Chapter Fourteen Willa

Chapter Fourteen

Willa

Now: Saturday, 2:00 a.m.

The chill from poorly insulated windows prickles my naked back as I pull away from the warmth of shared sheets.

"You okay?" he asks for at least the eighth time in the last hour.

"Just thirsty," I say as I pull on my bra and underwear. "But thank you." I lean over and give Liam a deep kiss.

This stolen moment is a huge risk. It's a far cry from the privacy we had in Big Bear, but we had to make do. Declan or Wyatt could come in at any moment, discover our illicit tryst. But that's part of the fun, the heady rush of a forbidden love affair, of being with the boy who was never supposed to like me back. To get my happy ending, I became a cheater.

The word writhes beneath my skin, oily and ugly. It grates against my self-image, like a stain on a portrait I can't scrub off. My own Dorian Gray growing more and more decrepit with every hookup, each steady lie. I'd never cheat on a test or a paper, never dare plagiarize or even get an assist from ChatGPT. Academically, I am pristine and perfect.

But Liam's turned me into a new person, a person who dares to take what I want. What I have always wanted but never thought I could have. Someone take-charge and unapologetic, loved and adored. Never anxious or apologetic or awkward.

I like being her, this new person, who I imagine is a lot like Delaney.

I arch into Liam's touch as he settles a warm hand on the small of my back, my smile sly as I shimmy into my dress.

"Hey, Willa." His voice is calm. His deep brown eyes stare into mine as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Be careful leaving."

I jerk away from his touch. "I know." I search for my socks, make a show of it so he can't see how much it hurts. "Delaney's asleep, though. I waited like an hour before I came down here, just in case."

"It's not only Delaney," Liam says quietly.

I imagine the worst. He's embarrassed by my size, embarrassed by me —bro code only extends so far, and his friends just don't like you. But then I remember to be her. To be fine, the good-time girl, the person I need to be to keep this going. To make Liam stay. To make him love me.

"I'll see you in the morning." I play it cool, pecking him casually on the lips before slinking through the door. It must be past two a.m.

I pause on the landing, allowing the quiet and the dark to envelop me. Above me is silence, and below only the occasional snore catches my ear. Someone must have conked out on the couch, drunk. Declan or Wyatt, I assume.

I take a step toward the third-floor stairs, but a high-pitched crunch rips through the stillness of the house. I freeze, listening in wild fear. A moment later comes a sloshing sound, followed by someone shuffling on hardwood.

Then a creak on the stairs.

I sprint, noiselessly as I can, up to the third floor, so whoever it is won't catch me by Liam's door.

Delaney is asleep, Delaney is asleep, I repeat to myself. I touch the stone by my throat in a nervous tic. Even if she does catch me, I am far enough from Liam's room now that I can say I was going to the bathroom. I rehearse the excuse in my head, practicing for a worst-case scenario.

But in the end I don't need to say anything. When I reach ourfloor, there's no light shining through the crack under Delaney's door. I open my own door and slide into the room, closing the door with a final click, blood rushing so loud in my ears it's like the storm follows me under the covers.

I am awake well before I finally tiptoe out of bed in search of coffee. Nervous energy left over from last night surges through me. It's finally a decent enough hour that I can go downstairs.

The open-plan living space is bright despite it being just past sunrise. The blanket of white outside reflects brilliant light everywhere. Declan's still sprawled on the couch, dead to theworld.

In the kitchen I find a can of coffee beans next to an industrial grinder. As I survey the trashed living room, a part of me delights in grinding the beans an extra minute as a wakeup call for Declan and the rest of the house.

I hope Eden was right about our chaperone not remembering anything from last night. I don't want to get in trouble for what Eden did. But if Ms. Silva comes up here and finds Declan in nothing but his boxers, last night's alcoholic detritus all around, it'll be obvious we partied. She'll wonder how she slept through it all.

While the coffee steeps, I clink half-empty booze bottles from the dining room table back into the crate. Mixers return to the fridge.

"Time to get up, Declan," I say, circling the living room space picking up sticky, discarded Solo cups. I locate a recycling bin in a pantry closet and throw down the bottles especially hard. Nothing.

"Declan, seriously." I round the side of the couch, panic licking at my insides. Silva could come up at any moment, and I know what she does with troublemakers. My midyear report will be crucial for getting into Yale.

As I near, I sense that something about Declan is off. He looks…

I creep closer. His lips are blue; his face is puffy. He is unnaturally still.

Oh god, oh GOD. It's happening again. My hand flies to my neck, to the stone.

My curse. I brought this here.

I scream the whole house awake.