Fall For You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #1]

by Cecelia Gray

  She heard the front door open as she was finishing up a note, followed by gasps and hushed conversation sweeping through the room.

  She looked up. There was just a girl awkwardly standing there. Young—definitely a freshman—with dark blond hair and ice-blue eyes. There was something familiar about her eyes. Where had she seen eyes like that before?

  Then, behind her, in walked Dante, her first interview, with Edward in tow.

  Standing next to Edward, with his wide, eager grin, made Dante even less approachable than he already was with his lips compressed in a grim line. Maybe everyone had gasped because of how annoying it was to have him around.

  No…that couldn’t be it. As much as she found it hard to tear her eyes away from Dante and her line of judgmental thoughts, Lizzie’s curiosity about what was riling up her staff won out.

  Lizzie looked back at the front door. Josh Wickham leaned against the open doorway.

  He looked just like he did on television. Lanky, jet-black hair streaked with chunks of blonde, blue eyes, and flirty lips.

  That’s what everyone was quivering about. Who everyone was quivering over.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be impressed by the teen acting sensation when he was obviously a recruitment coup for Bergie.

  “Are you here for the features interviews?” she asked coolly. “Dante, Josh, and—?”

  The door opened again—and in walked that incredibly hot guy who could be a model, hotter even than Josh, if Lizzie was going to be honest. His shoulder knocked into Josh as she brushed by him.

  Anne’s pen flew out of her hand.

  Lizzie ducked, barely avoiding a smack in the cheek.

  “Sorry,” Anne mumbled.

  Lizzie glanced down at the profiles from the manila envelope. “You are…?”

  “Rick,” Anne said in a strangled voice.

  “Rick,” Lizzie echoed. “Rick Wright. You’re all here for the features interviews.”

  “If that’s what you want to do with us,” Josh said with a quirk of his lips.

  Lizzie ignored him.

  Dante only nodded. Of course he couldn’t dignify her with an actual response. Instead, he pushed forward the girl with the same ice-blue eyes as his own.

  Lizzie had almost forgotten about her. She’d have to make an effort to focus on these girls. They were who mattered, after all.

  “Hello,” the girl stuttered.

  “Can I help you?” Lizzie asked with a touch of sympathy. She remembered her first day at the Academy and this girl looked just as overwhelmed.

  “I was hoping…I hadn’t requested this elective, but I was hoping you would let me in?”

  “Name?” Lizzie asked.

  “I’m Dante’s sister,” she said.

  “I hope that’s not on your school ID,” Lizzie said, hoping some gentle teasing would lighten her nerves.

  The girl blushed. “No—it’s Georgiana.”

  “Great to meet you, Georgiana. I’m Lizzie. Welcome to Jasta.”

  “Jasta?”

  “The Jane Austen Academy—that’s we call it on the inside.” Lizzie gave her a wink. “So, why do you want to be a journalist?”

  Dante cleared his throat. “Isn’t this an open elective?”

  Lizzie reared back like she’d been slapped. “Well, yeah.”

  “Then she doesn’t really need your approval to join, does she?”

  Lizzie bristled, rising in her seat. If she’d had even a shred of hope that she had misjudged Dante earlier, it had now left the building. She ignored him and looked straight into Georgiana’s eyes. “I’m short one reporter on the new-student features. I don’t want you to interview your brother—journalistic integrity, you understand—so why don’t you take Josh? Once I see your writing, we’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Georgiana blushed even more and stammered, “All right.”

  Lizzie didn’t miss the disappointed grumbling from some of the staff, as if they could have also landed a Wickham interview by waltzing in late.

  “In the back, there,” Lizzie pointed, directing Josh and Georgiana to the other end of the room.

  “Let’s see,” Lizzie said, “that leaves—”

  “I’ll take Dante,” Anne said quickly.

  “Yes, please,” Dante and Rick echoed.

  Lizzie looked disbelievingly among the lot of them. The class was split between watching Josh make his way to the back of the room and watching her authority being usurped. “I make the assignment decisions around here. Anne—you take Rick into the other corner.”

