by Jenna Scott
We take the elevator down to the ground floor together. When she hugs me goodbye in the lobby, I feel like my insides are shattering. But I force myself to hug her back.
Chapter Thirty
Camilla
After the book awards have been given out to much polite applause, we’re all moved into an adjacent ballroom for a cocktail hour. Time to mingle. Trays of champagne are making their way around the room, but of course I head straight to the open bar and get a cranberry juice. Everywhere I turn, I see the literary elite rubbing elbows in their fancy evening attire. It’s such a different world from what I know—all glamour and intellect. I overhear nothing but talk of books and authors, gossip about editors and publishing houses, and advances big and small. It’s heaven.
Juice in hand, I mostly stay within Professor Laurens’ orbit, not wanting to venture too far into the sea of unknown faces. Luke takes the opposite approach, diving straight into the fray to see if he can make some of those industry contacts he was hoping for. I wonder how his elevator pitch about his Great American Novel is going. Who knows? Maybe his pomposity will play well with this crowd.
“Professor Laurens!”
The professor and I look over and see two women bustling toward us.
“Miriam—wonderful to see you,” Laurens says, accepting a hug from the taller one with the halo of curly hair. “This is my TA, Camilla Hanson.”
“Hi, Camilla!” the woman says, bursting with energy as she extends her hand. “I’m Miriam Contreras, an editor at Heartsong Press. This is my assistant and soon-to-be associate editor Deena Lam.”
“It’s so good to meet you,” I say, recognizing the name of the publisher immediately. “I loved Resting Beach Face. It was my favorite summer read.”
Miriam throws her head back laughing. “See, Dee? Everyone loves a good beach read.” She turns conspiratorially to me and Professor Laurens. “When I acquired that book, I got so much flak for getting into a bidding war over it, since we had to go a little over budget in our offer and some of the higher-ups thought it was too fluffy. Including Deena, here. She said it’d never earn back its advance. But it did.”
“I was wrong,” Deena says with a shrug. “I can admit that.”
“Oh, I love me some good fluff,” I say. “Not that I don’t read other stuff, just sometimes you want a feel-good read.”
“Exactly,” Miriam agrees. “Dee, why don’t you tell her about the new YA you’re about to make an offer on while I catch up with my favorite college professor?”
With that, she pulls Laurens away by the elbow and leaves me with her assistant, who has a bright purple streak in her hair and doesn’t look that much older than me. I compliment her hair right away, and I can tell by the subtle mockingjay pin she’s wearing that she’s a Hunger Games fan. Suddenly, my social anxiety disappears.
“Are you having fun?” she asks. “These things can be super boring.”
“It’s actually been pretty amazing so far,” I say. “I’m just soaking it all in.”
Our conversation quickly shifts to the young adult novel Miriam mentioned. Once Deena gets going on it, she lights up until she’s almost as animated as her boss. As she describes the plot and the characters, my mind kicks into high gear and I start asking questions. Soon enough we’re gushing about all our favorite young adult authors.
“How did you get into publishing, just out of curiosity?” I ask. “Did you always plan it that way, or—”
“Oh, no. I majored in Art History. I thought I was going to be a teacher or maybe go back to school for art restoration. But then I saw a job at Heartsong and applied on a whim. I didn’t think I’d even get an interview, and well, here I am. It was a total fluke.”
We chat some more, and at some point, Deena gives me her card.
“If you ever end up applying for a job with us, shoot me an email and I’ll put in a good word with HR.”
I look down at the card like it’s made of solid gold. “Thank you.”
Just then, Laurens and Miriam come back over. They both have fresh drinks in hand, and Laurens gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder. It feels like a dad pat, the same kind I’ve seen between Emmett and his dad, or Isabel and hers. He doesn’t even linger for longer than necessary. Hunter’s totally reading this man wrong.
“Sorry that took so long, the line at the cash bar was egregious,” he says.
“Hope you two had fun getting to know each other,” Miriam chirps. “Speaking of which, I’m gonna make the rounds. Dee, you’re free to join.”
The two of them wander off, and Laurens beams at me. I’m still holding Deena’s business card.
“Looks like you made an impression.”
“That was incredible,” I say. “I never thought about working in publishing before. Deena said to let her know if I apply for anything at their company.”
We’re happily chatting away when I feel the prickling sensation of being watched. I look over my shoulder, assuming I’m imagining things, but standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed is the last person I expected to show up here.
Hunter.
At first, I’m just surprised to see him—especially so out of context. What is he doing here? Is it possible he drove all this way just to apologize? And then my mood darkens. The only reason I can think of for him coming to LA is to rain on my parade. Just look at that scowl on his face.
Still, he’s here, and it’s obviously for me. I politely excuse myself and tell the professor I’ll be right back, forcing a smile as I walk toward Hunter. When I reach him, I plant a kiss on his cheek to establish the level of PDA that I’m comfortable with in this setting. “Hunter. I can’t believe you’re here. I’m glad you showed up.”
