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“Go away, Oliver! Don’t you have some little blonde cheerleader type to be tongue fucking somewhere?” I hissed out between clenched teeth. Yeah, it was a totally immature response, but I really didn’t give a shit.

Oliver was “that guy” in the art department…the seemingly true, broody, tortured artist whose ass looked amazing in a pair of leather pants. With his white-blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, and sculpted body, Oliver was the kind of guy who knew he looked good. He could be charming when he wanted, and actually, as far as his artwork went, as much as I hated to admit it, he was fairly talented. Everyone fawned over Oliver, and I do mean everyone. Oliver just happened to come from a wealthy family who were all alumni of the college. It was no secret his family members made sizable donations to the college every year. He was also a total man-whore who enjoyed bringing unsuspecting co-eds into his tangled web.

Last year I’d been the unsuspecting one to fall under the spell cast by him. We’d dated for most of my sophomore year, which by all accounts, was a record for Oliver. It ended when I caught him balls deep in a blonde at an off-campus party celebrating the end of the school year. I opened the door to the bedroom and saw them both naked with her gyrating on top of him. Oliver had only looked over at me and smiled before asking if I wanted to join them. It was not a great moment in the timeline of my life. Needless to say, I didn’t join in and things were over with Oliver at that moment.

After the breakup, Oliver continued to be the heartthrob of the art department. There were a few people who thought I was the super-crazy bitch who’d flipped out and tried to hamper Oliver’s “creative process.” I’m not sure what part of the “creative process” involved springing a three-way on me, but whatever. Most people forgot about the incident as soon as the next big piece of drama hit, which luckily, didn’t take long. Bev, my mom, a serial-dater who’d never been without a boyfriend, tried to give me advice on how to fix things with Oliver. Like much of her “advice,” I ignored it. I didn’t have the greatest relationship role model growing up, which was likely another contributing factor to my lack of dating…maybe even more than the constant moving. I was in early elementary school when I realized my life with Bev was not like how other the other kids lived. That’s when I started calling her by her first name instead of mom—it just felt like a better fit for our relationship.

In reality, the relationship with Oliver should’ve been over long before that night. Oliver had very specific ideas about his image. Ideas that required him to spend a whole lot of time and energy maintaining his “perfect” look. Of course, anyone Oliver considered his girlfriend was required to follow along with his persona. The changes he asked me to make were subtle at first but, over time, I totally lost who I was and completely changed myself to become the idea of what Oliver thought his “perfect” girlfriend should be.

Needless to say, it was not a healthy relationship.

Oliver took a step closer and reached out like he was going to touch me. I instinctively recoiled away, which caused him to let out a low chuckle. “You know I’ll always have a spot in my heart, and in my bed, for you, dear Anna.”

“Go away, Oliver. And stop putting the word dear next to my name.” I felt dirty just standing close to him.

“Are you putting together a portfolio for the Spring Art Show, my darling Anna?” Oliver smirked as I rolled my eyes at him replacing dear with darling. He was such an asshole.

“No comment.” I pulled my coat tighter around my body as if it could somehow protect me from Oliver and his creepy ick-factor.

Oliver took a step towards me again and lowered his voice. “You’re very talented, Anna, love. You should be sure to enter. Would be a shame for you to not share your…talents.”

I could feel my irritation level officially reaching overdrive. “Don’t call me ‘love.’ What the hell do you want, Oliver?” My voice was forceful and I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood up straighter.

“I need a model for some of my sketch work. You were always such a beautiful model for me, Anna. Perhaps you would consider, once again, granting me that privilege.” Oliver reached out to touch me again, only this time, I reached up and slapped his hand away. I knew exactly what he wanted. On several occasions when we were together, I’d modeled nude for Oliver. At the time, it seemed to be part of an over-romantic, emotionally intense relationship between two struggling artists. I’d never admit it to him, but some of the drawings and paintings he’d done of me were really stunning. He had a way of diminishing flaws and accentuating the positive to create a real work of art.

There was just no way I was ever doing it again.

“Never,” I hissed back. “You lost any part of me, or anything to do with me, when I caught the blonde riding you like a cheap cowgirl.”

Oliver made a clicking sound with his tongue. “So much anger, Anna. It’s not good for you.”

That was it. I was done. “Move out of my damn way, Oliver,” I growled as I pushed past him and started to walk out of the art building. I heard him shout after me as I walked away, but I kept my head down and ignored him.

“Think about it, Anna! I know you’ll say yes!”

Thing was, I’d never say yes to anything with Oliver again.

Chapter 4

The Truth Comes Out

THAT EVENING, LONG AFTER my confrontation with Oliver, I was sitting with Bree and Sarah in our apartment enjoying pizza and catching up on our favorite show, Sass Queens. It was a campy reality show which threw together a group of contestants who would’ve never gotten along, or even been in the same room together, if it wasn’t for the show. The contestants were supposed to work together to open a clothing store and the winner—i.e., the Sass Queen—won ownership of the store. There were Sass Queen stores all over the United States, and every one of them had a season showing the opening of that location. We were on season eleven and completely addicted. It was our dream to one day shop at a Sass Queen.

The entire time we were watching TV, I kept glancing down at my phone. I hadn’t responded to Mason…yet. At least I was thinking, “yet.” Should I respond to Mason? My encounter with Oliver had sent my head spinning for the rest of the day. I hadn’t been able to reel myself back in enough to figure out what to do about Mason. Instead of paying attention to the show, I was trying to figure out exactly how I felt about the fact Mason hadn’t attempted to contact me again all afternoon or evening. Disappointed? Relieved? Indifferent? Did I want to fix it or walk away? Why did the thought of walking away feel so awful? Did I like him that much already?

“Hey, Anna! What’s on your phone that’s more interesting than the show? I mean they’re trying to put up a display and you know that always results in some kind of adult temper tantrum no one wants to miss,” Bree said from the other side of the sofa.

I snapped my eyes up away from my phone to look at Bree. “Huh? What did you say?”

“You’ve been checking your phone all night. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I replied quickly, flipping my phone facedown on the sofa cushion. “Just distracted.”

“Liar!” Sarah shouted from the floor where she was sitting. Sarah grabbed the remote and paused the show before turning to me. “Spill it!”

I sighed. “Really. I’m just…just thinking about some stuff.” I didn’t know why I was being so weird about the topic. Then again, it had been kind of an off day.

Sarah and Bree stared at me as I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Fine,” Sarah said with a huff and an eye roll. “I’ll be the one to keep this rolling. What kind of stuff are you thinking about?”

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