Page 3 of Pretty Threats

I click off the screen.

No, it better not be.

But as I slide the phone into my pocket, the sickness in me hopes it is.

Because that would give me the perfect excuse to finish what I started.

2

RAINE

Ineed my coffee to kick in. It’s early and I’m tired. All week, I was swamped with assignments, so I still need to record and edit a post for my personal vlog. As I prep for recording my newest video, I place my camera on a tripod in a corner of the courtyard between residence halls.

My vlog, which I started three years ago, is where I get to show some advanced film editing techniques I’ve taught myself. Its focus was on my dream of getting into film school, and information I shared about my journey helped me gain a solid following of 27,000 people. Despite my grades in high school not being the strongest, my channel got me interviews at a lot of prestigious film schools. Now, I’m in one.

After I started at GU, a professor who’d interviewed me for admission encouraged me to keep vlogging throughout college, saying it’s a great showcase for me as a young filmmaker and that having thousands of followers will make me an attractive hire for small production companies that need all the grass-roots marketing they can get.

So, here I am, on a Saturday, awake at dawn to take advantage of the quiet and the morning light. I stand in front of the flower border that runs along the courtyard’s wrought iron fence. Bright orange day lilies are still in bloom, along with red bee balm and golden black-eyed Susans. There are mixes of different colored ferns between the flowers, giving the flowerbed a fresh, lush look even in fall. No bushes or trees were planted along the east fence because it would ruin the view of the river. This is a perfect video backdrop.

As I start recording, strands of hair fly across my face. “Ah, the wind!” I coil my chestnut hair around my hand to clip it up as I continue. “That’s the Tyne river behind me.” I gesture with a tilt of my chin as I slide the clip in place. “Because the water’s so close, the wind is fierce here.”

Hair secured, I drop my arms and smile brightly into the camera. “For those of you who are new to my channel, I’m Raine, a freshman film major at Granthorpe University in Massachusetts. I live in Meredith Hall.” I point to the right at the beige brick building with architecture from close to a hundred years ago.

“Our dorm shares this courtyard with Moses Hall.” I gesture to the larger building across the way before turning back to my dorm. “Meredith is the oldest female dorm on campus, and it was my first choice. A lot of girls in Central, which is newer, love it there because it has a dining hall and a market. But Meredith was my first choice because it’s so iconic. There are tall arches in the lobby and hand-done plasterwork. Also, all the resident rooms have a view of the river or this courtyard.”

I’ve already shown my room and the view through my window in a previous video, but there have been a thousand new subscribers in the month since I moved into the dorm, so it’s important to catch them up.

“I got a river view, which is super rare for a freshman. I saw in the comments of my move-in post that you want to know how I got a room with that view. I think it’s because I did a little extra work. This year, the school’s celebrating the hall’s history, and they asked us to write an essay about why we’d like to live in Meredith for extra consideration. I’m sure that helped me get a ground-floor single.”

I take a deep, exaggerated breath. “One warning… Here, the scent of plants and flowers is overpowered by the river smells of mud, seaweed, fish and clams. For me, that feels quintessentially New England, but if you don’t care for the way waterfronts smell, think about choosing another dorm, farther inland. Now that I’ve got friends all over, I can take you on a tour of the other halls, too.” I tilt my head to the side and point below me as if I can see what the viewer is seeing. “Let me know in the comments if you want to see more residence halls.”

Moving a step back, I make a show of assessing my dorm. “But back to Meredith.” I gaze into the camera again, not having to force my smile any brighter than it is. “I love it. It’s everything I hoped, and all the girls are really friendly. Like me, a lot of them are studying the arts in some form or another.”

It’s moments like this where I can’t believe I’m here. True, getting to this point was not easy, but the important thing is I made it. And if my vlog can help anyone on their own path forward, then it’s extra worth it.

Remembering something I wanted to touch on, I lean forward. It’s important to give subscribers a sense of the Granthorpe community. “Our first week here, the upperclassman had an info sesh over brunch and a dorm party to welcome the freshmen. In a minute?—”

My voice chokes off when I spot Killian Callahan. He’s tall, obscenely gorgeous, and moves through the picturesque landscape like Hades through a meadow.

A glimpse of him would sky-rocket my subscribers.

Too bad he’s the one person in the world I avoid above all others.

How did he get into the courtyard? Killian doesn’t live in Moses. And, more importantly, why is he here? After three months of not spotting him, I’d started to believe things had changed.

My stepbrother sits atop a picnic table about fifteen feet from my tripod. His forearms rest on his thighs and his fingers are laced casually together so his big hands hang in the gap between his knees. To anyone else, his posture might seem relaxed. In truth, he’s like an idling race car that can go from zero to sixty in three seconds.

With a slow breath, I walk across the damp grass to my camera. Definitely time to go. Squawking gulls fly overhead in circles as if trying to warn me. I end the recording and pull the tripod clamps open to remove my camera.

With a quick glance to the side, I see Killian stand. The sun adds faux gilding to his brown hair. I can look at him from a distance without my insides melting, but up close, there are challenges.

Killian’s handsome in a way that catches people’s attention and doesn’t let go. If he wanted to be an actor, he’d be leading man material.

I hurry to put my camera in my tote.

“Raine.” His voice is as deep as the ocean, so he sounds more like a man than a boy. He looks like one, too.

As I lift my tripod and fold it together, a shadow falls. My heart bangs. He looms over me with all the foreboding of a gothic tower.

---