Page 65

“It’s okay. I’ll vouch for her.”

Clipboard Guy frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll find Dorian and let him know. In the meantime, put her down as…” Professor Harding eyes me from top to toe before he smiles. “Put her down as Holly Golightly.”

That earns him a frown. “You sure about this, Moriarty?”

Professor Harding nods. “I’m sure.”

The other guy stares at me a moment before he scribbles my codename down. “East or west wing?”

“We’ll head west first.”

Another note is made before the guy heads off and leaves me alone with the man I all but accused of sexual harassment one short semester ago. A man who just saved me from getting turfed out on my ass before I get a chance to deflower myself all over Leo Brummer.

Silence reigns as Professor Harding, or Moriarty as he’s named himself for tonight, stares down at me from his six-foot height. Under the lights in the hallway, his dark brown hair gleams and his slate-grey eyes pierce a little too forcefully into my psyche. I know a few of the girls in my year are a little dreamy over his young Richard Gere looks, but something about him makes me jumpy.

Nervously, I clear my throat. “Umm… thanks for vouching for me.”

“No problem, Holly. Come on,” he says as he steers me left. We pass through a set of double doors made of rose-etched glass, and it occurs to me that for what is supposed to be a party, the place seems a little too quiet. There’s no music pumping from speakers and no voices raised in merry chatter.

If not for the dozens of cars outside, I’d assume I’m at the wrong place. I clear my throat and think of something witty to say. But I’m hopelessly tongue-tied, and my brain chooses that moment to remind me what an utter asshole Professor Harding has been to me this semester. I debate whether to apologize again to clear the air once and for all, but rebellion hardens my spine.

Despite my apology at the end of last semester, he’s chosen to single me out to crap on for weeks now. Fuck if I’ll let him see how much that’s upset me. But hedidvouch for me so I can’t exactly ignore him.

“So… what happens in the west wing?”And will Leo be there?

I’m proud of myself for not asking the second question, and for not coming out with a lame line like—do you come here often?

“This is your first time?”

I can feel his gaze on me as we walk through another set of doors and down a long hallway. How big is this house anyway? And why the hell is it so quiet? “Yes. You?”

He stares at me for a second longer than necessary, then smiles. “No. It’s not my first time.”

We turn a corner and stop in front of a black panel. I start in surprise when it parts to reveal an elevator. Professor Harding enters and extracts a key from his pocket, which he slides into the slot. He spots me hovering outside and raises an eyebrow. “You coming?”

I want to shriek,Hell no, because my freak-out button is definitely glowing hotter than ET’s finger by this time, and I want to say to heck with it and just leave. But leaving will mean returning home to New York still a stupid virgin. Am I going to turn chicken this close to the finish line?

For the first time in my life, I feel guilty for shouting at the TV screen whenever a bimbo actress pulls a stupid stunt like the one I’m contemplating right now. For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to be paralyzed with the sheer impossibility of my quandary. Go back upstairs and somehow convince Clipboard Guy to return my phone so I can call a taxi and hope I can pay the exorbitant fare back to campus, or get in the elevator to fuck knows where, where I might be successful in grabbing Leo’s attention long enough to get him to seduce me away from my virginity?

“Don’t waste my time, Holly.” Professor Harding’s sharp voice pierces my frantic contemplation.

I want to ask why he’s bothering with my fake name when we’re alone and he knows who I am, but I don’t want to bring further brimstone down on my head in the classroom, so I make up my mind, nod briskly, and enter the elevator.

The single button below theclose doorsign plunges us downward.

The moment the doors open, a wall of noise hits me.

Contrary to the speculation by the guys on the quad that there would be only thirty people, I count more than double that, easily. And better still, there isn’t a single drug-fueled orgy in sight. In fact, everyone’s fully dressed and the drinks and food are flowing like at any above-average college party. Not that I’ve been to heaps, but still…

I smile and mentally pat myself on the back. Then jump when a hand grabs my elbow.

“This way.” Professor Harding/Moriarty nods to the left.

We weave through a crush of people at the bar and head to the far side of the room. I keep my eyes peeled for any Leo-shaped bodies, but the sea of people, in what looks like a darkened underground ballroom, is too thick for me to single anyone out.

Dotted around the room on tall stands are wild and varied assortments of drinks. Moriarty stops in front of one and plucks an amber cocktail from the table. I have no way of knowing which drink is which, and I sure as fuck am not going to ask my professor, so I select the least harmful-looking one and take a cautious sip.