Noelle's POV:

  The classroom smells like a head shop had a one-night stand with a WASP-y mom who's way too into aroma therapy.

  "What the actual fuck?" I say under my breath as we step through the doorway. The space looks like it was decorated by someone who got kicked out of Burning Man for being too intense. Tapestries cover the walls, floor pillows replace chairs, and lava lamps cast strangely sexual-looking blobs of colored light across the room. Fairy lights hang from the ceiling in uneven loops, and I swear to god there's an actual dreamcatcher hanging over what must be the professor's cushion.

  "This is..." Amelia trails off as she takes it all in.

  "An acid trip," I offer.

  Harlowe steps in behind us. "Oh my god, it's like my toxic ex's basement. He was always trying to get me into tantric breathing during sex. As if I want to hold my breath when I could be cumming."

  I give a genuine laugh and pull up my shirt's neckline for the hundredth time. The top had seemed like the right combination of cute and casual this morning, but now I feel like I'm one wrong move away from a wardrobe malfunction. I'm about to suggest we grab seats near the back when—

  I freeze mid-step.

  Across the room, sitting on one of the floor pillows, is Check Guy. He's with Danny and some other guys.

  My throat closes up.

  "Holy shit," Harlowe whispers as she follows my sightline. "He looks even better today. God, I want to climb him like a tree."

  "Who are–oh," Amelia says, with her eyes darting between us and the guys. Her mouth quirks up at the corners as she sees open spots next to them. "Well, that's convenient."

  "It's a nightmare is what it is," I mutter. I now am suddenly very aware about how my top dips low enough to reveal my cleavage. The same cleavage I was perfectly confident about when I left my house.

  "Why? He's hot, you're hot," Harlowe says with the confidence of someone who's never experienced social anxiety. "I'm hot too, actually. One of us should definitely make a move before someone else does."

  That's when it hits me: Harlowe is serious about her own interest in him. She's not just making the comments to be funny, but I think she might want to pursue him. It makes my stomach twist in ways I don't want to acknowledge.

  "Let's just sit over there," I suggest and point to open seats on the other side of the room.

  Amelia rolls her eyes. "You two are pathetic. I'm going over there."

  Without warning, she strides toward the guys and drops on the open floor pillow next to Danny. She turns to us with a smirk and pats the empty pillow beside her.

  "Fuck," I breathe.

  "We have to go over there now," Harloe says, tugging at my sleeve. "Or we'll look like scared little bitches."

  "I am a scared little bitch, though," I say, but I'm already moving forward, propelled by some combination of pride and masochism.

  My feet feel weighted as I cross the room, and I'm aware of the exact moment Check Guy looks up and notices us approaching. His eyes widen slightly, and I'm suddenly turning my attention to a tapestry far away from his eye-line. The room seems to stretch into infinity, and this walk seems to take eternity.

  We finally reach the pillows and I find myself next to Amelia with Harlowe on my other side. She leans across me to get closer to the boys. "Hope you don't mind us crashing the sausage party."

  "The more the merrier," Danny says as he gestures to the remaining pillows. "We were just taking bets on whether this place doubles as the professor's Tinder hookup spot."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "He's kidding," one friend says–Michael, I think. "We were actually talking about how bad of an idea it was to replace chairs with these pillows. My tailbone is already filing for divorce."

  I snort-laugh as I adjust on my cushion, trying to find a way to not give my ass the same idea. Check Guy sits on the other side of Danny. When I look up, I catch him watching me, but he looks away when our eyes meet.

  "So," Amelia says, leaning into the guys, "has anyone heard anything about this class? One of my OLs said the professor likes to make people hold eye contact for like five minutes."

  "God, I hope that's not true," Michael says. "They made me do that at an audition once, and I ended up dating the casting director's niece. Big mistake. Huge."

  Amelia and the guys snicker.

  "What track are y'all on?" Danny asks as he motions to us.

  "Screen-acting," Amelia replies for us. "Any you?"

  "We're theatre," Danny says as he motions to him, Michael, and another guy. He then slaps Check Guy on the shoulder. "This one is a traitor."

