SCARLETT POV
I'm deleting Tyler from my phone when Maya kicks down the bathroom door.
Not knocks. Kicks. The lock breaks with a crack that should probably worry me, but I'm too busy watching two years of photos disappear. Delete. Delete. Delete. Tyler's arm around me at homecoming. Tyler kissing my cheek at Christmas. Tyler looking at his phone while I smiled at the camera like an idiot who didn't know her boyfriend was texting another girl.
"Scarlett Hayes, if you're dead in there, I'm going to kill you myself," Maya announces.
I look up from where I'm sitting on the cold tile floor. "Door's open now."
Maya stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking like an avenging angel in ripped jeans and a leather jacket. Her dark hair is pulled back, showing off the nose ring that the dean hates and Maya refuses to remove. Everything about Maya screams "I don't care what you think," and I've always been jealous of that.
"Jennifer just moved her stuff out," Maya says. "Didn't even apologize. Just grabbed her things and left. I may have told her if I ever see her again, I'm posting her nudes from spring break all over campus."
"She sent you those in confidence—"
"She slept with your boyfriend for six months. Confidence expired." Maya crouches down next to me. "How bad?"
"Bad." My voice cracks. "Maya, he said I'm vanilla. Too boring for him. Not exciting enough to actually love."
Maya's face goes murderous. "I'm going to cut off his—"
"He never loved me." The words taste like poison. "Two years, and he never even loved me. I was just... convenient. Safe. The good girlfriend he kept around while he had fun with someone else."
Maya pulls me into a hug that smells like cigarettes and the coconut shampoo she steals from my shower. "He's a waste of oxygen. You know that, right? This isn't about you. It's about him being a cheating piece of—"
"I did everything right." I pull back, wiping my eyes. "I was perfect for him. I learned about his stupid stocks and his stupid golf and I pretended to like his stupid friends who call me 'cute' like I'm a puppy. I had sex in the positions he wanted even though I never finished once—"
"Wait, not once?" Maya's eyes go wide. "In two years?"
My face burns. "He said I was too tense. That I needed to relax more."
"Oh, honey." Maya looks at me like I'm a wounded animal. "The bar is literally in hell. We're going out tonight."
"I can't. I have a paper due—"
"The paper can wait. You need to remember you're a person, not a perfect girlfriend robot." She stands up, pulling me with her. "We're going to O'Malley's, you're going to have exactly three drinks—enough to feel good, not enough to do something stupid—and you're going to remember that Scarlett Hayes existed before Tyler and will exist after Tyler."
I let her pull me up, but my legs feel shaky. "I don't know how to do this. The whole 'going out' thing. Tyler always said bars were trashy—"
"Tyler can choke." Maya steers me toward my closet. "That's the Scared Scarlett talking. I need Angry Scarlett. Where's the girl who told Professor Chen his grading system was statistically biased? Where's the girl who corrected the dean's Latin in front of the entire honors assembly?"
"That girl has a scholarship to protect."
"That girl is more than her scholarship." Maya starts pulling clothes out. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to put on something that makes you feel powerful. We're going to the Grandmont Hotel bar because O'Malley's is full of broke college boys, and you deserve better scenery. You're going to have a drink, maybe dance, and remember that you're twenty-two years old and your life didn't end tonight. It just got better without deadweight."
The Grandmont Hotel bar. The words trigger something in my memory. I grab my phone from the bathroom counter, and there it is—that weird text from the unknown number.
"I saw what happened. Tyler's a fool. You deserve better. Meet me at the Grandmont Hotel bar tonight. 9 PM. Come alone. I promise you'll want to forget everything. —A Friend"
My stomach flips. "Maya, look at this."
She reads it, and her face goes serious. "Okay, that's either really romantic or really serial-killer. When did you get this?"
"After I left Tyler's. I didn't see it until now." I check the time. 8:47 PM. "Who would send this? Who even knew what happened?"
"His apartment has big windows," Maya says slowly. "Anyone could have seen. Could be a concerned neighbor? Or..." She grins. "Could be a hot stranger who wants to sweep you off your feet."
"Or a stalker."
"Only one way to find out." Maya pulls out a red dress from the back of my closet—the one Mom sent for my birthday that I never wore because Tyler said red was "too attention-seeking." "Put this on. We're going to that bar. But I'm coming with you, and I'm bringing pepper spray."
Twenty minutes later, I'm staring at myself in the mirror. The red dress fits perfectly. My hair is down and messy instead of in its usual neat ponytail. Maya did my makeup—dark eyes, red lips, nothing like the natural look Tyler preferred.
I look like someone else. Someone dangerous.
"There she is," Maya whispers. "There's the real Scarlett."
My phone buzzes. Another text from the unknown number: "I'm here. Corner booth. Look for the gray tie. Don't be afraid."
My heart pounds. "This is crazy. I don't even know who this person is."
"Life is crazy." Maya grabs her jacket. "Let's go be crazy together."
The Grandmont Hotel is only fifteen minutes away. My hands shake the entire drive. Maya parks and turns to me.
"Last chance to bail," she says.
I think about Perfect Scarlett, who would never meet a stranger at a bar. Who would go home and study and pretend her heart wasn't shattered. Who would eventually forgive Tyler because good girls forgive.
"I'm not bailing," I say.
The hotel lobby is full of business travelers and rich people. The bar is in the back, all dim lighting and expensive bottles. Maya spots it first—a man sitting alone in the corner booth, wearing a gray tie.
But his back is to us. We can't see his face.
"That's him," I whisper.
"Okay, new plan. I'm going to sit at the main bar where I can see you. If he's a creep, signal me and I'll come get you. If he's hot, signal me and I'll leave. Deal?"
"Deal."
Maya squeezes my hand and heads to the bar. I take a deep breath and start walking toward the corner booth. My heels click on the floor. Several men look up as I pass, and for the first time in forever, I don't feel the need to make myself smaller.
The man in the gray tie hasn't turned around yet. He's looking at his phone, his shoulders broad under an expensive suit jacket.
I'm three steps away when he turns.
My entire world stops.
Because it's not a stranger at all.
It's Professor Adrian Cross.
My Art History professor. The one who started teaching this semester. The one who looks at paintings like they're alive. The one who's supposed to be at least thirty-five, maybe forty, and absolutely, completely off-limits.
He stands up when he sees me, and his eyes go wide with the same shock I'm feeling.
"You," he says.
"You sent the text?" My voice comes out breathless.
"I—" He looks confused. "No. I'm meeting someone. A student who needed advice—" His eyes drop to my phone, still clutched in my hand. "What text?"
I show him. His face goes pale as he reads it.
"I didn't send this," he says quietly. "But someone wanted both of us here. Tonight. Together."
We stare at each other as the truth sinks in. Someone set this up. Someone arranged for me and my professor to meet at this bar, at this exact moment.
"This is a trap," I whisper.
The lights in the bar flicker once. Twice.
Then go completely dark.
In the darkness, I hear Adrian's voice close to my ear: "Don't move. Something's wrong."
Someone screams. Glass shatters.
And I realize this night is about to get much, much worse.