Chapter 7
seven
A therapist would tell me that I need more sleep. Typing furiously on a tablet, a physician would prescribe me a pill. My mom would brush the hair from my forehead and ask if I was getting enough sunshine. Dad would ask who he needed to kill to make me rest.
It’s nobody’s fault but mine.
Snapping awake, I rush through my Monday morning routine. Hopefully, none of the girls stop me, or else I’ll be late for class. With a toothbrush in my mouth, hopping on one foot to pull on a fresh pair of underwear, trying to save my soul, I push out the memories of what happened yesterday.
The acrid odor of him. A flap of his chin. Cracks in the corners of his mouth. The shudder down my spine, listening to his words…
I hurl the toothpaste from my mouth, then spend time doing my makeup and skincare. It’s important. Despite the hurry, I am Olivia Cardell. President of Omega.
It was always expected of me, part of the path I chose to chase the dreams they sold me. Become the president of a top-tier sorority. Win the right internships. Gain acceptance into grad school. Rise like a phoenix into politics.
No one warned me about how many favors I’d owe. How much of my soul I’d have to sacrifice to get what I thought I wanted. Maybe that’s why I like it. The pressure and power. The pain.
It drowns out the memories. Gives me something to control. Something to polish until it shines.
Because if I stay busy, focus my energy on being perfect, I don’t have to remember who I really am. It’s enough to keep the shame from forming ashes in my mouth.
As I move around to get dressed, something feels off. A weird texture…like the fabric has already been worn. There’s a scratchy spot near the elastic on my panties that I swear wasn’t there before. I shift. It clings. The itch arises, crawling toward a place I don’t want to think about.
I glance down at the pile of laundry I shoved into my drawer last night. I’d washed it, right? Right? A chill whispers across my skin.
Don’t be ridiculous.
No time to change now…
With one last glance in the mirror, I note that I look like a girl who’s been through hell and still has to strut into class like my mascara isn’t hiding a murder. From my eyes rises a different smile, like that of one who knows.
As soon as I fling open my door, snagging my Valentino bag, I halt. Sora stands in front of me, tapping a fingernail on her bicep, her arms crossed. “You didn’t find me at four yesterday.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Sora. After class, I swear. I’m already late—”
“Olivia!” Hailey’s bright blond hair flashes as she runs up the marble staircase to meet us, as I push past some girls with a hurried good morning. “I wanted to tell you that Josh finally asked me out! You were right. He was just worried about that mole on his face!”
I have no recollection of a conversation about a Josh, but I nod appreciatively. “I wish you and Josh all the happiness in the world!”
“Olivia, are you free for an interview for the newspaper on—” Anaya catches me just before I can get out the door, Sora still hot on my heels.
“At the end of the week, Anaya! Text me a time you want to sit down and, of course, I’ll help you!”
The heels click on the marble before I hear the sharp sound. Which is saying something, because Sora’s voice could probably carry across the lake with no microphone. She caught up to me.
“Olivia! I swear to Caliphylla, if you ghost another golf outing with the Junior League, I’m going to make a fake video of your attendance with AI. You promised. And don’t even try to hide in the music hall again. I’ll check.”
I pause in my step. “You memorized my entire schedule again, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and I color-coded your sins by weekday. And now that I have your attention…” She shifts her body in front of me before I can make it to the foyer, tablet in hand, eyes sharp as scalpels. “Okay…”
“I’m kind of busy right now. Can we talk—” I sidestep and continue down the steps, but she joins at my hip.
“Busy? Your schedule has a kill count, Miss President. And no, don’t argue… I have receipts.”
At the mention of my kill count, I halt and glance at her. A stone settles in the pit of my stomach. She only arches an eyebrow and taps on her screen with a tight-lipped mouth.
“Let’s see. You’ve got: a media interview with Northview Gazette, and I know they’re second tier, but we can win tickets to the Tayla Silk concert if you do it.
Also, I’m pulling your potential dresses for Terror Tuesday, and the seamstress will need your updated measurements.
Don’t forget tutoring at your mother’s foundation at six tonight.
Oh, and the Omega group photo is this weekend, and we’re all getting facials beforehand.
Not the cum kind. And then the Omega Smile Workshop with the Alumni Beauty Board is coming up…
” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I was told your left incisor is a smidge too rebellious on Zoom calls.”
