TWO

I stepped inside, and there was a greeting line for me. No joke.

Or, well, that was an exaggeration, but Ms. Busich was there, wide smile, her dark hair swept up in a bun. Alongside her were Mr. Goa and two other faculty members and two students. I knew the faculty members because I did my research. One was my advisor, Ms. Wells, and the other was another professor in my studies, Mr. Dvantzi. The students, I didn’t know. I hadn’t researched them, which said how off my game was. Three months ago, I would’ve scoured everything I could find and I would’ve had a hard time not poking around for a list of upcoming first-year graduate students.

“Ms. Franci—”

I stopped Busich with a polite smile. “It’s Hayes. I’m still just Bailey Hayes.”

She paused, her eyebrows pinched together behind her glasses, then her face smoothed back out. Her smile returned. “Of course. Miss Hayes. Welcome.” She gestured to the students. “This is Hoda Mansour and Liam Smith. Both are students in your cohort.”

Hoda’s face was gorgeous. Big, dark eyes, smooth tan complexion, and lips that were so round they were almost an oval shape. Her hair was robust. It was the only word that came to mind, because there was a lot there. It was smooth and hanging just short of her shoulders, but the volume had me salivating. If she’d had a blowout that day, I wanted to know who her stylist was, and I wasn’t that type of girl. Chrissy, yes. My mother would’ve been all over her, exclaiming over her pedicure and cream-colored nails and the earrings that were hanging and sparkling from her ears. But it was the look in Hoda’s eyes that had me snapping to attention.

She wasn’t one to be messed with. I saw that right away. A sharp and almost calculating look was in there. I stared back at her with the same look and her lips pressed together in a flat line.

Okay then.

I would toe the line with her.

Liam was almost the complete opposite. Messy blond hair that was sticking in the air, a permanent wave where you could see he pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it where it lay, and as I studied him, he did just that. An almost goofy smile came to his face. Lines around his eyes and mouth were soft, giving him a sleepy look, too. Blue eyes that were smudged with exhaustion or something chemical, but he had a jock’s body type. Broad shoulders. His polo shirt cut off on his biceps and they were built, so the guy spent time in the gym.

The two together were not what I’d been expecting. Then again, I didn’t fit the IT stereotype either. Looking past them to the hallway, I saw plenty of gangly and awkward-standing guys who did, though, even a girl that dashed past everyone, rushing to our group. Petite. A darker complexion, small lips, and her face was rounder.

I liked her instantly.

“Ah. Yes. This is Melissa Zvanguam.”

“Hello.” She stuck her hand out, her eyes wide and taking me in.

I knew. I just knew. It was instant, but the starstruck look was there.

If I’d been questioning it before, I would’ve kicked myself now. The others were keeping themselves more restrained, or they just didn’t care, but this girl cared.

And I knew what words would come from her next, in a breathy awed tone. “You’re Peter Francis’s daughter.”

I put my hand in hers and she gripped me tight, gushing, “I am a huge huge fan of your father’s, and you’re going to be in my cohort.” A deep breath.

Ms. Busich frowned. “Get ahold of yourself, Miss Zvanguam.”

“Yes.” Melissa nodded automatically, eyes glazed and glued to me, and stepped back. Her hand didn’t disengage from mine, so she was bent forward. “I can’t let go of your hand.”

Hoda coughed, stepping forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her and the movement tore our hands apart.

Liam was stoned. I was pretty sure. His smile never dimmed or changed. He didn’t move at all.

Yep. Stoned. I was certain.

“Ah. Miss Mansour. Why don’t you show Miss Hayes the premises, help her get situated.”

I was situated. I said it, too. “I had a tour last spring, and I’ve studied all the maps and layouts. To be honest, I just really want to get to class and get started.”

Hoda stepped more to the side so she was half next to me, facing Ms. Busich.

“Yes, well…” Busich glanced to the other faculty, which made sense. She was the head of everything. This was a more specific question.

Ms. Wells took her cue and nodded, another formal smile on her face. “Hoda will still show you the more pertinent faculties. Hoda?”

“Yes, Ms. Wells?”

“Bring her to my office after class. Miss Hayes?”

Miss Hayes was so formal. “Bailey. Please.”

“Bailey.” Her smile seemed a touch more genuine. “It’s lovely to meet you. After class, Hoda will show you to my office. We need to go over your program.”

I nodded. I had been expecting that.

A meeting with your advisor was normal. The rest of this was not.

“Sounds great. Thank you.”

Hoda started the tour with a bang. She marched ahead of me, and I had to hurry up, but she was already going.

“We have twelve students in our cohort. Three are half time. Nine are full time. There’s three females. You, myself, and Melissa make up those stats. The rest are guys, and we have two older adults, and when I say older, I’m meaning they’re middle-aged return students.” She passed an open classroom, nodding inside. “Classes on Monday start at nine thirty a.m. Classes on Thursday start at twelve thirty. Each is three hours long. Your advisor will go over the rest of your schedule with you. Here is our personal student lab.”

She went to a door and swept it open. It was a bricked room, no windows, just computers. Lots of computers. The printer was set up in the corner, and next to it was an attendant for the room.

“We do use the school’s library for extra studying, so if we’re not in here, more than likely we’ll be in the library. Most are graduate assistants, GAs, but loitering in the extra offices is frowned upon here. The IT department is stressing a cohesive and connected cohort with this program and so yes, that means we’re guinea pigs. There was more than the average number of student suicides last year. They’ve looked at the most isolated programs and the IT program rated high. So there you go. We’re being force-fed friends, not that you’ll be lacking.”

She paused before moving farther down the hallway. “Everyone knows who you are. And after your meeting with Ms. Wells, they’ll flock to you. Peter Francis is a god to us.” She narrowed her eyes, skimming me up and down. “If you had merited this program on your own, I’m sure you’d understand.”

Oh, snap.

My back straightened.

I felt the heat start first in my belly, and it was rolling up at a fast pace.

“Merited? On my own?” I narrowed my eyes. “You think I got in here because of who my father is?”

She went farther down the hallway, her back to a closed classroom door, and stood facing me. “I don’t think it. I know it. I work in the graduate office and I was there when Peter Francis called Ms. Busich about you last spring. I’m the one who answered the phone.”

That wasn’t—My stomach dropped.

Wait, though.

What did that mean?

I got in on my own. This was bringing up concerns from earlier, worrying if I got those scholarships because of me or because of my relation to Peter. I knew who I was. This girl, she didn’t. She had no clue who I was, which said more about her than me.

“If Peter called about me last spring, it wasn’t to get me a spot. I got early acceptance on my own.”

“Your name wasn’t even in the files until after that call. Daddy got you in. We have a B-average requirement. If you can’t hack it in the program, you’re out.”

Once she stopped insulting me, her eyes went past my shoulders, and this wasn’t the first time since we started the tour.

She stepped close, lowering her head. “You know that guy?”

I turned, seeing Erik bending over at the water fountain.

His backpack was on. The bulge was sticking out on his side, and he was watching us from the corner of his eye.

“He’s been following us this whole time.”

The jig was up.

But she didn’t say anything or wait for me to respond. Her hand went to the door and she was going inside.

I stepped behind her and turned.

Twelve sets of eyes turned my way.