  As Anne got up, Lizzie patted her stool. “Dante, you’re with me.”

  * * *

  Dante walked up to the stool, but instead of sitting, he used his foot to push it backward and out of the way. He then leaned against the desk on his left hip, coolly crossed his arms, and stared at her.

  Lizzie swallowed. He was closer to her this way than if he’d been sitting. Taller, too. Looming over her, even. As though he were the one in charge—which he wasn’t. She looked up into his eyes, noting a darker rim of blue outlining the lighter irises, and swallowed again as a chill breezed down her spine.

  It would look silly if she stood up so he wouldn’t feel so tall, and besides, she would have to stand on the stool to be taller than he was, anyway. It seemed he had gained the upper hand—for now.

  Lizzie used her finger to inch his bio closer and fished a recorder from her pocket. She set it on the counter and pressed Record.

  Dante’s eyes shifted to the small, palm-shaped device, and Lizzie saw something there—not annoyance, not judgment, but for a moment, perhaps nervousness.

  He was nervous beneath that icy exterior?

  Good.

  “Dante—” His eyes snapped up to meet her gaze, so fast and unexpected she lost her train of thought entirely. “Dante,” she repeated firmly, “Why did you leave Exeter to attend the Jane Austen Academy?” She intended to use the name Jane Austen Academy at least a dozen times in the printed interview.

  Dante hesitated—and while she believed it was because of his snobbish nature, the reporter’s instincts in her clawed their way up.

  Was he hesitating because he was hiding something?

  “The academic record of this institution speaks for itself, and I’m proud to be part of the first wave of male students.”

  Lizzie pursed her lips—the answer sounded like something out of a media kit. Not real at all.

  “What do you miss most about Exeter?”

  “The anonymity.”

  Lizzie straightened in her seat and studied him. She could have sworn there was a sparkle to his eyes, a slight lift to his lips. Was he being funny?

  “What do you plan on accomplishing while you’re at the Jane Austen Academy?”

  “Asking for drama.”

  Lizzie blinked—then recognized the line from her own pre-term editorial. Dante was quoting her own words back to her. Was she supposed to be flattered? Was he mocking her? Did he hope to fluster her? Well, she was not going to be deterred from the assignment. “What are your plans after graduation?”

  “Georgetown.”

  “Georgetown?” Lizzie bit out. “That’s—” Where I’m going.

  Georgetown? Georgetown! Her school. And it was well known that Georgetown only offered one annual acceptance to a Jasta student, except for 1982 when a set of genius triplets had all made it in.

  Georgetown!

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Georgetown then? Decided? Any backup schools?”

  He gave her a strange look that said Dante of Exeter and now the Jane Austen Academy did not need a backup school.

  “Is that it?” Dante asked.

  “No,” Lizzie bit off. This was the very reason she’d protested doubling the student admission. This—Dante—Georgetown! Her hop, skip, and a jump to being a White House press reporter.

  “One more question,” she said. “Since your attendance at this schoo
l was precipitated by the new owners, would it be fair to say that another change in ownership might see you returning to Exeter?”

  Dante’s mouth snapped shut and a flash of irritation crossed his features.

  Lizzie smiled to herself. Just as she suspected. He didn’t care about the Academy or being part of its legacy.

  “Lizzie!”

  Lizzie turned to the back of the room—it was Dante’s sister Georgiana calling her. But before she could say anything, Dante had taken off in a flash and was by his sister’s side.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, dipping his head.

  Georgiana held out her digital recorder in the palm of her hand. Several shards of black plastic had broken off it.

  “Sorry.” Josh ran his hand through his hair and gave a sheepish smile. “I think I broke it.”

  “There’s a spare in the drawer behind you,” Lizzie said.

  Josh reached into the drawer and set the recorder in Georgiana’s hand. Lizzie could have sworn that as he pulled his hand away, Josh traced his finger over Georgiana’s wrist and palm.

  Georgiana flinched.

  Lizzie opened her mouth to protest—she would not have one of her reporters harassed—but before she could speak, Dante leapt up and grabbed Georgiana’s hand.

