With a gasp, I stumbled into the tiny room. A closet, really. The door slammed shut behind me, and a key turned. Only a thin line of light appeared at the bottom of the door.
“Do not scream, Harper. Do not call for help. Do not sob.” Through the small crack, her shadow moved across the door, as though bending close. As though peering inside. “You’ll not make a sound. If you do, your punishment will be twice as long.”
The snapping of her heels against the floor as she walked away rung harshly in my ears. I wanted to scream out, but she’d warned me not to. I didn’t want her to leave me. I didn’t want her to come back. I just wanted to be…gone. I hugged myself tightly, sat down in the corner, and cried as quietly as I could. My breath hurt as it pushed in and out of my lungs, faster and faster, until I became dizzy—
“Hey, darlin’. Are you okay?”
I leapt as the stranger’s voice penetrated my thoughts and dragged me back to the present. I was breathing hard. My chest was pounding. My eyes darted around me. Night had fallen while I’d drowned in my daymare of the past. I collected myself, cleared my throat, smiled, looked at the couple standing there, staring down at me. “Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly. “I’m fine. Allergies. They always get me this time of year.”
The man, probably in his mid-thirties, smiled warmly. “Okay, just checkin’.” He reached for the hand of the woman he was with; pretty, with a long brown ponytail. Together, they jogged off.
I watched them for a while, until they’d nearly made it back around the pond. Before they passed by me, I got up, threw my wrapper and empty bottle in the trashcan, and hurried to my car. Full darkness had fallen, and already I felt the pings of anxiety hitting me. I hardly ever stayed out after dark. Not alone, anyway.
Back at Delta house I parked, locked the car, and just as I walked through the common room, Murphy stopped me. I forcibly pushed the unwanted daymare I’d just experienced out of my mind.
“Guess who has acquired a subject?” she said, her eyes glittering with a frightening sort of mischief.
“Who’d you find?” I asked.
“This is so brill,” Murphy continued, and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Less than a handful of hours after our plan was executed and I’ve not only chosen my prey, but he’s agreed to meet me at MacElvee’s for drinks tomorrow night.”
Curiosity bit at me. “Who?”
That Grinch grin spread over Murphy’s face. The slow one. “Josh Collins.”
My brow quirked in confusion. “He’s dating someone, I thought.”
“Freshly dumped,” Murphy gloated. “Besides. Completely mental, that one. He’s better off.” Her hand darted out before her, like a fish swimming through the water. “I wasted no time, love. Slipped right on in.” She elbowed me in the ribs. “Brilliant, yeah?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Definitely so, since he’s like the go-to guy for the Kappas’ Halloween bash every year. But Murphy—don’t do anything, you know. Degrading.”
Her eyes widened in mock-horror. “Are you off your trolley, Harper?” she grinned. “I wouldn’t dare. So what about you? Have you made a final decision yet?”
“I’m still considering.”
“You should def give it a whirl, love. He’s perfect,” she answered.
I shook my head in disbelief. “See you in the morning, Murphy.”
“Hey, what’s the rush?” She inclined her head toward the sofa, where the gas fireplace was lit. A few other sisters sat on the floor, books opened.
“I’ve a test to study for,” I replied, and glanced toward the staircase. “You know I study better alone.”
Murphy’s gaze held mine for a few moments. “Yeah, love. I know. So, hey,” she continued. “Are you headed home for the holidays? Or do you fancy spending them with me and the fam in a non-traditional British sort of way?” She tapped my nose with her long, delicate finger. “Roast and Yorkshire puddings are screaming for you.”
I offered her a smile. “Thanks, Murphy, I appreciate the offer. But you know, my folks always have this big…thing on the holidays. Huge. I’m expected to be there.” My laugh was light, jubilant. Fake. But only I knew it. “Big Belle celebrations.”
Murphy nodded, but her eyes remained on mine. “Absolutely.” She turned me toward the stairs. “Now chivvy along for your bit of swotting. Wouldn’t want you getting anything less than an A.”
I grinned. Swotting meant to cram or study hard—something she professed never, ever to do. “Thanks. And good job on your Dare subject.” I headed up the steps, and in my room, I closed the door, closed my eyes and breathed. The daymare at the park had drained me. Kane for some reason plagued me. And now Thanksgiving and Christmas loomed. Every year was the same. So many offers to go home and celebrate the holidays. So many invitations to go home with someone. Murphy. Olivia.
So many refusals. I refused them all, every single year.
On the floor rested a handful of envelopes. My mail. Lifting them and setting them onto my bedside table, I shrugged out of my suit and hung it neatly on a hanger. Running the brush through my hair I pulled it into a ponytail and slipped into a freshly dry-cleaned pair of pajamas that smelled like lavender. Across the hall, the bathroom was blessedly empty for once and I went through my nightly face-washing, moisturizing, teeth-brushing routine. Then, I crossed over to my room, closed the door, and climbed into bed. No textbooks. No studying. Not tonight, anyway.