Chapter 3: Carter and Clara III

The Briar University conservatory hall was literally the only place on this entire campus where I didn't feel like I was drowning.

Normally my life is a chaotic blur of dodging debt collectors, scrubbing toilets, and pouring cheap coffee for ungrateful college kids. 

But on Friday nights... for exactly two hours... I got to pretend I was someone else. Someone who actually belonged here.

I was standing under the warm stage lights, wearing a rented black velvet dress that was definitely two sizes too small and itchy as hell. 

But the acoustics in the hall were absolute perfection. 

I was halfway through an Italian classical aria, letting the music completely take over my brain. It was my safe zone. The one place where my bank account balance didn't matter. 

The one place where my deadbeat stepmom and my mountain of tuition debt didn't exist.

I closed my eyes, hitting a high note that echoed beautifully off the domed ceiling. It felt amazing. For a second I actually felt powerful.

Then I opened my eyes.

And my entire world completely crashed.

Sitting right there in the front row, right in the center of the plush red velvet seats, was Carter Graham.

I almost choked on my own spit. Literally. I barely managed to hold the note, my voice wavering for a fraction of a second before I forced it back under control.

What the actual hell was he doing here?

Carter was leaning back in his chair with his long legs crossed at the ankles. 

He wasn't wearing his stupid varsity hockey jacket tonight. No, he was wearing a sleek tailored black suit. No tie, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt casually undone like he had just walked off the set of a billionaire romance movie.

He looked completely out of place among the elderly donors and music professors. And he knew it.

When he saw me looking at him, that same infuriating, arrogant smirk spread across his face. 

The one that made me want to throw my microphone stand directly at his perfectly sculpted jaw.

He gave me a slow, sarcastic two finger salute from the front row.

I spent the last ten minutes of my performance entirely in fight or flight mode. 

I was sweating through my cheap dress. 

My hands were shaking. I don't even know how I finished the song without passing out. 

The second the crowd started clapping, I practically sprinted off the stage, my heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor.

I burst into the backstage dressing room, slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind me.

"Breathe, Clara," I muttered to myself, leaning over the makeup vanity and grabbing a plastic water bottle. "Just breathe. 

He is probably just here for some mandatory athletic department donor thing. He is going to leave. Just ignore him."

I chugged half the water, my hands trembling.

The dressing room door clicked open.

"Nice opera singing, Chloe."

I spun around, nearly choking on my water.

Carter casually strolled into the tiny dressing room like he owned the place. 

Because honestly, his family's name was probably on the plaque outside the building, so he basically did. 

He shut the door behind him, locking us inside.

He was holding one of my classical music program sheets, tapping it against his palm. He looked way too big for this room. 

The smell of his expensive sandalwood cologne instantly filled the small space, completely overpowering the smell of hairspray and old costumes.

"It's Clara," I snapped, slamming my water bottle down on the vanity. "And why are you stalking me at a classical concert?"

Carter leaned back against the closed door, completely unbothered by my anger. He just looked amused. 

"Because you will not answer my texts, Sarah."

My jaw actually dropped. "That is not even my name!"

Carter shrugged lazily, looking down at the program sheet in his hands like he couldn't care less. "Whatever. You are a hard girl to track down, Hayes. 

I had to bribe a guy in the registrar's office just to find out where you work on weekends. Honestly, classical music? Really? It is a little boring, don't you think?"

"Nobody forced you to come," I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"And for the record, it is called art. Not that a guy who spends his life slamming people into plexiglass for a living would know anything about that."

He let out a low raspy laugh. "Ouch. The waitress has claws."

"I am not playing games with you, Graham," I warned him, my heart hammering against my ribs. 

Being this close to him in a tiny locked room was doing terrible things to my nervous system. He was just so... big. And smug. 

"I told you at the diner.

I am not tutoring you. I am not fixing your grades. So you can stop stalking me."

Carter stopped smiling. He pushed off the door and took two slow steps toward me.

I instinctively backed up until my lower back hit the edge of the makeup vanity.

"I don't think you understand how this works," 

Carter said, his voice dropping low. The cocky fuckboy act was slipping again, revealing the actual intense desperation underneath. 

"I am not asking you for a favor. I am offering you a business transaction. A very lucrative one."

"I don't want your money," I repeated, my voice shaking a little bit.

