Page 1 of Faking the Play

Chapter one

Amelia

“Holy shit! Did you see this? Full-on bush in that shot. I mean, wax or something.”

The voice sounded young, more girl than woman, and the excitement—however inappropriate—in her voice made me smile. I was only twenty, but my parents always joked that I’d been “born old.” I was the type to skip a grade in elementary school and then slip right from high school valedictorian to overachieving psychology major without even a hint of excitement.

And speaking of psychology, I had books to get. Books that weren’t on the syllabus for anyone else in my program, and that thought did send a little flash of excitement through me. I’d just found out a couple hours ago that I got the teaching assistant position I interviewed for last week. Not only was it a great opportunity to work with Dr. Beren Isenberg, but it came with a scholarship for the graduate-level studies I hoped to pursue next year.

“What do you think the story is there?” another young female voice asked. “Do you think the professor actually asked her todo the whole ‘naughty librarian’ thing? Because if that’s how she dresses normally—well, it’s the unsexy version of it.”

“I want to know if he’s the one who posted the pictures, or if he shared them with someone? I mean, no way did she post them—anda confession that she’s banging her teacher—by accident.”

“Maybe she did it on purpose. Tried to blackmail him, or he dumped her ass for someone hotter. Not that it’d be hard.”

“Does it say who the prof is?”

I winced as I pulled a reference book from the shelf. I really hoped it wasn’t anyone from CSU, because the last thing Colorado State University needed was a professor-student scandal. We were starting off the year with a football team that had the chance to make a record-breaking season, and a science department that was getting some attention for some breakthrough in micro-something-or-other.

“Oh, this one isn’t too bad,” the first girl said. “Looks like she shaved or waxed or something. Maybe the professor offered extra credit for a bare—”

I stepped around the end of the bookcase, chuckling to myself as the two girls froze, eyes wide. With my shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail and my plain white button-up shirt, I probably looked like an employee, and their conversation wasn’t exactly one for polite company.

I didn’t really want to talk to complete strangers and I didn’t care about gossip, so I just gave them an awkward smile and went to walk around them to get to the checkout.

“Is that…?” one of the girls whispered.

If she was trying to keep anyone else from hearing, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Shh.”

“Don’t elbow me.”

I rolled my eyes at the hushed bickering, knowing this was probably going to be the talk of the student body as classesstarted next week. Hopefully, my new job would keep me too busy to be bothered by it much. Everyone else in the store, however, seemed like they only wanted to talk about these pictures. In fact, as far as I could tell, I was the only person not currently looking at their phone.

Which explained the funny looks I got as I reached the register and set my stack of books down on the counter.

“Normally, I’d be against a man posting naked pictures of his girlfriend online, but she cheated on him with a professor just to get some job, so if he did it—and there’s no proof he did—I can’t say I blame him. I just wonder who the poor sap is,” the cashier said to her co-worker as she set down her phone and turned toward me. Her eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. “How, uh…how can I help you?”

I raised an eyebrow and gestured to the stack of books in front of me.

“Um, ID?”

I had no idea why she sounded so flustered, but I had other things on my mind—namely, the reading I needed to get done before classes started tomorrow. Professor Isenberg hadn’t asked me to do it, but I believed in being as prepared as possible, especially since most TAs had a lot more warning than twenty-four hours before the first class.

At least, if the current crowd was any indication, I wasn’t the only one getting my textbooks at the last minute.

That didn’t, however, explain the fact that I could feel people staring at me. I looked around as surreptitiously as possible as the cashier scanned my books, and it wasn’t my imagination. People really were staring. And whispering.

Did I have something on my face? On my clothes? I’d eaten pizza for lunch, but I didn’t remember dropping anything. And I always checked my shoes after using a public restroom, afterthat one incident in ninth grade when I’d walked around with a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

“Here.” With one hand, the cashier shoved the bag of books in my direction, and with the other, she held out my card. Unlike everyone else, she didn’t look at me at all.

“Uh, thanks.” I took my things and headed for the exit, uncomfortable as I realized all those eyes were following me there too.

As soon as I got away from the crush of people, I decided, I would find a quiet spot to stop and check myself over, figure out if I’d put my shorts on backward or something. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be anyone over by the CSU Rams sweatshirts and blankets—which made sense since it was still blazing hot outside—so I took a small detour to duck between two clothing displays.

Once I set down my bag, I fished my phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it when it buzzed with an incoming text. I smiled, wondering if it was a congratulatory text from my boyfriend.

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