Chapter 27 Twenty seven
Chapter 27 Twenty seven
Zara
The last night of the convention was a celebration night.
The hotel ballroom had been transformed for the closing dinner, all white tablecloths and soft gold lighting. Every table was packed with students and faculty members dressed in their finest, everyone buzzing with a unique energy. The dress code was semiformal, which for me meant a tight black dress that stopped midthigh and heels that made my calves ache, and for Clara meant a red number that turned heads everywhere she walked, and for Mia meant a sequined silver thing that caught the light every time she moved.
We had claimed a table near the back of the room, close to the bar and far enough from the faculty tables that we could talk without worrying about who might hear us. Clara was already on her second glass of wine, and Mia was working on her third, and I was nursing a vodka soda while I scanned the room for familiar faces.
"I cannot believe this is almost over," Clara said, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the chandeliers. "Three days of listening to old men talk about democracy, and all I got was this lousy hangover."
Mia snorted into her wineglass. "You are not hungover. You have had two glasses of wine."
"Two glasses of wine and no lunch. That is basically a hangover."
"You are such a lightweight," I said,I smiling despite myself.
"I am not a lightweight, I get drunk faster so I can save money on alcohol. It is called budgeting, Zara. You should try it sometime."
I laughed and shook my head, and for a few minutes we just sat there talking about the seminars we had actually enjoyed, about the weird guy from Yale who had tried to hit on Clara during the student presentation session, how badly we all needed a real meal that was not catered convention food. It felt normal until I saw him.
Professor Darren Kane was standing near the faculty table on the other side of the ballroom, talking to some older professor I did not recognize. He was wearing a dark suit with no tie, the top button of his shirt undone, his hands were in his pockets he looked so fucking good that I forgot how to breathe for a second.
Mia followed my gaze and let out a low whistle. "Damn. He cleans up nice."
Clara leaned across the table, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Has he looked at you yet? Tonight, I mean. Have you guys made eye contact?"
"No," I said, even though I had been watching for it all night. "We are being careful."
"Careful," Mia repeated, rolling her eyes. "You two have fucked in a faculty lounge, a hotel room, and his office on campus. You do not know the meaning of careful."
"Shut up, Mia. Someone could hear you."
"No one can hear me. The music is too loud, and everyone is drunk, and you are being paranoid."
I was not being paranoid. I was being smart. Because ever since that weird encounter in the hallway with Becca, I had felt like someone was watching me, like there were eyes on my back every time I walked into a room. I had not told Clara and Mia about it yet, I just mentioned it in passing, but it had been eating at me for days.
And then I saw her. Becca Halloway was sitting at a table, alone, her blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her sharp blue eyes fixed directly on me. She was not pretending to look at something else, she was just staring at me with a cold, smile that made my skin crawl.
I looked away fast, my heart hammering, and grabbed Clara's arm under the table.
"Do not look now," I said, keeping my voice low. "But remember that girl I told you about? The one in the hallway who knew my name?"
Clara's eyes widened. "Becca?"
"Yeah. She is sitting at a table near the faculty section, and she has been staring at me for like five minutes straight."
Mia glanced over casually, pretending to look at the dessert table, then turned back with her eyebrows raised. "Okay, that is weird. She is definitely looking at you and she does not look happy."
"What did I tell you?" I said, my voice shaking a little despite myself. "She knows something or she thinks she knows something. I can feel it."
Clara put her hand on mine, squeezing gently. "Hey. Calm down. Even if she suspects something, she does not have proof. You have been careful."
"Have we, though?" I thought about all the times I had walked out of Kane's room, all the times someone could have seen, all the times I had been so lost in him that I forgot to look over my shoulder. "What if she has been watching this whole time? What if she has photos or something?"
Mia shook her head. "You are spiraling, Zara. Take a breath. She is probably just jealous because you are hot and she is not."
"Mia, that is not helpful."
"I am just saying."
I looked across the room again, careful not to make eye contact, and saw that Becca was still watching me. She was not even trying to hide it anymore. She had her chin propped on her hand and her head tilted, and she was smiling this little smile that made me want to walk over there and slap it off her face.
"What is her deal?" Clara asked, following my gaze. "Does she have a thing for Kane too? Is that what this is about?"
"I do not know," I said. "Maybe. Probably. She is a graduate student, so she has access to faculty spaces. She could have seen us together. She could have put the pieces together."
Mia leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Okay, but here is the thing. Even if she knows, what can she actually do? Report you? She would need proof. And even if she had proof, reporting it would ruin her too. She would be the girl who snitched. No one likes a snitch."
"That does not make me feel better."
"It should. "She is probably just some lonely grad student who has been crushing on Kane for years and cannot stand that he picked a twenty-one-year-old over her."
Clara nodded. "Mia is right. Do not let her get in your head."
But it was too late for that. Becca was already in my head, had been there since that first encounter in the hallway, and every time I saw her watching me, the fear got a little bit bigger.
I looked across the room one more time, and this time, Becca was not looking at me. She was looking at Kane and the way she looked at him hungry and desperate made my blood run cold.
She wants him, I thought. She wants him, and she thinks I am in her way.
"Hey." Clara squeezed my arm. "Stop looking at her. You are just torturing yourself."
"I cannot help it. I feel like she is everywhere."
"She is not everywhere, she is just one person and you have us." Clara gestured between herself and Mia. "Two whole people who have your back no matter what. So stop being scared of some blonde grad student with a resting bitch face and finish your drink."
Mia raised her glass. "To Zara. Who is hotter than Becca and always will be."
Clara raised hers. "To Zara. Who is getting laid tonight while Becca is probably going home alone to watch Netflix and cry."
I laughed and raised my glass to clink against theirs. "You bitches are ridiculous."
"And yet you love us."
"I do. Unfortunately."
We drank, and the music played, and the night went on around us, I tried to focus on my friends and their stupid jokes and the warmth of the vodka in my stomach. But every few minutes, my eyes drifted across the room, and every time I looked, Becca was still there, still watching, still smiling that cold little smile.
She did not approach me or say a word. She just watched and somehow, that was worse.
Later that night, after Clara and Mia had gone up to the room and the ballroom had started to empty out, I found myself standing near the bar with my phone in my hand, staring at a text from Darren.
Darren: My room midnight?
I typed back: Sure.
Then I looked up, and Becca was standing at the other end of the bar, watching me.
She raised her glass in a slow disturbing motion and smiled.
I turned and walked away without looking back.
But I felt her eyes on me the whole way out.