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“I called them when I got in and texted Dad this morning. Which means I’ve gone nearly forty-eight hours without blowingcover.”
Pen shakes her head. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him aboutVanier.”
“He wouldn’t have let me come. I pitched it to him five times last year. He said if I wanted his support, I would get a real undergraduate degree before deciding whether to, and I quote, ‘piss it allaway.’”
She drops her bag, settling into a seat. “Daddy J is not the best recruiter for theindustry.”
“I know he’s had issues, but they can’t be that bad. Even if they were, he never talks to me about them, so how am I supposed to decide formyself?”
I take the chair next toher.
“There’s something else,” I say under my breath. “I ran into Tyler Adams thismorning.”
Pen’s nails dig into my arm. “What thehell?”
Heads swivel towardus.
“I told you about at auditions, but I never thought I’d see him on dayone.”
Before she can respond, the professor at the front clears his throat. “Welcome to Sociology 101. If you’ll take your seats, we canbegin.”
After a moment of looking torn as the prof talks us through the course outline, my friend pulls her phone from herpocket.
Mine buzzes in my bag a momentlater.
Pen: AND HOW WAS SEEINGHIM???
So many emotions flood me I don’t know how torespond.
Annie: Weird. Horrifying. Exciting.Scary.
The third word slips out without me meaning to typeit.
Pen: Tell me he grew out of the hot badasslook.
I bite my cheek. Pen’s brows rise up her forehead, and she kicks my calflightly.
Annie: He grew intoit.
Maybe you’ll see his girlfriend.I flash back to the girl I saw in his lap the day of auditions, and my gut twistssharply.
She must be a student, too, but she wasn’t with him atassembly.
They could’ve brokenup.
Or they could bemarried.
It can’t matter. Tyler Adams can date whomever hewants.
He left because other things mattered more than me. I should be grateful for the lesson—it taught me to focus on my dreams and not myheart.
This year, I won’t fall for anyone. Especially nothim.
When class finishes, we pack up and I check my phone. “I have English at one thirty, and you have history. Want to getlunch?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Absolutely. I’m thinking of running for student government, and I need your opinion on my platform. But first, I got you apresent.”
We head to her dorm, and she opens the door to her single with a flourish. “Behold!”
