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ME, CINDERELLA?(30)

By:Aubrey Rose


“Hello?”

“Um, Dr. Herceg?”

“Brynn!” His voice sounded so warm and inviting that at first I couldn’t speak. In the background, I could hear laughter and the sounds of people eating. I swallowed hard and coughed.

“Um, I’m here. Got in a few hours ago.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I can’t tell you how glad I am that you made it.” My heartstrings vibrated with his words. “How are you? Did you find the apartments alright? I haven’t been over there yet myself, still at this nonsense dinner.”

“It’s… uh, it’s really cold.”

“Much colder than California, that’s certain!”

“Um, is there—is there any way to turn the heater on?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. One second.” The background noises grew quieter and then I heard Eliot again. “What’s that? The heater?”

“Um, yeah. The heater isn’t on, and I—”

“The heater isn’t on? Brynn, you must be freezing? Are you still in the apartments?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“My god.” Eliot swore, and I heard him speak to someone at the party, this time in Hungarian. They talked back and forth and then Eliot was back on the line.

“Brynn, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be by as soon as I can.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll be right there, don’t worry.” He paused, as though about to say something else, but then changed his mind. “See you soon.”

“See you,” I said. The phone went dark in my hand.

I patted Lucky on the head.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be okay.”

Lucky purred contentedly.





CHAPTER EIGHT



Eliot threw down his napkin on the table.

“I have to be off,” he said.

“So soon? The party isn’t even started yet!” His brother clapped him on the back. “Eliot, I’m throwing this for your honor. The guest of honor can’t leave halfway through the party!”

“You will have to do without me,” Eliot said. “This is urgent.”

“Urgent?” His brother leaned close. “Anything I can help with?”

“No, nothing like that,” Eliot said. “Just a mix-up with the academy apartments for the interns.” He pulled his arms hastily through his coat and shrugged it over his shoulders.

“The one arriving today?” his brother asked.

“Yes.”

“The girl?”

Eliot looked up at his brother in exasperation. “I’ve told you—”

“And I saw that special look in your eye when you were talking about her.”

“No special look.”

“Eliot, why not?”

He shook his head.

“Eliot, you deserve to be happy.”

“She’s a student.”

Otto stood up and pulled his brother into a warm embrace. “Forget everything else. Really. You deserve to be happy. Eliot—”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let your head get in the way of your heart,” Otto said. He smiled and turned away, back to the other party guests.

Eliot couldn’t get his brother’s words out of his head, but there was nothing for it. He had promised not to get too close—he didn’t want to interfere with the internship and all that went with it. Brynn seemed fragile, and he shied away from reaching out to her. He didn’t want to break another fragile thing. He pushed his way across the room, past the guests who were chattering happily and dancing to the music.

Eliot froze as he looked across the room. One of the women was dancing; he could not see her face, but he knew by the way the limbs moved that it was Clare, her red hair flashing as she spun in place. His heart ached as he watched her white skin, her slender arms twirling.

“Clare,” he whispered.

“Whoops, sorry!” Another guest bumped into Eliot, almost spilling a drink on him. Eliot helped the man find his balance, and then turned back to the dance floor. The woman dancing in the middle of the crowd was not Clare, she was older, she did not look anything like Clare.

“Sorry about that,” the man said. “Say, are you alright? You’re Otto’s brother, yes?”

“I have to go,” Eliot said, and turned to leave. He looked back once more from the entryway, but he could not find the ghost he had seen dancing. Stop it, Eliot, he thought. Stop it. She is gone.

Eliot jumped into his car and drove as quickly as he could stand to until he reached the apartments. Parking in an empty space on the street, he hopped out of the car and locked it. The building looked smaller than he remembered it, less well-kept. He took the stairs two at a time and rapped his knuckles on the door.