  “This interview is over,” he said, dragging Georgiana away despite her pleas and protests.

  Rick stood abruptly to follow, leaving a shaken Anne tapping her pen against a notepad.

  * * *

  “That could have gone better,” Lizzie called to Anne, who pushed in Rick’s chair and her own and walked back to the front of the class. “Back to work—above-the-fold doesn’t write itself,” she said to the students who had been distracted by the melee. Their heads snapped back to their monitors.

  Anne handed Lizzie her recorder with Rick’s interview. Lizzie pressed Play to listen to what she soon understood to be the most mortifying series of stilted questions and answers about Rick and his class schedule.

  “Do you have any experience doing interviews?” Lizzie asked.

  Anne nodded, plucking an imaginary piece of lint off her sleeve. “You’ll recall I used to chair all the student applicant interviews.”

  “Then what explains this disaster?” Lizzie pressed the recorder closer to her ear to continue listening—like that would make the interview any better. Once he’d finished describing his sixth-period syllabus, the conversation died away so that all she could hear were the noises in the classroom—clacking keyboards, squeaking chairs.

  Rick’s voice cut through the silence, “Are you well, Anne?” Followed by Anne’s ragged intake of breath and, “Yes.”

  “And your family?”

  “Quite well, thank you.”

  Followed by silence, then finally, Rick saying, “You look well, too. Still.”

  Lizzie pushed the recorder directly to her ear, not believing what she was hearing, but then all she heard was the recording of Georgiana calling her name. The recording switched off.

  “You know him,” Lizzie said accusingly. “You already know Rick.”

  Anne nodded, but her face was completely closed off—there was a story there, Lizzie knew it. “You knew him a lot,” she pressed.

  Anne looked past her, out the window, but nodded again. Lizzie looked down to Rick’s bio, studying it more carefully this time. “His family is from Merrywood. You attended the same middle school.” Lizzie glanced up at Anne, who hadn’t looked at her since staring out the window.

  For once, instead of blurting out her question, Lizzie bit it back. Anne’s eyes had misted.

  Could Rick and Anne have been an item? Had he dumped her? Cheated on her? A guy who looked like Rick had no end of options—still, he’d gone on to the Naval Academy, which implied strength of character. What had happened between them?

  “You’ll have to do the interview again,” Lizzie said.

  That comment did bring Anne’s eyes back to hers. “Could you interview him instead? The dance is so soon, and we both know journalism is your passion, not mine.”

  “What is your passion?” Lizzie asked suddenly. For the amount of time Lizzie had spent thinking about Anne—about how unfair her nepotism had been, about how oblivious she seemed to the struggles of the other students—she knew very little about her.

  “I don’t know,” Anne said with a helpless shrug.

  Lizzie felt a tug of sympathy. Anne’s school, her home, had been sold out from underneath her, her gorgeous ex-boyfriend was wandering the halls and would no doubt be dating the hottest girl in school—although Lizzie secretly felt that was still Anne—by the end of the week, and Anne had no idea what she wanted out of life. Lizzie, at least, knew what she wanted. She wanted Georgetown. She wanted the White House.

  “Do you at least know what you want for dinner?” Lizzie said with a smile.

  Anne grinned.

  Lizzie remembered she was supposed to meet Ellie later—but she could eat a quick meal with Anne, just a little nibble, and then her real dinner with Ellie before they went to their tree.

  * * *

  The dining-hall door under the We Will Be Heard motto was just swinging open as Anne and Lizzie walked up the pebble path. Lizzie glanced at Anne, who finally seemed to be breathing normally. The sun was setting, casting colorful beams through all the stained glass windows and doors of the Academy. Lizzie felt it again—that sense of ease. That sense that she was home.

  “Left or right?” Anne asked as they filtered into the cafeteria.

  “Left or right what?” Lizzie asked.

  “Bed. We haven’t really talked about it.”

  Lizzie laughed—how weird that they were going to be roommates. She wouldn’t have imagined it earlier this morning. It was as if her whole life had changed in a single day. “You know, I’m used to the left side, but maybe it’s time for something new.”

