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“What?” I force a smile.
“They’re all having a party in Veer’s apartment.”
“So?”
She flashes her eyes. “He lives in the founder’s building.”
I give her an absent nod. Our apartment block contains studios large enough for one, but the families who founded the university created a separate one for their offspring. I wouldn’t exactly describe us as Hogwarts because not every founder has sent a student they deem important enough for their special building.
Her face falls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“He invited you too,” she blurts. “You’ll come?”
The curtains open, revealing Tin Soldiers on Pluto, who turn out to be four musicians rather than the three boys on the flyer.
Charlotte squeezes my hand in a silent plea for me to accompany her.
“Sure,” I mutter as they launch into a tune starting with a mellow guitar. As the other members of the band layer their instruments over Veer’s introduction, I add, “Why not?”
It takes every ounce of effort not to turn around to see Dr. Raring cozying up to Professor Segul. Veer sings to some guy called Major Tom, and I focus on the music. The three boys are shirtless, each wearing burgundy bell bottoms with matching jackets.
I think their drummer wears the same. It’s hard to tell with half her body hidden by so many instruments, but her top half is covered by a low-cut waistcoat.
Charlotte sways to the music in an exaggerated way that jostles me to the side. I get the hint and sway back. The lyrics are peculiar and from the point of view of a control center giving instructions to an astronaut.
In a moment of weakness, I turn around to look at the professors’ table, only to find him deep in conversation with that woman. He’s even looking her in the eye.
My stomach clenches, and I snatch my gaze away.
What kind of idiot gets upset because of a business arrangement? We never talked about being exclusive. We haven’t yet kissed, let alone fucked. It’s all been blow jobs and BDSM, and I’m getting paid handsomely.
So why does it burn so much to know he’s chatting with another woman?
“They’re great,” Charlotte shouts in my ear.
“Really good,” I say back.
“Letter to Hermione,” Veer says into the microphone.
I lean forward as Tin Soldiers on Pluto plays a mellow tune that has nothing to do with wizards or magic.
“Do you know this song?” I turn to Charlotte, who passes me a clear bottle.
“What’s that?” My brow furrows.
“Schnapps. Axel gave it to me.”
I bring it to my lips and take my first sip of neat alcohol. It’s smooth and oily but burns all the way down, numbing the sting of Professor Segul.
“Thanks.” I try handing it back, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t you like it?”
She reaches into a bag at her side and extracts another bottle. “Got my own.”
I glance down at my half-finished Baileys latte, pour half the bottle’s contents in the cup, and add a sachet of sugar. It’s surprisingly drinkable.
