CHAPTER ONE
Serena Britten had dreamed of this forever.
Not bright lights and designer dresses and fame and meeting rock stars...but an enormous library with more books than she could possibly get through even if she stayed right here for an entire lifetime and just read and read and read. In the past two weeks, Green Library had become her absolute favorite place on earth, with its endless shelves of books.
Oh yes, she thought as she smiled and ran her fingertips over the spines of the books nearest to her, it really was just wonderful.
At 9:45 on a Friday night on the Stanford University campus, there weren't many other students in the library. In fact, as she emerged from between the stacks, it didn't actually look like there were any other students here. Just Serena and the woman behind the privileges desk who was looking at her watch, obviously waiting for her to leave so that she could close everything up and start her weekend.
Serena checked out the three great new books she'd found, then took a baseball cap out of her bag and put it on, tucking her long hair up into it. Due to the Indian summer in Northern California over the past couple of weeks, it was still fairly warm, but since it was too dark out to wear sunglasses, putting on a hat and a shapeless Cardinals sweatshirt helped increase the odds that she could walk past people unnoticed, particularly any paparazzi who might be lurking in the shadows. She was used to strangers wanting to take pictures with her, and most of the time they were really nice. It was just that sometimes guys made her feel uncomfortable by standing a little too close or by making borderline dirty comments about pictures they'd seen of her.
If only she could wear a disguise in her History and Theory of the Novel class. Her professor, Dr. Julian Fairworth, had actually made her skin crawl today when he'd looked at her like he was trying to see through her jeans to what lay beneath. Despite the warmth of the evening, she shivered at the memory of the way he'd walked by her seat just a little too close and had bent over the book in front of her just a little too far when she'd asked him a question.
Serena had met plenty of lecherous men in Hollywood and on photo shoots over the years, but her mother had always been there to scare them away. This was the first time Serena had to deal with them all on her own.
Which was exactly what you wanted, she reminded herself as she breathed deeply to take in the sweet-smelling night air. The freedom to make her own decisions about school. Career. Clothes. Men.
Life.
Serena's mother, Genevieve, had taken her to her first modeling open call when she was three years old, and for the past sixteen years, she'd worked nonstop all over the world. Her mother was the quintessential "momager"...or rather, she had been until two weeks ago, when Serena had left it all behind.
*
Two weeks ago...
"Mom, I need to talk to you."
Genevieve Britten was carefully studying a layout Serena had been in for a French fashion magazine, taking detailed notes of every brilliant nuance the other models displayed in the photos and where Serena needed to make improvements to stay competitive.
"You've looked better," her mother said without looking up from her intent study of the pages, "but, fortunately, you still outshine the other girls." Her upper lip curled slightly as she pointed at a sixteen-year-old model who Serena remembered had been extremely nervous about her first big job. "I still can't believe they let this one do the shoot without losing ten pounds first."
The girl was gorgeous and not at all in need of losing any weight. But Serena knew better than to try to debate this with her mother. Especially not when she'd finally reached the make-or-break point where she needed to tell her the big news.
"I'm going to Stanford."
Genevieve didn't even raise her eyes from the magazine. "Did Damien book a college shoot that he forgot to tell me about?"
"What I mean is that I'm going to be attending Stanford University. As a freshman." When her mother finally lifted her gaze from the pictures, Serena added, "In two weeks."
Every time Serena brought up the possibility of college during the past few years, Genevieve had laughed and asked what she could possibly want with college when, as a model, the world was already her oyster? It wasn't that her mother didn't have a point. Most people probably would think she was totally nuts for walking away from her career for college. But even if what she was doing didn't make sense to anyone else, it made sense to her.
All her life, she'd loved books. Loved the smell of them and the feel of them in her hands. To read across genres and subjects in every spare moment, and dream up stories of her own. She didn't yet know if she wanted to write books or study books or edit books or publish books or sell books, but that was what college was for, wasn't it? To throw herself into new experiences, some that would hopefully turn out great, others that might not be quite as good...but to know through it all that she'd never regret really, truly--finally--getting to live her life.
"Is this a joke?"
Serena shook her head. "No, it isn't." She'd steeled herself for months to be brave and stand up for what she wanted. "You know attending college has always been my dream." Whereas modeling and Hollywood had always been her mother's dream. Twenty years ago, Genevieve Britten had been the hottest thing on the catwalk...until she'd gotten pregnant with Serena. All her life, Serena had felt like she was making it up to her mother for being born. But she couldn't do that forever. She just coul
dn't.
