Cross the Line (Stratton University #2)

Chapter 1 NORA

NORA

I’M NOT A GOOD LIAR.

A lot of people naturally are, though … Patrick Bateman, Joe Goldberg. They can make you believe almost anything. They can charm you, excite you, make you feel as if you’re part of something. Make you believe the best in them. That their intentions are pure.

Why I thought I could lie in this instance is beyond me. I couldn’t have picked a worse situation or group of people to have lied to. My mouth moved, the words came out, and my brain was left in some sort of lag.

I don’t want to be a liar. In fact, I despise that trait in someone else, but when it comes to my judgemental family and suffocating anxiety, it’s easier to lie. Facing the truth – admitting it out loud – can be difficult sometimes.

The conversation around the table halts.

The weight of several piercing gazes falls upon me and I stiffen in my seat, feeling my neck heat up.

Hazel eyes blink back at me. The longer I stare back at everyone, the creepier they get.

They all possess a stiffness in their shoulders that never seems to ease.

A tightness in the corners of their mouths that makes them always look unimpressed by whatever I have just done or said.

The slight tilt of their heads as they assess me, sizing me up, trying to find my weak spots.

Maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but that’s how it feels.

My father has become just like them.

The two sides of my family are very different.

There’s my mother’s side: warm, kind, loving.

A little out there at times, but that’s what I love about them.

The kind of people who would give you the shirt off their back.

Then, there’s the other side: my dad’s a doctor; my stepmum, Michelle, is a lawyer; my two stepsiblings are a surgeon and a professor.

I’m certainly the odd one out when it comes to what I wanted for a career.

While I might share the same dark brunette hair and blue eyes as my dad, that’s where the similarities end.

His new family are all tall, with long blonde hair and the kind of stick-thin bodies that someone like me could only dream about.

I honestly couldn’t be more opposite – something they love to remind me of every chance they get.

Having a partner, building a financially sound career and owning your home is an absolute must for them.

Anyone who does not tick those boxes is simply inadequate.

The fact that I’m about three sizes bigger than each of them seems to be another drama.

I mean, I feel ultimately pretty normal among other people, but when I’m around my family, they make me feel as if I’m the size of a house.

‘What did you say?’ Lindsay, the professor, asks.

‘I—’ I stammer, my eyes darting around at the curious faces staring back at me.

‘You’re bringing a plus one?’ she prompts, brows inching up her forehead, as if she hadn’t frequently stressed that I should be putting more effort into finding someone to bring along. I still don’t understand why having a partner is the be-all and end-all to life. ‘To the wedding?’

‘Yup,’ I reply, my voice coming out a little too high as I nod, reaching for my water.

My stepmum glances at my father, and I don’t miss their exchange of surprise.

The thought of me bringing a date to a family function shouldn’t be this big a deal, but the fact that I am single and don’t ever go on dates is just unacceptable in their eyes.

Sometimes I wonder if they think my being solo somehow reflects poorly on the family.

As if it is an embarrassment, or something.

‘I didn’t realise you were seeing someone,’ Michelle says, looking at her daughter this time, as if I can’t read between the lines. ‘This must be new?’

‘It is.’

‘Fantastic!’ my father says. It’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking or feeling, since his expression remains the same.

His thick eyebrows are usually bent towards each other, like he’s scrutinising every detail about the thing before him.

It’s unnerving when the thing that he’s scrutinising is me.

‘Look forward to meeting him. Comes from a good family, yes? What does he do for work?’

‘How did you meet him?’ Kyle interjects in the same plain, unemotional voice he uses in the operating theatre.

My mouth feels paper-dry as I lower my gaze to my plate, avoiding their looks. I haven’t got any answers prepared or thought through the consequences of what I just said, but there’s no going back now.

‘What does he do?’ Michelle queries when I fail to reply quickly enough.

Stabbing my fork into the broccoli in front of me, I shove it into my mouth to buy myself some time to gather my thoughts, since no one’s wasting any time hurling questions at me.