  Check guy shrugs with a smile playing on his lips. "I had to follow my heart. And it told me I don't want to project to the back row eight shows a week."

  "Fair," Danny concedes. "I'm sure my vocal chords will be hating me soon enough."

  I keep waiting for a way to break into the conversation, a moment to introduce myself casually, but the rhythm never allows for it. Instead, I find myself watching Check Guy from the corner of my eye. I catalog details I didn't notice during orientation: the way his hands move when he talks, the slight crinkle around his eyes when he smiles, the careful way he sits on his pillow. It seems like his body is a space he's still getting used to.

  "What do you even think they teach in this class?" Harlowe asks. I look up and see she's addressing Check Guy. "Like, how do you hold eye contact without laughing?"

  "Or how to kiss convincingly without catching feelings," the other guy chimes in.

  "Are you speaking from experience?" Amelia asks and raises an eyebrow.

  "Not me," he says with a smirk, "Just every girl who had the pleasure."

  "In your dreams, Romeo," Danny says.

  Everyone laughs, and I feel myself relaxing. This is fine. Normal. We're just actors talking about acting things.

  "What about you?" Harlowe asks Check Guy, and I swear she's even closer to me. Closer to him. "Ever fall for a scene partner?"

  Check Guy hesitates, and I find myself holding my breath.

  "No," he says after a beat. "But I haven't done much scene work with partners. Not really."

  "Well, there's a first time for everything," Harlowe says with a smile that makes her intentions clear.

  "I actually do think I heard something about the class," Danny says as if a lightbulb went off. "My friend was a first-year last year, and they had to perform scenes from The Room in their underwear."

  "You're joking," I say, finally finding my voice.

  "No, it was something like vulnerability breeding truth or whatever," Danny adds. "I think it was only a bra and shorts for the girls. They guys had to go full tighty-whitey."

  "No..." Amelia gasps.

  "He woke up for weeks screaming, 'You're tearing me apart, Lisa."

  Soon after, Harlowe starts to talk about her time in a student horror film. I pretend to fix my hair, using the movement as cover to look at Check Guy. He's not totally perfect. His nose has a slight bump that suggests it was broken once, and there's a scar near his right eyebrow.

  God, I sound like a stalker.

  "–and that's why I think having sex on camera is basically the same as doing a fight scene," Harlow is saying. "It's just choreography."

  "Wow, that's...a perspective," Amelia says, hesitating.

  "You've been quiet, Noelle," Danny says, "What are you thinking about?"

  I wasn't prepared to be put on the spot.

  "She's got secrets," Amelia says, joining in.

  "Fine," I say dramatically. "You caught me. I'm actually on the run after cutting my ex's penis off. Long story, but he deserved it."

  For a split second, there's complete silence. I've gone too far. I've horrified everyone on my first day, and now I'll be known as the Castration Girl for the next two years. My stomach drops–

  Then Danny bursts out laughing, followed by Amelia. Michael even chuckles. And Check Guy, he's looking directly at me now. A full smile breaks across his face for the first time.

  "Remind me to never piss you off," he says, and the low rumble of his voice sends an electric current down my spine.

  "I only target guys who truly deserve it," I respond, my eyes locked with his.

  His smile deepens, and I notice a dimple on his left cheek. "So what does one do to stay off your bad side?"

  "Mmmm, coffee helps," I consider.

  Amelia cleats her throat; I think it's pointed. But I refuse to break eye contact with Check Guy. Something is happening here. Some current is passing between us that makes the room suddenly feel warmer.

  "I'll keep that in mind," he says, leaning over Danny, his voice pitched just for me, despite our friends around us. "Do you have a coffee place recommendation around here?"

  My heart pounds in my chest. Fuck. "Actually, I found this place yesterday that–"

  The door flies with a dramatic bang that makes everyone jump. A man sweeps in like his entrance has been choreographed. He has wild salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of posture that suggests he's been the most important person in every room since birth.

  "Welcome," he announces with his arms spread like he's wrapping the room in an embrace, "to the most important course you will take at this conservatory."