He pulls me close, resting his forehead against mine. Regardless of why he came, I can tell he’s relieved to see me.
Once he lets me go, there’s an uneasy smile on his face, and his shoulders sag.
“Are you okay?” I ask. I can’t tell if he was just worried about me being at this event with my teacher, or if something else is legitimately wrong.
“I’m fine,” he says.
It’s definitely a lie. I know that tone, that face. But this isn’t the time or place to try pulling a therapy session with him.
“Why don’t you go up to my room and hang out?” I say gently, digging my keycard out of my bag and handing it to him. “Eight-oh-two-three. You can rent a movie or get room service if you want. I’ll be up soon.”
“Come up with me now,” he says.
“I can’t yet. I have to make my last rounds. It’ll just be a few more minutes.”
“Fine,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll stay with you then.”
I frown. I was hoping he’d cooperate and not make a scene. “You’ll be bored. Things are basically winding down at this point anyway.”
It’s not that I don’t appreciate him being here, but I have a feeling he’s going to pull some shit if he stays. I know he doesn’t like Luke, and he really doesn’t like Professor Laurens. The last thing I need is for my boyfriend to embarrass me at a major event like this.
But I’m not going to say that, so… “Okay, let’s both get out of here then. Can you wait for me right here? I just need two minutes to say goodbye. I was in the middle of a conversation with—”
“Let me guess, your professor?” he says.
A few people turn to look at us, and my cheeks start to burn.
“Hunter, please don’t do this. I need you to be chill.”
“Chill?” He grabs my upper arms. “How am I supposed to be chill when that creep has probably been planning to do something shady this whole semester? It’s so obvious that he’s into you. Why else do you think he picked a psych major as a TA?”
I shove him off me—or rather, I try to, but it’s like trying to move a wall of muscle. “Stop.”
“Stop?” He doesn’t. “Don’t you want to get his attention? I assume that’s why you’re dressed like that.”
/> Okay. People are definitely staring now.
“Excuse me? Are you for real?” I’ve never been simultaneously so furious and so embarrassed. “It’s a cocktail party, you fucking dimwit. So yeah, I’m wearing a nice dress, and I put on makeup. It doesn’t mean I’m out here scouting for dick.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me.”
Shaking my head, I have to laugh. Otherwise, I’ll scream.
“You have to leave,” I tell him, enunciating every harsh syllable. Everyone’s looking at us, and some are whispering behind their hands. I want to crawl in a hole and die. “I seriously can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“Do what to you? Drive six hours just to see you? To protect you? To point out how unsafe it is for you, since you can’t seem to figure it out for yourself?”
My eyes are filling with tears, but I try to blink them back.
“You said you trusted me,” I whisper.
“I do trust you!” Hunter yells. “I just don’t trust this situation. The danger you’ve put yourself in.”
I just lost any last shred of patience I had for his jealous caveman act. “What danger? The one where I actually have success in college?”
“No, Camilla, the one where another teacher tries to groom you.”
My jaw drops, along with my stomach. Although the fury inside me is hot, something ice cold slips down my spine. “You know what? We’re done. Get your hands off me and get the fuck out of here.”
The tone of my voice and the fact that I rarely curse at him seem to stun him into letting me go. He backs up a few paces and then turns and storms out the door. I’m too embarrassed to face the ballroom full of people behind me, so I wait a few seconds and then head out into the hallway myself. Not to chase after Hunter, but to find a bathroom.
Luckily, this hotel is so fancy that the women’s restroom has an entire separate lounge area complete with a vanity, so I sink into a chair and let my tears fall. The embarrassment over what just happened is so strong I could die, and I think I just broke up with Hunter. I can’t stop trembling. I grab a handful of tissues and press them to my eyes, as if that’s going to hide me from the world for a while.
By the time I’ve calmed down and composed myself (and cleaned up my mascara mess), it’s well past the end of the cocktail party. At least that means there won’t be anyone to witness my shame as I head back up to my room.
But when I reach the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby, I find Professor Laurens and Luke waiting for me.
“Hey,” I say, knowing I must look a mess.
“Camilla, are you all right?” Professor Laurens asks. He must have seen everything. I bet the entire ballroom did.
“I’m so sorry you had to witness that,” I tell them, my voice still shaking a bit.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Laurens says. “We were just worried.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. It sounds feeble even to my ears.
“Very good,” Laurens says graciously. “We’ll just make sure you get back to your room okay, then.”
Luke adds, “Just to be sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you both,” I say. “That’d be great.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Camilla
Once we step off the elevator on our floor, Luke puts his palm against my back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. I’m still shaking a little, so I appreciate the gesture.
“I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” he says kindly. “I mean, I’ve seen the guy hanging around after class waiting for you, so I figured he was the jealous boyfriend type, but the way he acted just now was…”
“Completely over the line?” I supply.
Luke nods. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“You know what the dumbest part is? He thought Laurens was hitting on me. He’s had a thing against the professor this whole semester. God, it was mortifying.” I sigh, my feet aching in my heels. “I’m just going to hide out in my room for the rest of the night. Maybe order up some ice cream from room service to cry into.”
