Page 41 of Twisted Lies

Chapter 19

Astrid

This time I don’t wait to be summoned into an office for a stressful meeting. Instead, I wait anxiously outside of Professor Harmon’s office in the faculty building, checking my phone for the time. Her office hours start in a few minutes, but Harmon arrives early. She pauses when she turns the corner and sees me sitting in a chair pulled next to her door.

Harmon doesn’t look at me as she unlocks her door, and I can’t tell if she’s angry, upset, or judging.

“Come in, Astrid.” She opens the door wide as I walk into her office. The room isn’t what I expected at all. It’s missing the bookcases of hardcover books, and the furniture isn’t old-fashioned. It looks brand new from Target in bright jewel colors of blues, greens, and acid yellows. I run my hand over a fuzzy chair.

“I keep my books at home,” she explains, closing the door. “People kept stealing them, and I don’t mean the students. Are you thinking of filing a complaint?”

I sit down on the plush velvet chair. I want to meet her eyes, but I can’t. Instead, I shake my head and stare at my ragged cuticles.

“Unfortunately, I don’t blame you,” she sighs, “I teach rhetoric, but arguing innocence in that situation is a hard argument, especially if you’re the opposite sex.”

“Meaning that no one would believe me,” I reply.

“Society has a script about that situation.” Harmon frowns. “Sex is all around us, but God help you if you’re a woman who enjoys it.” She shakes her head. “You’re not the one who needs a lecture. I’m glad you came in. You’ve been looking worn out, like you’re carrying around a lot in your mind, so what can I do for you?”

“I was approached by a girl who requested that I sleep with her boyfriend,” I reply quickly before I can stop my mouth. “She wants him to have a fling before they marry.”

Harmon leans back in her chair and rubs her eyes with her hand. “Do you even know the boy?”

I nod. “I don’t get this place or these people. At my old school, touching the wrong person would lead to a beat-down. Sure, guys shared girls, but girls never shared guys. Am I not getting something?”

“You’ve been trained like the rest of us to accept one dynamic but not the other,” replies Harmon, “In ancient times, there existed matriarchies where women made all the choices, including having multiple partners and refusing matrimony. May I make a wild guess that the boy is Bryce Shelton?”

I gawk at her as my cheeks heat. “Yes, but how do you know?”

“The faculty dining room.” She smirks. “They’re worse than the kids. Present company is an exception. I’d keep on doing what you’re doing and ignore them. I’d advocate another hard slap across the sucker’s face, but Rawlins is cracking down on brawling. Besides, you probably won’t see these kids after graduation.”

“But I will,” I reply. “My father has money, and if I take his name, he’ll expect more than a card on Father’s Day.”

“So, that’s your secret,” Harmon says thoughtfully, “There’s been a lot of speculation on who paid your tuition, but no one knows.” She waves her hand. “And I don’t need to pry.”

“It’s Dr. Elliot Howland.” The name rushes out as if a pin had popped a balloon, and the relief of not carrying it around drains me. “Please don’t tell.”

Harmon’s eyes can’t stop staring at me. “No wonder,” she speaks softly. “That explains some things.”

“Like what?” I ask, leaning in closer.

“Are you sure no one else knows?” she asks, arching her eyebrow.

“Dr. Rawlins knows,” I reply, “and of course, Charlotte.”

“And Charlotte Howland is dating Bryce Shelton.” Harmon shakes her head and smiles at the wall as if it’s also sharing my secret. “That explains even more. She’s either setting you up for a fall, or she has you pegged as the poor relation.”

I crease my brow. “I am the poor relation.”

Harmon picks a pencil off her desk, rolling it in between her fingers to help her think. “The expectation is that you will sleep with your sister’s boyfriend, and if you do, she’ll tell your father. That will cast you in a bad light and possibly end the engagement.”

Charlotte not wanting Bryce hadn’t occurred to me. “Why would Charlotte want to end the engagement? Why can’t she say no?”

“Not sure of her reasons, but that scenario is not uncommon,” replies Harmon, “Slut shame the girl, and get rid of the boy. Or the other scenario is that she doesn’t value your position in the family. So she expects you to do the dirty work like a Victorian chambermaid—bedded by the lord of the manor while the mistress takes her tea. I doubt she suggested her plan for altruistic reasons.”

I rub the chill off my arms. “I never thought of Charlotte in that way.”

Harmon shakes her head. “It’s not Charlotte. It’s Stonehaven. You can place any of these girls in the same circumstances, and they’d act the same.” She pauses. “No, that’s not right. Many of them will have plans for their lives that don’t revolve around men. You do have a problem, Astrid, but it’s not insurmountable.”

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