Epilogue Two
Three Years Later
“Hold still for one more second,” Klara mouths, twisting the strands of hair on either side of my face into loose curls, “and done!”
Taking a step back, she jumps up and down, clapping her hands at her handiwork, until she remembers that in the deaf community, we shake our funky little jazz hands instead of clapping. It’s far less offensive on the eyes and the implants.
Swiveling on the stool, I take the handheld mirror Klara passes me and angle it toward the dresser mirror to catch the full reflection of the masterpiece she’s created with my hair.
Rose-shaped buns cascade from just above my ear down to my nape in a soft, swooping motion, the rest tucked neatly into a chiffon bun underneath.
At the front, one long curl falls on either side of my face.
She picks up my receivers and gently snaps them into place, careful not to mess up her design.
“I don’t want to sound vain,” she giggles once they’re switched on, “but I’m fucking amazing.” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
“You always sound vain,” I joke. Well, mostly.
Klara takes no offence either way. As she finishes studying her masterpiece, she takes the handheld mirror back and turns it on herself to check her makeup.
As always, she’s stunning, her blue eyes framed by long lashes, her skin blemish-free and glowing with a confidence that took time to nurture back to life.
Stroking a finger along her lipline to check her gloss hasn’t smudged, she looks up at me with a singular brow raised.
“Next time I do your hair like this, it had better be for your wedding and not some poxy graduation.” This time, I laugh wholeheartedly, pushing to my feet and smoothing down my black robes.
“Excuse me,” I say, making finger quotes, “my boyfriend is the valedictorian for this ‘poxy graduation’, and you’re just as excited for today as I am.” Klara's eyes soften, going all dreamy as she glances upwards.
“Only because the handsome new trustee will be giving out our diplomas,” she sighs, “and he is the definition of a H. O. T sugar daddy. Hunkier Over Time.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk over to her bed, picking up our yellow sashes and handing Klara hers.
After a very public press release announcing the academy's change of hands, most of the board and all of the investors were forced out to avoid conspiracy charges with Arthur. There’s no knowing just how deep his knack for blackmail and fraud ran, especially since he’s sitting in a jail cell for the next twenty-five years and apparently taking a vow of silence.
I take pride in the lesson I taught him.
Only say what you intend to be heard, for you never know who could be listening.
As such, a completely new Board of Trustees has taken over, and the students couldn’t be happier.
There are thirty-three in total, all wealthy past alumni of Waversea.
It was their decision to make the college public again, award more scholarships than ever before, and finally revamp the archaic rules.
Suddenly, a generic pop song I don’t know the name of bursts to life in my head, making me flinch so hard that my knees nearly give out. Obvious to the festival happening within the confines of my skull, Klara looks over her shoulder and says, “Addy’s here.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I grasp my temples just as the fuchsia fuckwit parades into Klara’s room.
I snatch the phone out of her hand, pausing the music so I can finally hear myself think again.
“Stop connecting to my implants. I nearly shat out my heart.” Addy’s eyebrows lift, but her mouth can’t hide the growing smile spreading across it.
This girl is going to be the death of me one of these days.
“I just thought I’d get you in the celebrating mood, and I know how dull your playlist is.” Rolling my eyes, I look over the leggings and tank top she left in this morning, her robes flung over her arm.
“Have you been setting up this whole time?” I ask. “Why didn’t you message me for help?”
“I did, slut bag,” she retorts. I check my phone to see I have thirteen messages and six missed calls, most of them from Addy.
Oops. “It’s fine. A bunch of meatheads with muscles for days saw me bent over in my TikTok leggings and rushed to assist me.
” There’s something about the way she says that last part that has my suspicions rising.
Looking closer, I don’t think the wild ruffle in her pink hair has anything to do with ceremony prep after all.
“You’ve been doing the nasty with some strangers while the rest of your event committee set up the ceremony, haven’t you?” I gasp, dropping onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic scoff. “And you called me a slut bag.”
“Oh, don’t you judge me, Miss I-get-DP’ed-every-night,” Addy sneers in mock jealousy.