"Are you crazy?" Her mother's tone left no question that Serena had absolutely lost her mind. "Why would you even think of giving up your career, especially when you're not only one of the top supermodels in the world, but you are also poised to become a serious actor?"
"Smith Sullivan's movie has been shelved," Serena reminded her, "so it's not like I'm walking out on a commitment to him."
Being in a movie would have been a new challenge, but it wasn't one she'd chosen for herself and Serena was beyond glad that the film was no longer on the calendar. It was one thing to walk away from future modeling jobs, but if she'd actually been cast in a major motion picture, she could never have walked away from it in good conscience...and then she would have had to postpone her plans for college another year. Or longer, probably, if the movie did well.
"Smith's film will happen, even if it takes a little longer than he originally planned," her mother insisted, her voice rising in pitch with each word, as if she'd just begun to realize that Serena was actually serious this time. "Even without it, you have runway commitments, print bookings."
"I've already spoken with Damien. We haven't yet signed any new contracts with makeup and fashion houses, and he told me there are plenty of other models who can step in to the shoots or runway shows that I'm booked for during the next few months."
Serena could have sworn everything in the room went still, even the tiny molecules of dust floating in the air. Completely, perfectly still, as if time had frozen.
"You went behind my back and talked to your agent about this?" Every word Genevieve spoke was pure, seething fury. "How dare you?"
Serena had so badly wanted to be honest with her mother and show her the college applications, rather than secretly filling them out online. She wished she could have shared her excitement when the acceptance email had come. Probationary acceptance. Since she hadn't ever been to any regular school, but had tested really high and written several long essays specifically for placement in the English Department, Stanford had agreed to admit her for the fall quarter with "Special Registration" status. Which meant they had given her one quarter to impress the heck out of the admissions committee with phenomenal grades and recommendations from her professors. If she did that, she'd be accepted as a permanent student.
Serena wasn't proud that she'd kept the news from her mother for so long, but she'd been so afraid that it would all come crashing down otherwise. All her life, it had only been the two of them. She'd never known her father--when he'd found out her mother was pregnant, he'd immediately split, and had passed away a few years later. Even as a little girl, Serena had realized that her mother's smiles, her praise, her hugs only came when she was pleased with a job Serena had done well, or when good news came that she'd booked an important shoot or runway show. She'd done everything she could to make Genevieve happy.
And maybe she could have continued like that were it not for the fact that Serena's own dreams had begun to diverge more and more from her mother's. Books, not fashion shows. Libraries, not movies. Quiet nights devouring a story by one of her favorite authors, not splashy Hollywood parties.
Serena wanted, more than anything, to live a life that she was passionately excited about.
She wanted to wake up each morning feeling exhilarated.
She wanted to laugh and love and feel.
"I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt--"
"When?" Her mother had risen from her seat and stalked toward Serena, standing four inches taller in her heels. "When did you do this?"
"February is when I learned that I was accepted, but I applied in the fall."
"I can't believe you would do this to me." Genevieve raked Serena from head to toe with a harsh look. "Secretly applying to college. Secretly accepting a spot there. Secretly making all of the arrangements to leave me behind completely. And after everything I've sacrificed to help you become a star."
Genevieve's hand rose as if to slap her, and Serena was already flinching when her mother lowered it. But something raw and icky had her wondering if the reason the slap hadn't come was less because her mother had an issue with hitting her...and more that she didn't want to risk marring Serena's money-making face before tomorrow's shoot.
"I remember what it was like to be a teenager wanting to rebel against my mother," Genevieve said in a voice that was suddenly too calm. Too dismissive. "I suppose I should have seen this coming."
It was almost worse to have her mother dismiss her dreams so thoroughly that she was no longer even fighting with her about it.
"You'll soon realize how crazy you're being." Genevieve's eyes were cold. Certain. "I have no doubt that you'll be back. Soon. Especially when you realize that you will never, ever fit in with the other students. Do you really believe that you will be able to walk around on campus like a normal student would?"
It was as if she had pointed a laser straight at the heart of Serena's biggest fear. Not just that she wouldn't be able to hack a full load of classes and difficult tests, but that she wouldn't fit in with the other freshmen. She hadn't ever had a group of girlfriends, not when she'd constantly been on planes with only her mother as a companion. Serena was utterly terrified that she would always be a freak and that she'd never be able to live a normal life outside of the cameras and the spotlight.