I blink at her, mouth slightly open. Guess I’ll pencil that insult into my trauma journal.
She narrows her eyes. “And don’t give me that face. You’re the president of ONE, Olivia. The head bitch. That means you wave, you stand up straight, and you can’t complain about your schedule.”
Maintaining charm, I finally squeak by our secretary and dash out to the front parking lot, strolling hard toward campus.
Smile like a pageant queen.
Pray like a sinner.
Lie like a bitch who’s got bodies to bury.
Several admins, professors, and students greet me on my way to Page Hall.
It’s a gorgeous autumn morning, and I’m glad I don’t need a jacket.
Or maybe I’m still too hot from trying to contain all the secrets.
If someone poked me, would I explode? No.
I’ve survived on silence for years now. The taste is comforting in a way.
Does it matter that all I want is something just for me? Something pointless and fun.
But the only thing I can even think of doing…is nothing at all.
With a deep sigh and perfect posture, I enter the class and find my seat next to Nick Veldt, a Theta junior in finance.
“Sup, babe?” His dimpled grin greets me, but he’s already glancing back at his laptop screen, where his trading page is ticking off red.
“Fucking hell. Monday opening markets are not great today, but I’m not about that broke mindset.
” He tosses his cut arm on the back of my chair, and I scoot forward, then back to shove it off politely.
He doesn’t pick up on the motion, only moves his hand so he can scroll on his phone to fire blaze hearts on his Pixtagram feeds. Mainly, overly popular rich influencers. When I squirm in my seat to get comfortable, my underwear bunches wrong. I don’t want to think about it now.
“Is Omega raging this weekend? If so, I’m totally down. What you got going on, girlie?” Biting his lower lip, he shakes his protein blender bottle and sips a large gulp while I hesitate to answer.
The slightest brush on my arm pulls my attention. My belly somersaults as I take in the handsome face of Elliot. Oh, shit— I forgot he was in here. All the stresses of the morning vanish when he nods toward the empty seat next to me.
“Mind if I take this one?”
Instead of my typical masked fake smile, my genuine grin forms greedily. God, he’s sunlight in a forest full of shadows. “Please do!” Silently, I beg him to save me from the bro in the next chair.
Nick’s jaw unhinges as he takes in the newcomer. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” Elliot acknowledges him briefly, but he slumps down in his seat and whispers to me, “Any tips on drying out a Rolex without ruining it? I got my hands on one yesterday. Not that I’d ever ruin something expensive…except when he deserves it.”
My giggle is uncontainable, even as my cheeks light up pink and the professor walks in. Elliot’s hand brushes against mine as a warning that we’re both laughing too loud, so we take synchronized breaths and focus straight ahead.
Despite the momentary distraction, an image of the masked man enters my mind. The heat of him hovering over me. The threat of the blade held toward my throat. The void where his face should be. As the smile drops from my face, a shiver runs through my body.
Professor Navarro begins her lecture as we settle in for the next forty-five minutes.
Even though my laptop glows in front of me, I’m very aware of the man next to me.
His scent isn’t like most of the fraternity boys I know.
It’s subtle. Every third inhale, it wafts through my nose, causing my skin to erupt with goosebumps.
How would I describe it? Earthy? Sunshine just before summer arises? A rolling knoll on a spring afternoon?
Different. Elliot is different.
And when his hand stretches before typing something, my belly flip-flops at the sight.
Why am I so attracted to hands? Okay, not every man’s hands.
But strong ones. And these are definitely good-looking knuckles.
Clean nails. Skin that looks as if he forgot to moisturize, and there’s something interesting about that.
I wonder what they would feel like on my—
“So we’ll need to form teams of threes for the project.”
I glance around, heat flaring across my cheeks, and realize I’ve missed most of the lecture.
Everyone in the auditorium groans at the mention of a group project. Nick is already turning toward me to ask if I want to partner up.
“We’re in this, right, babe?”
Elliot’s green eyes shine as he stares at Nick for a moment before pursing his lips as if he’s afraid to speak.
“Want to join us?” I ask before he can.
Elliot’s shoulders relax as the corners of his lips turn up. “Yeah. Thanks.”
There’s a shift in the room—chairs scrape, bags rustle, voices lift.
“Are we all okay to head to the library to figure out a game plan?” I ask, already dreading being the only one who’ll actually do the work.
“Of course, babe! You coming too, scholarship?”