Page 14 of The Masks We Wear

“Remy.”

More silence. Only this one feels like a pause, a shift perhaps. I bite the inside of my cheek as I wait. Maybe there’re lots of Remys. “I don’t know her las—”

“Solace.”

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Like Solace University, Solace?”

“The one and only.”

Shit.Solace University is a private institution damn near hidden in Emerald Falls Forest on the edge of the city. It’s elite and only for the rich and genius. It was my dream school before I realized the magnitude of money you need to go there.

And money is something I don’t have. Not anymore. It’s tied to my father in Texas, who would love a chance to feel like a father by throwing some at me. Which was reason number one, I dropped the idea of going to Solace and decided to pave my own way.

I sigh, popping open my lavender body wash. If she has ties to Solace University, I definitely can’t fuck with her. I’ll need another tactic. “Play nice, and make sure she comes.”

He lets out a yawn, pulling back the curtain, and dips his head to kiss my cheek. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you, Blaze. Good luck tonight.”

“You, too.” He pushes his now damp black hair out of his face and replaces the curtain. I chuckle as shrieks and gasps echo through the showers as girls make their way inside.

Closing my eyes, I lean against the cool tile.

The weight of everything is getting heavy, and I begin to wonder what it would be like just to let it go.

I bet I would be able to breathe again.

SEVEN

Idon’t give a fuck about what happened. Not even a little bit.

Did I expect it? No. Though, in retrospect, I should have felt it somewhere in between her moments of slight hesitation. But with Lily’s body melded to mine, and her arms wrapped around me, it was like shewantedme, and I let that stupid ass moment melt my guard. It liquified from the heat of her touch, and I fell for it.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

Still, I didn’t want to risk the slight chance of her getting the best of me in class. So I took a day off. Then it turned into two days, and soon it was a week. I don’t regret it. Not seeing her for six days has given me time—to think, plan, and spend it with my mother.

I’ve been able to take her to a couple of therapy sessions, which is where I am now. Sitting in the hard plastic chair next to her, I scroll on my computer, searching for more ways to test my experiment’s hypothesis.

How can different gradient colors affect human behavior and conversation?

My old partner, Maurice, and I already had a plan—script included, though I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off now. I could ask Remy, I know she would help, but that would be selfish. She has her own project to worry about–even if she won’t benefit from the prize.

Solace Scholarship.

Still, the idea of working with my foul blonde partner swirls what little contents are in my guts, making me nauseous.

I huff, closing my laptop with a snap.

“What’s wrong, honey?” My mother’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard. It’s like she’s in a perpetual confessional and everything needs to be handled delicately. She tugs the pink shawl around her thin shoulders, leaning into me, letting her long gray locks brush over my bicep. “You can tell me.”

I spare her a gentle smile and shake my head. Even if my mother wasn’t suffering from the onset of dementia, I still wouldn’t worry her with such petty drama. She’s always had a fragile heart when it came to my happiness. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the miracle baby after fifteen years of infertility or the fact that being a mother at her age makes women a little more sensitive. Either way, I try to wear the mask of contentment well.

Even if it’s only for her.

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