Chapter 2

My chest burned.

I didn't have to guess. Preston had bought that trending hashtag. He wanted Lena walking out of that basement in broad daylight, and he used the whole internet to force my hand.

I forced out one word. "Fine."

Lena's face lit up. Her eyes flicked to Preston. Fast. Smug.

I pretended I didn't see it.

That night, the mattress shifted next to me.

"Just a couple emails," Preston murmured.

I kept my eyes shut. Waited for his footsteps to fade. Then I got up and followed him to the study.

The door was cracked open.

Lena's voice slipped through. Low. Laughing.

"Knew you'd come find me. Your body doesn't lie, baby."

"Shut up."

"You always tell me to shut up. But you never stop, do you?"

I stood there, fists shaking.

Back in the bedroom, I grabbed the stuffed bear from my pillow. Preston gave it to me three years ago. "Hug it when you have nightmares," he said.

I buried my face in it. Something inside my chest tore, and I knew it wasn't going to stitch back together.

That weekend, Preston's students came over for dinner.

Wine flowing, somebody brought up the engagement party.

"Honestly, Mrs. Grant marrying the Professor? Girl won the lottery. He was way out of her league."

My chopsticks froze mid-air.

Another one chimed in, "Yeah, Lena was extra that night, but I mean… she wasn't totally wrong."

They laughed.

I looked at Preston.

Old Preston would've slammed his glass down and thrown them out the door.

New Preston leaned back in his chair, tipsy, and waved his hand. "All right, all right. Enough."

Soft. Weightless.

"Preston," I said. "You're just gonna sit there and let them talk about me like that?"

He frowned. Annoyed. "They're drunk. They're kids. You really gonna pick a fight with a bunch of grad students?"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Lena floated over with a glass of wine.

"Mrs. Grant, let me apologize. I was such a bitch to you. Please, let me make it up."

She bent down. Her wrist "slipped."

Red wine hit my white blouse like a punch.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!"

The wine ran down my chest. The fabric went see-through, every line of my bra showing.

The guys started snickering. Elbowing each other.

Lena's mouth curled into a smug smile.

I stood up and slapped her across the face.

Crack.

The whole room went dead silent.

Preston shot up. "Claire! What the hell?"

He caught himself. Cleared his throat. Softened it. "You shouldn't hit people. No matter what, you don't put hands on someone."

I stared at him.

"I'm drunk too," I said.

Lena covered her cheek. Tears slid down. She whimpered, "I know she's angry with me… I don't blame her…"

Everyone crowded around her. Nobody looked at me.

I walked upstairs.

Voices trailed behind me.

"Lena, don't cry, sweetie. She was totally out of line."

"Get some ice, her face is swelling."

"Claire really is a bad-luck charm. Look at her, ruining everybody's night."

I shut the bedroom door.

That slap? I put my whole body into it. My palm was still buzzing.

Another sleepless night. My head pounded till sunrise.

At dawn, I walked out to grab some Advil.

The second I stepped past the gates, a black SUV screeched to a stop beside me.

A hand slammed over my eyes.

Someone dragged me into the backseat.

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