Page 247 of Burn Bright
We didn’t exactly bomb the presentation, but it definitely did not go as planned. The uproar and commotion each time Xander spoke caused the professor to stop us. Girlswept.They were physically trembling as if Xander was talking solely to them. Some went into shock.
I’ve never seen anything like it up close.
Our professor either took pity on us or didn’t have the time for us to present privately without the mayhem—because he just gave us an automatic one hundred.
Xander keeps apologizing as we walk to the dining hall for lunch. Easton is also with us.
I tell him the truth. I couldn’t be happier that we only had to be up there for five minutes tops. No way would I complain about an easy A. Especially in a humanities course. There are enough hard-earned ones in my schedule.
On our trek across the chilly campus, leaves falling, I’m distracted by Donnelly. Xander’s bodyguard speaks into his mic more often now that Ben is MIA. He’s on comms seemingly all the time, and whenever he catches me staring, he’ll shake his head at me like,no new news.
No Ben.
My phone buzzes, and I check the text.
Tom
I sent the packet to you. Let me know what else you need. I can email you what I think the proposed tour schedule would be.
Harriet
Def send that.
I told Tom if I were toseriouslyconsider his offer then he needed toseriouslygive me all the information. Contracts, people I’d be working with—producers, managers, whoever. I want details.
He’s surprisingly followed through in epic fashion. For a chaos-maker, he is incredibly detail-oriented and organized.
Tom
Will do, Harry.
My phone vibrates again. This time a phone call from an unknown number. I stop abruptly, wind nipping my face.
Xander turns back around. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah, someone’s calling me. It’s an unknown number.”
Xander looks to Donnelly, who wears just as much confusion as me.
I wrack my brain for who it could be. “It might be spam.”
“What if it’s Ben?” Xander says, more hopefully.
“Or maybe it’s Guy Abernathy,” Easton says, popping his coat collar as more cold air blows through the wind tunnel in the quad. “We still don’t know who’s made the Honors House.” Easton is in the top five, still in contention like me. With thesemester ending, they shouldbe whittling five down toone.It’s nuts they’ve even taken this long to choose a new member.
It’s likely the House is split on who to pick. Maybe they’ve finally decided, and it’s not me.
I prepare for a rejection, since that seems more likely than Ben calling. And I answer on the last ring.
“Harriet Fisher?” It’s a very unfamiliar, deep male voice.
Not Guy.
Not Ben.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Gordon Brown. Ben Cobalt’s estate attorney. If I could have a moment of your time, I need you to come down to my office and sign some paperwork.”