My stomach twists. I wish I had the strength to decline the offer of these family dinners because they cause me nothing but anxiety, but when it comes to family, I feel powerless to stand up for myself.

When I’m alone, it’s easy to think that next time will be different and I’ll fight back, but then I’m here in front of them, pinned beneath their gazes, feeling smaller than I’ve ever felt in my life.

It was wishful thinking to hope that the conversation might move along to something else. Reluctantly, I swallow the food and answer.

‘He’s at university. Like me.’

‘What’s he studying?’ Kyle asks, leaning onto his forearms and staring at me expectantly, as if I should have my imaginary boyfriend’s portfolio hidden in my handbag, ready to pull out for them to examine.

‘Do you have a photo?’ Lindsay asks.

‘How did you meet? In class?’ Michelle questions at the same time.

I’m finding it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, a loud ringing echoes through the house and everyone looks towards the front door. Dad purses his lips, shaking his head in irritation, as if someone just cut in front of him on the highway.

‘Who would be coming by unannounced at this time of the night?’ he growls, pushing back the chair so forcefully it scrapes against the floor loudly. He marches towards the door and Michelle follows him, leaving me and my stepsiblings at the table.

Thankfully, their attention has been turned to whoever is here, and I let my shoulders sag in relief.

I glance over at the door as it opens, see one of their neighbours standing there and overhear something about a lost dog.

Using this as my chance to make a hasty exit, I mutter something about early classes and they hardly spare me a glance as I slip past them through the door and practically sprint to my car.

I collapse into the driver’s seat, feeling fatigued.

Every encounter I have with them – no matter how big or small – seems to leave me drained, like I need a good night’s sleep to recover after.

I’m sure a lot of people have it worse than me, and I need to remind myself of this.

There’s loud laughter echoing down the stairway as I mount the stairs to my off-campus dorm.

I smile up at the group coming towards me but they walk straight past, leaving behind a cloud and the potent scent of weed.

Sighing, I head for my door and swipe my card.

If it wasn’t for Anya approaching me on one of my first days here, I honestly don’t know if I would have any friends.

Everyone here already has their own cliques and won’t welcome anyone new into the group.

Thank goodness for Anya and Cami, truly.

The apartment is cosy, with five of us all sharing one bathroom and one kitchen. My preference was for just one roommate, but there were no apartments of that size available by the time I sent in my application.

Emily and Steph have formed a partnership, and I’m half-convinced they’ve bonded over their dislike of me.

They either stick their noses up at me and make passive aggressive comments or pretend I don’t exist – there’s no in-between.

The other roommate, Riley, mostly keeps to herself.

I never know whether she is here or out, because she’s as quiet as a mouse and stays in her room whenever she’s home.

I get along best with Riley, though. I feel like she is a kindred spirit among the chaos.

We’ve been able to spend a bit of time together, which has made the house feel a little less lonely.

There was Cami, of course, my one and only source of peace in this place, but she moved out abruptly – I didn’t want to pry but I think money was tight – so now we’re waiting for our next roommate to turn up.

I scan the piles of shoes kicked to the side, then the dirty plates and glasses piled on the kitchen bench.

The pile is growing, since it hasn’t been dealt with for three days.

There won’t be any clean plates left at this point.

I try my best to ignore it, but I always end up the one cleaning up, even though I try my hardest not to eat any of my meals here.

Staying out of everyone’s way is the best coping mechanism I’ve found.

I really miss Cami. Of course, Emily and Steph shower Cami with compliments and attention whenever they see her.

She’s pretty, popular and a cheerleader.

Of course they want her as a friend. Riley is helpful when she is here, and we have exchanged a few eye rolls whenever the others say or do something that sounds absolutely ridiculous, but I don’t feel like we have advanced to hanging out yet, although I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

The sound of music drifts from behind one of the closed doors, and I hear some girls giggling.