She knows that’s not true, it’s barely once a week.
“And besides, you should have seen them. Four interns from the builder’s group, all ripped to death and wearing cargo shorts.
You know what I’m like for a good set of strong calves.
Like everyone says, thick calves, thick cocks. ”
“Literally no one says that,” I drawl, shaking my head. Klara drops onto the mattress beside me, careful to keep her robes flat.
“Agreed. But… was it? Thick, I mean?” In response, Addy snatches up my can of Coke and pretends to measure her hands around it, tilting her head back and forth in consideration.
Her chocolate brown eyes meet ours, and we all burst out laughing.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about Addy over the last few years is that she’s rarely serious and rarely sated.
“Go shower, we’ll be leaving soon,” I scoot her towards the bathroom.
The faucet switches on before I’ve closed the door on her, shaking my head at myself again.
“I hope she never changes,” I grin. Although with this being the last day of us all being together on campus, it’s inevitable that she will.
These days, Addy spends more nights sleeping at other people’s places than she does in the private dorm she shares with Klara.
She drifts easily between men and women, following wherever her inhibitions, or lack thereof, take her.
Still, I seriously doubt the prestigious dance academy she’ll be interning at will allow much room for such recreational activities.
I’d decided to get ready with the girls today, leaving the boys to do whatever it is they do when I’m not around.
Play Xbox until five minutes before they need to panic, throw on robes, and sprint out the door, I imagine.
Their bromance has improved vastly over the years, and the pair are almost inseparable now, even when I’m not there to encourage the bond.
It’s the perfect balance. Them watching horror movies or playing video games while I switch off my hearing and snuggle in between with a good book. Simple, yet so fulfilling.
A considerable while later, we’re all ready, standing in matching robes with hairstyles fit for royalty.
Addy opted for a braided crown circling her bubblegum-pink head, an excuse not to wear her mortarboard.
She’s become quite rebellious over the past few years, pushing back against her mother’s expectations and even dropping debate club. What a rebel.
Whereas Klara has gone in the opposite direction.
After quitting the cheerleading team and dressing more modestly, she seemed to transform overnight.
Now heading up the student council, Klara acts as the board’s inside eyes and ears, ensuring the academy runs smoothly on both sides.
There’s no luck in finding a new man, like her mother insisted, and I think that’s on purpose.
Klara is finally living her own life on her terms, and we’ve become especially close throughout.
Outside, the campus buzzes with excitement.
Fellow classmates wave as the three of us pass arm in arm, the sun shining brightly overhead.
The central courtyard is beautiful. Floral displays in every shade of orange and yellow spill from doorways of the four surrounding buildings, including the Dean’s offices behind a raised stage.
The fountain mirrors the theme, blooming lilies floating in its tiered basins and releasing a glorious scent into the breezy summer air.
The Waversea flag flies proudly overhead, although there’s no one here by that name anymore.
Rhys and Phillip made the unanimous decision to take Della’s maiden name, scrubbing away the remnants of what Arthur destroyed.
As if conjured by that thought, lingering beside the iron statue of his grandfather, one half of my heart’s desire waits in the robes and cap I never thought I’d see him in.
“Rhys!” I shout, composure forgotten as I race toward him.
He spins with the biggest smile, and I fly straight into his open arms, swept off my feet.
Anyone would think it had been weeks since we’d seen each other instead of hours, but it’s always like this.
The butterflies still churn every time I see him, the excitement of finding my soulmates so early in life sometimes too much to bear.
“Get a room,” Addy mutters, continuing on.
Her relationship with Rhys hasn’t changed much, but they tolerate each other for my sake.
Rhys plants me back on my feet, and I grab onto his thick biceps, marveling at the firmness beneath the satin.
He hits the gym daily with Clay. Not because he felt threatened by Clay’s size, but because an outrageously camp café owner in Paris called him ‘Baguette Legs’ a few summers ago.
Ever since then, a gym-obsessed monster was born.
Honestly? I love that he has a hobby, and I love even more that he can toss me around as if I were feather-light.