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Too late. He’s leaving now. See you in ten.
Fiona
Ugh, fine.
I glance up to find Seb watching me. “What?” I ask, sticking my hands in my hoodie pouch self-consciously.
“You’re sure you’re doing okay here?” he asks, his tone low and serious.
I put on my best little sister smile—the one I’ve been wearing since my mom died. “I’m good, Seb. I promise.”
“Pinky swear?”
“I’m not going to pinky swear with you. We’re not twelve,” I snark.
“I’m not leaving until you pinky swear, Charlie.” He holds out his hand with his pinky extended.
“Fine,” I grumble, fighting a genuine smile. I lock my finger around his. “Pinky swear.”
Seb seems satisfied after that, and I walk him back to the visitor lot. I can’t help but feel the sting of sadness in my chest ashe drives away, but I push it down and head back to my dorm to wait for Fiona.
A few minutes later, she barges into my room with several dresses draped over one arm and what looks like a damn suitcase of makeup and hair products.
“No,” I say, staring at her deadpan. “I’m not a Barbie doll.”
“You’ve been hiding all week. Don’t let Serenity think she’s won.”
I press my fingertips to my eyes in frustration. “But shehaswon. I hate even walking across the quad now. I have to listen to everyone whisper and giggle behind their hands.”
“If they’re talking about you anyway, why not give them something better to talk about?” She lays the dresses out. “This one is perfect.”
I eye the scrap of crimson fabric she’s holding. My eyes widen. “That will hardly cover my ass.”
“I’m not seeing the problem.” Fiona grins. “Plus, it’s the same color as the blood that poured from Serenity’s nose,” she continues in a sinister tone.
“Jesus, Fi, that’s dark,” I say, suppressing a laugh.
An hour later, we walk across campus, and I feel completely out of my element. Thankfully because I’m so short, the dress isn’t as scandalous as I originally thought it would be. It has a plunging neckline that showcases my ample breasts, and it cinches at my waist before flaring out, so it accentuates my curves nicely. After an argument about my shoes, we compromised with my favorite pair of calf-high brown leather boots.
Fi gave my hair some messy waves, and she fussed over my makeup. I have to say, I look pretty hot.
I slow when we come to the Wolf Building. “Wait, whose party is this?”
Fiona glances away sheepishly. “Lincoln and Trey’s.”
I stop.
“Don’t be mad,” she gushes, grabbing my hand tightly. “They throw like every campus party worth going to.”
“It’s fine,” I say haltingly before throwing her a smirk. “At least I look hot.”
“Damn straight,” she says, pulling me toward the doorway.
When we step out of the elevator, I’m completely caught off guard. The huge chandelier makes the space look like a fancy hotel foyer. I’m still gawking at the extravagant entryway when we walk through the front door.
This isn’t a normal dorm room—it’s a fucking penthouse.
The living room is huge with towering glass windows that face the dark silhouettes of the distant mountains. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the sound of blaring rap music.
