Knowing You (Cursed 2)

Ashton and I are huddled together at the door, mesmerized by their conversation.

"I know. I got it. I won't let anything happen to your girl."

Grant's eyes connect with mine in concern. I smile to make his worry go away. "We're good." He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tutoring session," he reminds me.

"Study room A," I say. "I'll be there."

"I love you guys," Ashton announces, hugging everyone within arms range.

"Let's go, love," Brendan says, taking her hand, and because I'm still within her embrace, I stumble after her. I look behind me from beneath her arm in search of Grant. I want to say I love you too. But I'm not sure who will hear me.

"Walk in straight lines," Brendan directs as we cross the parking lot and onto the gravel driveway.

"There aren't any lines," Ashton says, looking at the ground. I look too.

"Nope, no lines."

"Then just follow me," he says patiently. So we do.

He checks us in with the security guard at the main entrance, and we walk through the foyer of the administration building. Brendan leaves us at the doors to the girls' dorm. "I'll be right up."

"Where's he going?" I ask Ashton. She shrugs. So we go inside and climb the stairs. As we reach the third floor, I let out a short scream. A woman is standing on the landing with her arms crossed, glaring at us.

"Ms. See-er!" Ashton cries out, pointing. "I told you she's everywhere!!"

We run up the stairs the rest of the way. Ashton follows me to my room. When I open the door and turn on the light, everything is upside down.

"What happened to your room?" she gawks.

"It got dissected," I say in awe.

"Someone really doesn't like you, Princess," Brendan declares from behind us. We both spin around in surprise. "What did you do?"

My entire room is stripped and shredded and broken. I bend down and pick up the head of the zebra. "Oh no."

On the wall, in bright red paint is:

"Yup," I tell the wall. "I know."

I sleep in Ashton's room. So does Brendan, which wasn't weird until I wake up, sober. Thankfully, Ashton's in the middle. Weirdly, we both have an arm around her that is also holding the other's. I pull it back like his is on fire as soon as I comprehend what the hell is happening. Then I proceed to knock my head on the ceiling in an attempt to flee.

"What are you doing?" Ashton groans.

"I have to meet my life advisor," I tell her, crawling over her to reach the ladder.

"I'll call my designer today. We'll fix your room," she tells me as I cross the room.

I don't have much time to take in the destruction when I enter my room in search of workout clothes. My phone's blowing up with messages from Mr. Garner demanding I hurry up.

At breakfast, after the most miserable session with Mack to date, Ashton has color swatches ready for me to pick out and storyboards to choose from. When I ask her who's paying for it, she responds, "Parent guilt." So I let her black Amex pay for whatever she wants.

"So, who did it?" she asks hesitantly. I know she's not one to pry when information isn't volunteered, but the concern on her face wins over her inner struggle not to inquire.

"I don't know," I reply.