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“Tell me you’re not waiting to get ‘discovered.’” She uses air quotes. “Because unless you have contacts or crazy-rich parents, that shit does notwork.”
My stomach flips over, the excitement I’ve been feeling tinged withdread.
“My parents don’t know I’m at Vanier,” I admit. Without meaning to, I feel for the phone wedged into the front pocket of my skinny jeans tucked into black suede ankleboots.
Elle holds a hand in front of her mouth, mock aghast. “Well, now you’re gettinginteresting.”
I shake my head as she links arms with me, and we flow toward thedoor.
When I got admitted to Vanier, I decided not to tell anyone here that I’m Jax Jamieson’sdaughter.
I’m in a new city with a fresh start I desperately need. I’ve built my skills and my confidence. This is my chance to prove it to myself and theworld.
But this morning’s assembly in the huge auditorium is a reminder that there are a thousand other students who want exactly the same thing, and we’re competing for mentorship and attention andfunding.
On top of which… I lied to my dad and Haley about where I was going to school. The fact that he’d transferred the money for tuition directly to me, like I’d asked, made iteasier.
It also made me feelguiltier.
A familiar face near the doors is alifeline.
“Hey, Beck!” I call, and the dark-haired guy I met at orientation yesterday turns toward myvoice.
He has a few inches on me, a broad and infectious grin, and sparkling eyes. He knows he’s good looking, and he wants the world to enjoy it as much as hedoes.
“Hey, Annie. You survived assembly. That’s the first hurdle. The next is to keep your mouth shut while these people brag about how epic theyare.”
I laugh. “Be deferent. Gotit.”
“Hold on a sec. Don’tmove.”
He disappears, and Elle makes a noise at my side. “Who’sthat?”
“My mentor. You didn’t sign up forone?”
“No. Clearly Ishould’ve.”
Beck returns to us through the crowd. “Annie, this is my roommate,Tyler.”
It takes a moment to notice the guy at Beck’s side. Once I do, my feet root to thefloor.
Beck’s tall; he’s taller. Beck’s dark; he’s darker. Handsome. Built for sleepless nights and unhealthyobsessions.
There’s no blue in Tyler’s hair anymore. It’s raven black and spiked at thefront.
He’s wearing fitted jeans, a faded black Henley rolled up at the sleeves. Same tan skin, stubborn chin, but a chest made broader by the years. Ink peeks out from under his shirtsleeve.
This spring, I walked in for auditions and spotted Tyler in a rehearsalroom.
The second we locked gazes, my number was called and I took off. Somehow, I got through my audition and even made itin.
I reminded myself Vanier was a big school. We’d probably never even crosspaths.
So much forthat.
Tyler at twenty is different from Tyler at eighteen. If he was handsome before, he’s devastating now. It’s as if the boy I knew walked off the earth, fought countless battles, and returned a man, vowing never to tell a soul except for the shadows flitting behind hiseyes.
He ripped out my heart more than a year ago, but it healed. Maybe it’s not the same shape it was, or the same size, but I patched it up with ambition and resolve. There are no cracks in itanymore.