“Me too,” Luke says. “Well, maybe not the crying part.”
That gets a smile out of me. “If you say so. But there’s no shame in crying into your ice cream, Luke.”
“Ha ha. I’ll keep it in mind.” He smiles at me, and I suddenly feel like a jerk for thinking of him as a snob all this time. Sure, his taste in books might be a little pompous—and maybe his novel-writing stuff is pretentious—but underneath it all, he’s a pretty decent guy.
“Anyway, thanks for listening,” I say as we reach our rooms.
“Sure. And Camilla, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but…” Luke shrugs apologetically. “Your boyfriend is a complete ass. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“Thanks.”
I start digging around in my purse for my keycard, and Luke keeps talking.
“I can’t believe he thought the professor was into you,” he scoffs.
“I know, right?” Finally, I am vindicated. “And even if he was into me, which is ridiculous, it’s not like I’d ever go for him anyway. Dammit, I can’t find my—”
“Lost your key?” Luke says.
That’s when I remember giving it to Hunter. Meaning it’s probably miles away from here by now, and there’s no way I’m calling him to ask for it back. Oh well.
“I better go back to the check-in desk for another one,” I say. “You don’t have to escort me, I’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t you just come in my room and go through the adjoining door?” he suggests. “Unless you locked it.”
“Ah, I did not. So that’ll work. Thanks a lot.”
He laughs and keys his door open. It’s dark when we step inside, so Luke flips on the lights and then gestures around the room. “Here we are.”
“Yep,” I say, going to the adjoining door. I pull it open and then look over my shoulder at Luke. “See you in the morning.”
Before I can open the second door that leads into my own room, Luke comes up behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Camilla, wait.”
I turn around. “What’s up?”
“You just—you don’t seem okay. Do you want to stay and talk a little bit? Or I could stay with you in your room. You might feel better.”
His words are all the right ones, and maybe talking about it would help. But I’m just not sure I want to share all my personal business with Luke, a guy I barely know.
I force a smile to my face, hoping he’ll back off. “It’s really fine. Seriously. Nothing I’m not used to.”
“Nothing you’re not used to? Jesus, do you hear yourself? How long has this been going on? Don’t try to minimize it. This is serious stuff,” Luke says, using his grip on my shoulder to steer me back toward the bed. “Just sit. I’ll get you some water.”
“Um. Okay.” I sink down onto the edge of the bed, arms crossed over my chest.
Maybe Luke is right. Maybe I’m trying to brush this whole thing off when it’s not something to just forgive and forget. Hunter’s behavior was unacceptable, I can agree with that. Do I need to process it more? Am I in danger from him? Maybe my relationship is abusive. Hunter’s definitely always had a jealous streak, and then there’s the overprotective thing, and yeah he can be controlling and possessive at times…
Luke rattles around in the minifridge across the room and comes back with a bottle of water. I crack it open and take a long drink, feeling the ice cold all the way down to my belly.
“Thanks.”
“Sure. I just hate seeing you like this,” Luke says soothingly, settling onto the bed next to me. “I don’t think you should be by yourself right now. You’re in a fragile state.”
He’s too close for comfort, his thigh pressed to mine, our shoulders touching. And now he’s reaching to put his arm around me, his hand stroking up and down my bicep. My whole body instantly goes on high alert. What the fuck.
Standing up to get away from him, I say, �
��Look, I don’t need a babysitter. Really. You don’t have to worry. Have a good night, Luke.”
I head over to the adjoining door again, but Luke gets in front of me and blocks the door. “Come on, Milla. Be real,” he says.
Trying not to panic, I keep talking, trying to come up with a way to get him away from the door without resorting to physical contact. “Be real about what?”
He gives me a patronizing look. “You’ve been checking me out all semester. And you clung to me the whole way down the hall.” He comes closer, dropping his voice lower. “It’s obvious this thing with your boyfriend isn’t what you want. Let me guess: he’s your first, isn’t he? Have you ever even been with anyone else?”
For a second, I’m just shocked. And then a flame of anger flickers to life inside me. Seconds ago, I was worried I’d offend him. Now, I no longer care.
“Checking someone out doesn’t mean I want to sleep with them, and I thought you were being a gentleman when you offered me your arm. As for my relationship, it’s none of your business. Now let me pass.”
Luke tilts his head in thought. “How do you know what you really like if you’re too scared to try something new?”
My hesitation costs me, because the next thing I know, he’s pushing me back toward the bed and his lips are on mine.
I keep my mouth closed and struggle against his grip, but fall back onto the bed with his body covering mine. “What are you doing?” I choke out.
“Proving to you that you’re not stuck with that asshole.”
He tries to kiss me again, and I keep turning my head away, but it has no effect on him. My wrists are pinned over my head now, and his wet lips are trailing down my neck, his free hand sliding under the hem of my dress. He’s stronger than I ever would have imagined.
“Stop, Luke,” I grunt, but it comes out like a whimper.