Twenty-Six
Blair
I hurried backto my dorm in Enzo’s pajamas, my bare feet hitting the floor.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but people were already heading to class. I upped my pace, wondering if Daphne had already left for the morning.
When I walked in, I found Daphne at the vanity.
Enzo told me not to say anything to anyone about Brooks, but can I hide this from Daphne?
She was about the only person I felt comfortable talking to anymore.
Is that breaking Fawn rules?
It seemed like everything was breaking Fawn rules.
She turned in her stool to look at me, mascara wand in hand. “Girl, it’s about time you got here. I missed you last night.” She waggled the wand at me. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, shutting the door behind me, and sounded out of breath. “Yeah.”
She motioned toward my body. “I like the outfit choice.”
I pulled at the edge of Enzo’s pajama shirt. “Enzo’s.”
“Figured since you’d left with him last night. Did you sleep in your Fawn room?”
I shook my head, walking toward her. “How’d you know about those?”
“Clarissa stayed in the Fawn Quarters sometimes.” She capped the mascara. “She’d hang out with other Fawns there.”
“I’ve only been there once, but I didn’t see any other Fawns.”
In that area, I’d felt so alone.
Like I was a lonely fawn, lost in the woods, who had no one. If there were other Fawns, why wasn’t Enzo introducing me to them?
I sat on the edge of her bed, staring up at her. “I stayed in Enzo’s room.”
“Holy shit!” Her eyes widened. “Clarissa definitely never stayed in Enzo’s bedroom. I don’t think she even knew where it was.”
“Really?”
“Told you,” she said, singing the words and swaying her shoulders. “He’s being different with you than he was with her.” She smirked while sliding a lip gloss wand over her lips. “Blair may be the Fawn who changes Enzo Marchetti.” A dramatic sigh left her. “Who would’ve thought?”
Not only did I definitely not want to talk about that, but all that kept playing in my mind was a bloody Brooks storming inside Enzo’s room.
“What happened with you and Brooks was crazy,” I commented, trying tocasuallylean into the conversation.
“Brooks is an asshole.” She dropped her lip gloss into the vanity drawer and slammed it shut. “Always has been. Always will be.”
“Whenever I saw him on TV, he seemed like the total opposite.”
“That’s politics, baby.” She stretched her legs to push the stool out from under the vanity and stood. “That’s how so many of us here at Saint Vale are. Growing up, we have this image we have to fit in. We fake it because that’s what’s alwaysexpected of us.”
I ran a hand through the knots in my hair. “Do you fake it?”
“Not as much as I used to. After my father was arrested, I started being myself more. I no longer had anyone to impress.”