"Everybody wants money," Carter corrected me smoothly. He tossed the rolled up program sheet onto the vanity next to my hand. 

"I did a little digging on you, Hayes. You are drowning. You work two minimum wage jobs, you sing at these stuffy donor events for pennies, and your tuition balance is in the red. You are one late payment away from getting kicked out of Briar entirely."

I felt the blood drain completely out of my face. How the hell did he know that?

"Shut up," I whispered, feeling completely exposed.

"I can make it all go away," Carter said, stepping even closer. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. He looked down at me, his blue eyes dead serious. 

"I will sponsor this entire music program for you. I will pay off your tuition fees by tomorrow morning. I will wipe your debt completely clean. All you have to do is tutor me for the psych final so my dad doesn't rip me off the ice."

It was a ridiculous amount of money. Life changing money. For him, it was probably just pocket change. For me, it meant surviving. It meant not being homeless.

For a second, a very brief, pathetic second, I actually considered it.

But then I looked at his face. I saw the sheer arrogance. 

The absolute certainty that he could just buy his way out of his own laziness. 

He literally thought my whole life, my struggles, my passion for music... it all just had a price tag for him to swipe his black card on.

It made me physically sick.

"No," I said, my voice hardening.

Carter frowned, his dark brows pulling together. "What?"

"I said no," I told him, shoving past him so I wasn't trapped against the vanity anymore. 

"Your dirty money ruins everything it touches, Graham. You think you can just buy people because you are too lazy to open a textbook? You are pathetic. And you are everything I hate about this school."

Carter turned around to face me, his jaw clenching hard. The air in the room suddenly felt dangerously heavy. He wasn't used to people saying no to him. Ever.

"You are being stubborn and stupid," he said harshly. 

"You are going to lose everything over some weird moral high ground."

"At least I actually earned everything I have," I fired back, pointing a shaking finger at the door. 

"Get the hell out of my dressing room. And don't ever come near me again."

For a long tense moment, we just stared at each other. 

His eyes were burning with frustration and something else I couldn't quite read.

He looked like he wanted to yell at me. Or grab me. I honestly wasn't sure which.

But finally, he let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Fine," Carter bit out, his voice practically vibrating with anger. 

"Have it your way, Hayes. Let's see how long your pride keeps you warm when you get evicted."

He turned around, yanked the heavy wooden door open, and slammed it shut behind him.

The dressing room shook from the force of the slam.

I stood there alone for a solid minute, just breathing in the silence. My whole body was trembling.

I did it. I actually stood my ground against the most powerful guy on campus. I told a billionaire to shove his money.

A weird, twisted sense of victory bubbled up in my chest. Lol, take that, Carter Graham.

I walked over to the vanity to grab my bag, ready to change out of this itchy dress and go home to celebrate with some cheap ramen.

Then my cell phone started buzzing violently against the wood.

I picked it up. The caller ID flashed a local number. The Briar University Bursar's Office.

At 9:00 PM on a Friday? That was never a good sign.

My stomach tied itself into a massive knot. I swiped the green button and pressed the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Clara Hayes?" a cold, tired woman's voice asked on the other end.

"Yes, speaking."

"This is Brenda from the financial aid office. I am calling regarding your outstanding tuition balance of eight thousand five hundred dollars."

"Right," I stammered, my mouth suddenly going completely dry. 

"I... I filed the extension paperwork yesterday. The system said I had a thirty day grace period while the scholarship appeal was still processing."

"Yes, about that," Brenda sighed. "Your scholarship appeal was officially denied by the board an hour ago. Due to the new department policies, your grace period has been revoked."

"Revoked?" I gasped, the room suddenly spinning around me. "Wait, you cannot do that. I don't have the money!"

"I am sorry, Ms. Hayes, but the system automatically updated," she said, sounding completely robotic and bored. "You now have exactly forty eight hours to pay the balance in full. 

If the payment is not received by Monday morning, you will be administratively withdrawn from all your classes and expelled from the university."

Click.

The line went dead.

I slowly lowered the phone from my ear, staring blindly at the cracked screen.

Forty eight hours.

Thousands of dollars.

Or immediate expulsion.

My victory from two minutes ago completely shattered. The walls of the dressing room felt like they were closing in on me. I couldn't breathe. I literally couldn't breathe.

I looked at the crumpled classical music program sitting on the vanity where Carter had left it.

I was completely, utterly screwed.