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“Miss Drummond, Miss Laurent.” My head flew up to see Mr. Hicks, his mouth set in a flat line. “See me after class.”
Great.
The rest of the morning I did my best to ignore the whispers that followed me everywhere, the attention almost unbearable. People who had never given me the time of day before were openly staring, gossiping about me as if I was the latest source of entertainment. As my discomfort grew, so did my anger at Carter, until I felt like I was about to explode.
When lunchtime rolled around, I hid away in the huge library, and instead of heading to the English class that I shared with Carter in the afternoon, I stayed tucked into a tiny alcove in the archives. I tried to bury myself in my textbooks, but after my phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time, I finally gave in and opened my notifications.
I shouldn’t have looked.
Texts from unknown numbers, and comments on the AHS gossip site photo…all negative.
Who the fuck is Raine Laurent?
Didn’t realise he was that desperate
Hope he didn’t get an STD from her diseased mouth
WHORE
I’d give you a tenner to suck my dick
If you want a real man, text 06817332111
The afternoon seemed endless. I didn’t make it to any of my other classes, remaining hidden among the books. As soon as the bell rang to announce the end of the school day, I gathered up my things and escaped to the theatre. Being pretty much in charge of costume design, and getting close to the dress rehearsal stage, I had to be on hand for alterations, and I still had to finish sewing the additional outfits for the lead characters.
Dylan paused, paintbrush in hand, to throw me a sympathetic glance, giving me a hesitant wave from his position balanced precariously on a ladder in front of a partially painted backdrop on the stage. I returned his wave, continuing on to the backstage area and into the room where the costumes were kept. Sinking down into the seat in front of the large drafting table, I finally took a breath. Being in the one place in this school that I loved soothed me, and I felt myself relax in tiny increments as I lost myself in my needlework.
“Hold still…” I mumbled through a mouthful of pins, as I carefully tacked the fabric around Imogen, our lead actress. I finished pinning it into place then stepped back, eyeing her critically. “Hmm. I think maybe I’ll bring the hem up another inch. What do you think?”
She eyed herself in the full-length mirror, all shiny jet-black hair, porcelain skin, and small, delicate features. Her brows pulled together. “Hold it up?” Even her voice was sweet. How she’d managed to gain queen bee status in our school, I’d never know. I suppose it didn’t hurt that her parents were diplomats, her older brother was a professional footballer for Manchester United, and her best friend Anastasia Egerton’s family were peers. Ana’s dad was an actual earl, or something. Rumour had it, the royal princes had attended her last birthday party, although I had no idea if that was true or not.
“There.” I lifted the fabric, and she nodded.
“That looks good to me. Thanks.” Her dark eyes flicked to mine for a moment. “Are you okay? After the…thing this morning?” Her tone was careful.
“I’m fine,” I assured her, willing myself to believe my own words. She gave me a sceptical look, but she didn’t push it. There was nothing she could do, anyway. In fact, her best friend, Anastasia, was Carter’s ex-girlfriend.
“For what it’s worth, I could tell it wasn’t you in the picture. I’m sure that if people looked at it closely, they’d be able to see that.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged uncomfortably and cast around for a change of subject. “Are rehearsals going better, now? I don’t get to see much, being backstage.”
“I think so.” She seized onto the change of subject, her expression opening up. “I’m channelling Johanna and constantly reminding myself that this is only acting, and Xavier isn’t Xavier, he’s Anthony.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I won’t deny, though, kissing Xave again, after everything? That’s going to be difficult.”
I was surprised she’d been so open with me. “Yeah,” I agreed, not that I’d know. From all I was aware of, she’d had a bad breakup with Carter’s friend Xavier at the end of the last school year. I had no idea of the details, but you could feel the tension between them every time they were in a room together. They were both talented actors, though—Xavier, surprisingly so, since he’d never shown any interest in drama until this year. Hopefully their acting skills would be enough to get them through, even though the play called for them to pretend to be in love.
Anyway, not my problem. If it wasn’t a situation like now, where I had to forcibly spend time with them, I’d stay as far away from Carter and his friends as possible.
“You’re all finished,” I told her. “I’ll get those alterations done ready for next time.” After making a note on my clipboard, I unpinned her, and she disappeared back into the auditorium.
“Why is he so obsessed with you?” I spun around to find Xavier Wright eyeing me, his gaze contemplative. My cheeks heated. I couldn’t deny it, I’d had a bit of a crush on him. Not anymore, but at one point I couldn’t even look at him without feeling all hot and flushed. He was absolutely gorgeous. Tall, dark, and handsome didn’t even come close. And his smile? Girls more or less swooned when he directed it at them. Imagine Tyrese Gibson’s smile and multiply it by ten, and you still wouldn’t be close.
I realised I’d been staring at him without saying anything when the corners of his lips curved upwards. “Still tongue-tied around me, huh?” He shook his head. “I just don’t get his obsession,” he muttered to himself. Then he stepped closer and cocked his head. “We doing these costumes, or what? I don’t have all day.”
Ah, yeah. There was a hint of that asshole behaviour. One of the reasons I’d quickly managed to get over my little crush on him. That, and the fact he was in Carter’s inner circle. “Y-yes. Could, you sit down, please.” I cleared my throat. “You’re mostly done, but I need to measure your head for the hat.”
He nodded, crossing to the chair and sprawling back in it, all long limbs and lithe, graceful lines. I grabbed the measuring tape from the workbench and came to stand next to him. “Keep your head still, please.” I carefully wrapped the tape around his head, idly admiring the swirling pattern shaved into the back, then returning my attention to the task at hand. “Hmm, your head isn’t as big as I thought.”
My annoying habit of vocalising my inner thoughts reared its ugly head, as I realised when he swung his gaze to meet mine.
