2
The talk was winding down, time for
questions.
Some girl raised her hand. “Mr. Huntington, is it true you have a fiancé, and you even have
her name tattooed on you?”
Gossip is a universal sport. The energy
perked right up.
“That’s not really relevant to today’s topic…”
The woman speaking was Wendy Silverton,
sitting next to Hunter, and apparently his
right–hand woman.
Rumor had it, they were childhood friends and
their families go way back.
“It’s true,” Hunter said, stepping right over
Wendy. “The tattoo is on my wrist.”
He pulled up his sleeve, showing off one
letter.
“S.”
L
The crowd went wild.
Wendy Silverton was right there. Who else
could the “S” be for?
Wendy herself blushed and looked down, like
she was admitting it.
Good for them.
A match made in heaven.
I didn’t feel a thing. I just wanted to get back
to the dorm and write my paper.
As I walked past backstage, the student body
president stopped me.
“Sierra, you’re a lifesaver. Can you grab a
jacket for our guests? I can’t feel my legs.”
“Huh?”
“My period is killing me, I can’t stand. I need
you to do this for me.
وو
The president looked pale, clutching her
stomach. I had no reason to say no.
She’d helped me out with my financial aid application. I couldn’t refuse her.
But the guests were-
The talk was over.
Hunter Huntington was walking toward the backstage area, those long legs eating up the
space.
I wanted to hide, but it was too late.
He turned his head and saw me.