But Serena's dreams had become even bigger than her terror, so big that she was finally willing to risk everything to take a chance on them.
Genevieve was almost out of the room when she turned back to Serena, eyes narrowed as if some horrible new thought had just occurred to her. "Is this about a boy?"
"No. Of course not. When would I even have met anyone?" How could I when you keep me under lock and key?
Her mother had that look in her eyes, the one that always glittered when she talked about how all men were scum, that they could only be trusted to take and use and hurt.
"If I find out that you're tossing away everything I've given you for some boy who only wants to fuck you and forget you," her mother said in a low, menacing voice, "it will be the ultimate betrayal. And I will never, ever forgive you."
But there had never been any boy, or any man, who had stirred Serena up inside. She'd heard other models giggle about their boyfriends, their lovers, but the truth was she'd not only never been kissed, she'd never longed for a kiss from any of the boys she'd known, either.
"There's no one," Serena promised. "I'm going to college for me."
For the first time in her life, she was doing something entirely for herself. And even when her mother slammed the bedroom door of their hotel suite in her face, Serena vowed to keep boldly sticking to her guns. No matter what obstacles might pop up along the way.
And all the while, Serena would also never give up hope that her mother would forgive her...so that they could finally have a loving relationship that didn't have anything to do with business.
*
The music streaming out of the open dorm windows drew Serena out of her memories of the conversation with her mother and back to campus. When Serena had first moved in to the three-story building, she had expected everyone else at Stanford to be a bookworm like she was. Only to find that most other students' bookshelves held everything but books--makeup, magazines, and a surprising number of already empty bottles of alcohol.
Thus far, she hadn't seen too many of her fellow students crack open a book, either. How, she wondered, did they all manage to be so carefree about their classes when she felt like she was drowning already? Were they all that much smarter than she was that they didn't even have to try? Good thing she loved the library so much, because it was clearly where she was going to be spending most of her time trying to squeeze everything she was being taught into her brain.
But as she headed for the second floor and saw groups of students chatting and laughing as they got ready to go out, she had to ask herself--had she come to college just to spend all of her time in the library? Hadn't she also dreamed of living a "normal" life for o
nce? Of taking risks and trying new exciting things that she never would have been able to experience in her old life? Of finally being free?
And yet, she hadn't been to one single campus party. She'd always had a paper to write or a test to study for. But those were just excuses. And regardless of how much she loved books and the library and her classes, she knew there had to be more to living life than just studying and reading. Besides, she'd been to dozens of terrifying Hollywood parties over the years, so a campus party should be a piece of cake, shouldn't it?
Unlocking her door, she saw that her roommate wasn't around, but there were several girls at the end of the hall who were clearly getting ready to go out. Serena made herself smile through her nerves as she headed over to them.
"Hi," she said as the girls turned toward her. She started to give an awkward little wave before pulling her hand back a moment too late for them not to see. "Are you guys going to a party on campus tonight?"
Jen, a pretty blonde, nodded. "Delta Tau Delta."
When Jen didn't say anything more, and neither did Larissa or Holly as they focused on pouring each other tequila shots, every cell in Serena's body screamed at her to go back to her room for another quiet night of studying before she made a complete fool of herself.
No. She needed to go for it, not hide out someplace safe like she had for the past two weeks she'd been at school.
"I'd love to join you guys, if that would be okay?"
Jen made a sad face. "Actually, the three of us are already late. We are just about to head out the door." She looked pointedly at Serena's clothes before adding, "And you'll probably need a while to get ready. So maybe we'll see you there."
Serena had momentarily forgotten about the baggy jeans, sweatshirt, and baseball cap she was wearing. Her disguise, as she liked to think of it, to throw off any photographers who might be lurking around wanting to get a picture of her to sell to the gossip sites.
"Sure," she said, in what she hoped was an easy voice that didn't betray how lame she felt for asking them if she could tag along, only to have the answer be no. She tried not to let her smile slip either. "I'll see you there."
While the girls continued to drink and laugh as if they had all the time in the world before they needed to leave, Serena headed down the hall to the bathroom. At this time of night, the showers were blessedly empty. She hung up her towel on a hook in the tiled enclosure, then stood under the warm spray and tried to let it wash away her doubts about actually going to the party.