  “Yeah, maybe we should roll both beds onto the left side and push the desks to the other.”

  “We should!” Lizzie agreed, laughing. She’d never seen this side of Anne before. She kind of liked it.

  They each pulled a tray off the pile and stood in the buffet line. Lizzie could smell roasted chicken, bubbling marinara sauce, and the yeasty smell of freshly baked bread.

  “How was your interview with Dante, by the way?” Anne asked.

  Lizzie snorted and grabbed a plate to fill up on salad.

  “Not good?”

  “Dante is just so…so ugh,” Lizzie said, stabbing a few tomato slices to add to her salad. “Did you see how he treated his sister? He wouldn’t even let her talk for herself. And the way she answered when I asked her who she was? That she was his sister? He’s clearly so overbearing.”

  “I think he’s just overprotective.” Anne grabbed a chicken leg with a sigh. “Remember when we used to actually have good food?”

  “Yeah,” Lizzie said. “At least the salad is the same.”

  They turned around to head for the bench seats when Lizzie stopped in her tracks. There at the end of the line, Emma and Ellie were standing side by side, laughing.

  Ellie looked up, saw her and froze. She looked over to Emma then walked over quickly to her.

  “Hey,” Ellie said. “Sorry—I was kind of hungry.”

  “Oh.”

  “You, too, apparently,” Ellie said, a little accusingly.

  Lizzie glanced down at her salad. “Yeah, just a little. But I was still going to eat a real dinner later.”

  “I was thinking I might have to study later,” Ellie said. “They were finally able to add an advanced calc class, but the reading is really heavy.”

  “Maybe later, then,” Lizzie said.

  “Yeah, later,” Ellie said.

  Ellie ran back to Emma and Lizzie turned to find Anne waiting for her. They took their seats, but she wasn’t hungry at all.

  Neither of them had mentioned the tree.

  Chapter Five

  “Quick, now!” Lizzie sucked in a breath.


  Ellie yanked the fabric of the muslin Empire-waist dress at its shoulders to try to force the pearl button into its hole, but failed. “One more time?”

  Lizzie let out a grunt of frustration. “Safety-pin me.”

  “No need,” Emma said, breezing in through the door to Ellie’s room looking like a beautiful Greek goddess.

  “How did you do that?” Lizzie stared in wonder at Emma’s hair. Twenty minutes ago when she’d left, Emma had sported her usual chic blond bob cut. Now she could play Rapunzel with those artfully layered long curls.

  “Extensions. Now lie on the bed.”

  Lizzie flopped onto her back.

  “How am I supposed to reach the buttons like that?” Emma twirled her finger. “Flip over.”

  “Are you sure there wasn’t a larger size dress available?” Lizzie wouldn’t put it past Emma to make her look bad—here she was trying to get into Ellie’s good graces by being friendly and helpful with the dance. Emma had been down the hall styling hair and doling out accessory advice.

  “Not one that would match with our dresses. Besides, you are this size,” Emma insisted. “Your body just doesn’t realize it yet.”

  Lizzie grumbled as she flipped onto her stomach. Emma dug her knee into the small of her back. “Oomph!” Then in one quick movie, Lizzie heard the zipper sing up and felt the material hug snugly around her ribcage. She flipped onto her back and stood carefully. Before she could fasten the pearl button, Emma had leaned in and was doing it for her.

  “Gorgeous,” Emma said. “Isn’t she, Ellie?”

  “You look amazing,” Ellie agreed.

  “We all do.” Emma reached for her camera on her desk. “Come on, group picture.”

  “Thanks…both of you.” Lizzie had to admit they all did look very ladylike in their matching white dresses—each with a distinctive trim or lacing on the sleeve. Emma pulled them all together, and as nice as she was being, Lizzie still inserted herself between Ellie and Emma as they posed, waiting for the camera’s timer.

  After the flash, Emma picked up her camera to check the photo. “Postworthy,” she said. “I’ll email it to you so you can use it in the Gazette.”