5

Two weeks after the Mikal disaster, Julia had almost convinced herself she was okay. She'd thrown herself into schoolwork with an intensity that worried Kate but kept her busy. If she filled every moment with studying, with volunteering at the campus ministry, with anything and everything that wasn't thinking about that night, she could almost pretend it hadn't happened. Almost. "You're doing it again," Kate said, looking up from her laptop where she was supposed to be writing an essay but was actually online shopping.

"Doing what?" Julia didn't look up from her psychology textbook. "Hiding. You've been to the library every night this week. You turned down three invitations to hang out with people from our floor. You're even going to more chapel services than required, which is saying something."

"I'm just focused on school." "You're avoiding life." Kate closed her laptop with a decisive click. "Jules, I know Mikal hurt you. But you can't let one asshole turn you into a hermit."

"I'm not a hermit. I'm a student. You know, the thing we're paying tuition to be?" "Don't deflect." Kate moved to sit on Julia's bed, forcing her to pay attention. "I'm worried about you. You've shut down. You barely eat. You're not sleeping well—don't think I haven't noticed you tossing and turning at night. This isn't healthy." Julia finally looked up, and the concern in Kate's eyes made her throat tight. "I don't know how to be anymore. Before Voltage, I knew who I was. The good girl. The sheltered one. And I hated it, but at least it was clear. Now I'm... what? The girl who gave herself to a stranger and got discarded? The hypocrite who preaches values she doesn't follow?"

"You're Julia," Kate said firmly. "You're my best friend. You're smart and kind and funny. You're someone who took a risk, and it didn't work out, and that sucks. But it doesn't define you." "Doesn't it?" Julia's voice cracked. "I can't even look at myself in the mirror without seeing someone my parents wouldn't recognize. Someone I don't recognize."

"Good." At Julia's shocked expression, Kate continued, "Not good that you're hurting. But good that you're not the same person who arrived on campus three months ago. That Julia was so tightly wound she could barely breathe. She was living someone else's life, following someone else's rules. Yeah, you made a mistake. But you also made a choice. Your choice. That matters."

"A choice that ended with me crying in the shower and swearing off men forever?"

"For now," Kate corrected. "Not forever. You're allowed a mourning period. You're allowed to feel hurt and angry and disappointed. But you can't let this break you, Jules. You're stronger than that." Julia wanted to believe her. Wanted to feel strong instead of shattered. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mikal's smile. Felt his gentle hands. Heard his promises that had evaporated with the dawn. "Come out with me Saturday," Kate said suddenly. "Not to a club! Just... there's this coffee shop that does open mic night. Poetry readings, acoustic music, very chill. We can drink overpriced lattes and pretend to be sophisticated."

"I don't know..." "Please? I hate seeing you like this. You don't have to be ready to date again. You don't have to be over it. Just... be out in the world again. With me. Your best friend who loves you and will punch anyone who looks at you wrong." Despite everything, Julia smiled. "You're five-foot-two. You couldn't punch your way out of a paper bag." "I have sharp elbows and zero mercy. Don't test me." Kate grinned, sensing victory. "Is that a yes?" Julia sighed. "Fine. Coffee shop. But if anyone even looks like they want to talk to me—"

"I'll deploy the elbows. Promise." Saturday's open mic night was exactly what Kate had promised—low-key, artistic, full of college students pretending to understand experimental poetry. Julia actually found herself relaxing, laughing at Kate's whispered commentary about a particularly dramatic reading involving someone's breakup and a metaphorical dying fern. "See?" Kate said as they walked back to campus later. "The world isn't so bad. Not everyone is Mikal." "I know." Julia linked her arm through Kate's. "Thank you for not letting me wallow." "That's what best friends are for. Wallowing prevention and emergency ice cream deployment." They were almost to their dorm when Kate's phone buzzed. She checked it and her expression changed—excitement mixed with mischief. "What?" Julia asked suspiciously. "So... my friend Ash is having a small gathering next Friday. Just a few people, very casual. And before you say no—" "Kate, no." "Before you say no," Kate continued as if Julia hadn't spoken, "it's at his apartment, not a club. There will be food and music and normal human social interaction. You need this." "What I need is to maintain my hard-won hermit status." "Jules—" "I'll think about it," Julia interrupted. "That's the best I can offer right now." Kate looked like she wanted to argue but settled for a nod. "Okay. Think about it. But think seriously, not your version of thinking which is just finding reasons to say no."

That night, lying in bed while Kate snored softly across the room, Julia did think about it. About whether she was ready to rejoin the world. About whether one bad experience should dictate her entire college experience. About whether she was hiding or healing. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was an unknown number.

**Unknown: You looked beautiful tonight. The blue sweater suits you.**

Julia's blood ran cold. She checked the timestamp—sent twenty minutes ago, while they'd been walking back from the coffee shop. Someone had been watching her. Someone who had her number. With shaking fingers, she typed back:

**Who is this?**

The response was immediate.

**Unknown: Someone who's been waiting very patiently for you to stop crying over men who don't deserve you.**

**Julia: This isn't funny. How did you get my number?**

**Unknown: I get everything I want eventually, Julia. Your number was easy.**

**Unknown: Sleep well. Dream of better choices.**

Julia stared at the messages, heart pounding. She should show Kate. Should report this to campus security. Should do something other than sitting frozen in her bed, terrified and confused. But something stopped her. Something about the messages felt familiar. The confidence. The possessiveness. The certainty. She thought back to Voltage. To dark eyes watching from VIP. To a dangerous smile that had promised absolutely everything. Don Massimo. It couldn't be. Why would someone like him—powerful, wealthy, connected—be texting a nobody college student? But even as she tried to rationalize it away, Julia knew. The hunt had begun. And she was the prey. ---