him?”
And I know she doesn’t mean Dray.
Still, I play dumb. My brow knits. “Who?”
Her lips curl around her white teeth. “Eric.”
I wrangle back a theatrical groan, a ‘this bitch is getting on my last nerves’ performance. “No, Asta,” I start, and the exhaustion drips from my tone. “I told you then, I’ll tell you now. I didn’t fuck him. He didn’t fuck me. We’ve never even kissed. And honestly, I’m sick of talking about it, I’m sick of your obsession and paranoia about it. So I will tell you one last time, and never again.”
Her chin lifts, but her face is lacking the severity to fool me. There’s hope in her eyes, burning, hanging on my every word, and I’m sure she pins her breath, just so she doesn’t miss a word.
“My father was opening my contract to the gentry. Eric also happened to be my tutor for Star Theory, which I needed.”
Asta nods, faint, like she already knows these details, and it’s adding validity to what I’m telling her.
“Father asked me if there was anyone that he should give special consideration to. I did mention Eric. I said he was kind and fair.” I take a step closer, bringing me nose to nose with Asta’s painfully hopeful face. “That is it. Someone else came in with an offer—and that changed everything.”
The lies and omissions are for my own benefit, not hers.
Maybe one day I can use it against her.
Maybe not.
Right now, it’s just not worth the drama, the headache,thefight.
Serena throws hands quicker than Asta, but I have seen this ice queen in action before. In this very bathroom, three years ago, her and Mildred went at it.
Mildred hit first.
Asta obviously would’ve been annihilated if it wasn’t for Serena throwing in a kick to Mildred’s knees every time she tried to stand up—and that gave Asta a shot.
I didn’t see who won, because I got the hell out of here before the target could switch to me, but I did see Asta literally slam Mildred’s face into the hard tiled floors about three times.
That is not an experience I need right now.
I have enough problems.
So maybe I lie to protect myself.
It doesn’t really matter.
None of this does, Asta, Eric, Serena, Landon, James, Courtney.
All that matters is that thing I keep pushing back down to my worming gut, and each time it springs back up—the memoriesof the other night, answering those fucking questions, telling Courtney everything, too much—my insides are thrashing.
I wrap this up with the ultimate appeasement.