Emily and Steph, I’m assuming, and whoever else they’ve invited over.

They’re probably doing something that involves high-end outfits and bottles of alcohol.

Quite a few times already, I’ve come home to strangers hanging out in the small lounge room and empty bottles spread throughout it.

Stepping into my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning onto it for a moment.

This place isn’t exactly ideal, but it was the best option I had at the time.

It’s close to the Stratton University campus, meaning I can walk to and from classes, and I like that the university hosts social gatherings often.

Not that I’ve had the chance to go to many yet, but I’m hoping to do so now that I have Anya and Cami to go with.

With Anya’s painting classes outside of school time and Cami’s work and dance schedule, it can be hard for us to lock in a time when we are all free, but we seem to make it work.

Kicking off my shoes, I throw my hair into a messy knot on the top of my head. I peel off my clothes and replace them with something more comfortable. Swiping my laptop from my desk, I fall back onto my bed, folding my legs in front of me.

Settling into my pillows, I pull up my latest draft.

Writing is my escape. I love to get lost in the world of fiction, travelling to an alternate reality where anything can happen.

I have been writing for a long time. I started when I was a young girl and would scribble words onto any spare piece of paper that I found.

My writing went from lyrics, to poems, to short stories, eventually developing into full-length novels.

Now I’m a bestselling author, and no one knows a thing about it.

I wrote a book and posted it online completely anonymously to get feedback from people since I was too afraid to ask anyone in my real life to read it. It seemed easier to ask someone who has no idea who I am and knows nothing about my life.

The next thing I knew, reader numbers were climbing.

Messages flooded my inbox, and comments piled up in my notifications from people demanding the next instalment.

Then, agents came into it, and publishing deals.

Now my book is a worldwide sensation. I mean, my two best friends know, but most people in my life don’t.

It’s surreal to see my work in people’s hands around campus, online, and in stores.

I’m most well-known for my series Halos and Heathens.

It’s a spicy, dark, supernatural romance fantasy series.

What started out as a random daydream has somehow turned into a book that has midnight release parties, publicists shooting through emails and a new offer around the corner each week.

I had to hire an online personal assistant just to keep up with the messages and admin.

The fact that I have a whole publishing team – marketing, publicity, sales, a personal assistant – and an international fanbase is honestly crazy. I feel like it happened over night.

My family often gives me a hard time about my Creative Writing degree.

I’m majoring in creative writing and editing, which they view as a ‘useless degree that will lead to an unreliable job and not provide me financial security in the future’ – direct quote.

A small smile twitches at the corner of my mouth.

Little do they know, I have enough in my account to buy myself a house and still be comfortable.

I’ve also just sold the rights for the movie adaptation, and they already have two A-list celebrities in talks for the roles.

Sometimes I pinch myself because it doesn’t seem real.

I’ve never had a lot of money. I worked from a young age and was responsible for my own finances early on. In fact, most things were often a struggle growing up. It’s kind of crazy how much has changed, and how quickly.

Closing the manuscript, I go into my emails and open up the last one from my editor.

I stare at it, gnawing my lip. I’m working on a new series at the moment.

This one is a bit more mature and different from my previous work – more dark, forbidden romance than fantasy.

The feedback from the team was super positive, except for one thing: the sex scenes.

Apparently, they’re not quite up to scratch, even though that’s what I’m known for in my other series.

I garnered inspiration from books and movies I’d read and filled in the rest with my own imagination.

Somehow, I made it work, but my lack of expertise seems to be showing now.

They want more passion, more description, a bit more fire.

It’s a little hard to bring the heat when I’m having none of that myself …

in fact, I’ve unfortunately only had one sexual encounter to use as any sort of inspiration, and it was one of the most awkward events of my life.

One I’d rather not revisit. This is not something I care to admit to anyone, let alone a team of people.

Groaning, I close my laptop and lean back into my pillows.

The time has come.

Looks like I’m about to delve into the world of online dating …