Page 23 of Terror Tuesday

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 toCaliphylla, 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 havereceipts.”

At the mention of mykill 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 withNorthview 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 yourpotential 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 theOmegagroup photo is this weekend, and we’re all getting facials beforehand. Not the cum kind. And then theOmegaSmile 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 ofONE, 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 andfun.

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, aThetajunior 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 notgreat 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 buncheswrong. I don’t want to think about it now.

“IsOmegaraging 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’deverruin 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. Thethreat 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 veryawareof 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 isdifferent.