Maybe I can figure out how to exist in a world where I know what Devlin Bower sounds like when he’s losing control.
I round the corner near the student center, still moving fast, and slam directly into someone.
“Jesus Christ!” Monica Vance stumbles back, her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her travel mug. “Watch where you’re going, Wylie!”
“Sorry, sorry!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t—I didn’t see you.”
Monica steadies herself, pushing her dark purple-streaked hair out of her face.
She’s wearing her signature black everything—ripped jeans, vintage band t-shirt, leather jacket covered in pins. Her eyeliner is perfect, sharp enough to cut, and her expression is pure annoyance.
“Of course you didn’t see me,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Too busy thinking about your precious rescue animals to notice actual humans, right?”
I force a smile, trying to channel some of my usual diplomacy even though my brain is still stuck in a dark hallway with Devlin’s hands on my body. “Monica, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about alternative spaces—”
“Save it.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I’ve heard the speech. The music building has a waiting list. The performing arts center is booked solid. Nobody cares thatCrimson Requiemneeds a rehearsal space because, oh no, Valentine Wylie’s sad hamsters might not have anywhere to live.”
“They’re not hamsters, they’re—” I catch myself. “Look, I genuinely want to help. If I could find you a space, I would. You know that, right?”
Monica’s expression softens for just a fraction of a second before the armor goes back up. “What I know is that you got the room because the administration thinks you’re adorable and wholesome. Meanwhile, my band—which could actually make this school relevant in the local music scene—gets nothing.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Aha, life’s not fair, Wylie.” She takes a sip of her coffee, eyeing me over the rim. “You look like shit, by the way. What happened to you?”
My heart stutters. “Nothing. Just tired.”
“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Well, enjoy your exhaustion. And your building. But you don’t think I’m just going to let this go, do you?”
She walks away before I can respond, her boots clicking against the pavement in a rhythm that sounds vaguely threatening.
I stand there for a moment, letting my heart rate return to something approaching normal, then continue toward the dining hall where I’m supposed to meet Lizzy.
She’s already there, sitting at our usual table near the windows with two cups of coffee and a concerned expression.
“Val.” She stands up as I approach, pulling me into a quick hug. “You okay? Your text last night was weird.”
“Yeah, I—” I collapse into the chair across from her, suddenly exhausted. “Something happened. Something really strange.”
Liz pushes one of the coffees toward me. “Tell me.”
So I do. I tell her about the Valentine’s Day card supposedly from Devlin, about the explicit content, about confronting him and discovering he’d received one supposedly from me.
I leave out everything that happened after. The kissing. The way his voice sounded when he said my name.
By the time I’m finished, Lizzy’s face has gone through several expressions—shock, concern, and something that looks almost like fear.
“Val.” Her voice is careful. “This is serious. Someone knows you’re—” She glances around, lowering her voice. “Someone knows you’re gay.”
“I know.”
“And they’re using it to fuck with you.”
“I know.”
She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “How are you doing with all this? Really?”
I stare down at our joined hands, trying to find words. “I don’t know yet. The situation is complicated because it’s Devlin, and he’s…” I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence. “And he’s still close with Sasha, even though Sasha already moved to play professionally. They still talk all the time.”
