puts in. "She's definitely discovering herself. She's not going to be some super-confident vixen right away."
"But she sounds like she's headed that direction," Marcus, who's nice but never smiles, says. He shifts in his chair next to Luna, who's gazing down at her own papers. "She's already cool with calling him sir and being whacked."
"That's hot," Tommy says.
"I don't know," Marcus counters, training his eyes on me. "It kind of sounds weird."
I swallow, not sure how to answer that.
"It's a brave story." Chase could not be more calm and analytical as he offers his critique. "Keep pushing yourself. You have a character with real relatability and flaws, and if there's anything I can't stand, personally, it's a too-perfect character."
"Isn't Bryce Bowker kind of perfect?" I ask.
"He's got some ego going," Chase replies, not missing a beat. "I think you could say that's a flaw. Your character you've got going, there, now she's almost Bryce's opposite. That takes guts to write and talent to write convincingly."
She's definitely flawed. Chase is right about that.
I hurry through the quad after class, wishing summer could last a little bit longer. Only tourists carry umbrellas, which is true of pretty much the entire Pacific Northwest, but in weather like this, I always secretly wish I could cheat and bust one out.
I fumble through my purse for my keycard, and of course it's at the very bottom. Keys, wallet, compact, mints. I finally unearth the keycard-- Drummond Residence Hall, with a goofy picture of me smiling. I look at the sweet virgin in the picture for a second. She has no idea. Letting myself into my building, I take a last look outside at the nonstop drizzle. A figure clad in black is standing on the cobblestone walkway at the path to my dorm door.
My heart seizes.
Luna.
I can't see her eyes from here, but her face remains on me for several seconds before she looks away and continues on the walkway, past Drummond Hall, towards... wherever it is she's going.
C HASE
I finish killing Bryce Bowker a week after Luna catches Addison and me at Drake’s.
I’ve spent the past seven days writing, finishing the book, finishing the series, killing him off.
As soon as I type the end, I pick up the phone and call Addison.
“Hello?” she says when she answers.
My heart clenches at her voice. I haven’t called her for a week, ever since that day at Drake’s. I told myself it was because I was protecting her, that I needed to take some distance, that I needed to work on my book. But now that I hear her voice, now that I remember the way she was looking at me that day in the restaurant, I wonder if I was mostly protecting myself.
“Come over,” I say immediately.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t be smart, Addison. My house. Fifteen minutes.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You can’t just call me up and demand me to come over.”
“I wasn’t demanding. I was asking.”
“It sounded like a demand.”
“I miss you,” I say softly.
“Then why haven’t you called?”
“I’m stupid.”
No answer.
“I was working on my book. I finished it.”
“You did?” she asks, her voice softening.
“If you come over, I’ll tell you what happens.”
She hesitates, and suddenly fears strikes my heart, fear that I might not be able to see her, fear that she really might say no.
“Addison,” I say. “Please?”
“Fine.” She sighs. “Give me half an hour.”
She gets there forty-five minutes later, and the blood rushes to my cock as soon as I open the door for her. She’s wearing the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen. A black miniskirt with a tiny slit up the side and a tight white tank top with no bra.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
"Luna is being super weird,” she says, pushing past me and into the house.
"Oh?" Who the fuck cares about Luna when Addison is dressed like that? I haven't even noticed Luna giving Addison so much as a second look in my class. I haven't made them start critiquing each
"But she sounds like she's headed that direction," Marcus, who's nice but never smiles, says. He shifts in his chair next to Luna, who's gazing down at her own papers. "She's already cool with calling him sir and being whacked."
"That's hot," Tommy says.
"I don't know," Marcus counters, training his eyes on me. "It kind of sounds weird."
I swallow, not sure how to answer that.
"It's a brave story." Chase could not be more calm and analytical as he offers his critique. "Keep pushing yourself. You have a character with real relatability and flaws, and if there's anything I can't stand, personally, it's a too-perfect character."
"Isn't Bryce Bowker kind of perfect?" I ask.
"He's got some ego going," Chase replies, not missing a beat. "I think you could say that's a flaw. Your character you've got going, there, now she's almost Bryce's opposite. That takes guts to write and talent to write convincingly."
She's definitely flawed. Chase is right about that.
I hurry through the quad after class, wishing summer could last a little bit longer. Only tourists carry umbrellas, which is true of pretty much the entire Pacific Northwest, but in weather like this, I always secretly wish I could cheat and bust one out.
I fumble through my purse for my keycard, and of course it's at the very bottom. Keys, wallet, compact, mints. I finally unearth the keycard-- Drummond Residence Hall, with a goofy picture of me smiling. I look at the sweet virgin in the picture for a second. She has no idea. Letting myself into my building, I take a last look outside at the nonstop drizzle. A figure clad in black is standing on the cobblestone walkway at the path to my dorm door.
My heart seizes.
Luna.
I can't see her eyes from here, but her face remains on me for several seconds before she looks away and continues on the walkway, past Drummond Hall, towards... wherever it is she's going.
C HASE
I finish killing Bryce Bowker a week after Luna catches Addison and me at Drake’s.
I’ve spent the past seven days writing, finishing the book, finishing the series, killing him off.
As soon as I type the end, I pick up the phone and call Addison.
“Hello?” she says when she answers.
My heart clenches at her voice. I haven’t called her for a week, ever since that day at Drake’s. I told myself it was because I was protecting her, that I needed to take some distance, that I needed to work on my book. But now that I hear her voice, now that I remember the way she was looking at me that day in the restaurant, I wonder if I was mostly protecting myself.
“Come over,” I say immediately.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t be smart, Addison. My house. Fifteen minutes.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You can’t just call me up and demand me to come over.”
“I wasn’t demanding. I was asking.”
“It sounded like a demand.”
“I miss you,” I say softly.
“Then why haven’t you called?”
“I’m stupid.”
No answer.
“I was working on my book. I finished it.”
“You did?” she asks, her voice softening.
“If you come over, I’ll tell you what happens.”
She hesitates, and suddenly fears strikes my heart, fear that I might not be able to see her, fear that she really might say no.
“Addison,” I say. “Please?”
“Fine.” She sighs. “Give me half an hour.”
She gets there forty-five minutes later, and the blood rushes to my cock as soon as I open the door for her. She’s wearing the sexiest outfit I’ve ever seen. A black miniskirt with a tiny slit up the side and a tight white tank top with no bra.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
"Luna is being super weird,” she says, pushing past me and into the house.
"Oh?" Who the fuck cares about Luna when Addison is dressed like that? I haven't even noticed Luna giving Addison so much as a second look in my class. I haven't made them start critiquing each
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