Faking the Play (Hot Mess Harems #2)

1. Amelia

Chapter one

Amelia

“ H oly shit! Did you see this? Full-on bush in that shot. I mean, wax or something.”

The voice sounded young, more girl than woman, and the excitement—however inappropriate—in her voice made me smile. I was only twenty, but my parents always joked that I’d been “born old.” I was the type to skip a grade in elementary school and then slip right from high school valedictorian to overachieving psychology major without even a hint of excitement.

And speaking of psychology, I had books to get. Books that weren’t on the syllabus for anyone else in my program, and that thought did send a little flash of excitement through me. I’d just found out a couple hours ago that I got the teaching assistant position I interviewed for last week. Not only was it a great opportunity to work with Dr. Beren Isenberg, but it came with a scholarship for the graduate-level studies I hoped to pursue next year.

“What do you think the story is there?” another young female voice asked. “Do you think the professor actually asked her to do the whole ‘naughty librarian’ thing? Because if that’s how she dresses normally—well, it’s the unsexy version of it.”

“I want to know if he’s the one who posted the pictures, or if he shared them with someone? I mean, no way did she post them— and a confession that she’s banging her teacher—by accident.”

“Maybe she did it on purpose. Tried to blackmail him, or he dumped her ass for someone hotter. Not that it’d be hard.”

“Does it say who the prof is?”

I winced as I pulled a reference book from the shelf. I really hoped it wasn’t anyone from CSU, because the last thing Colorado State University needed was a professor-student scandal. We were starting off the year with a football team that had the chance to make a record-breaking season, and a science department that was getting some attention for some breakthrough in micro-something-or-other.

“Oh, this one isn’t too bad,” the first girl said. “Looks like she shaved or waxed or something. Maybe the professor offered extra credit for a bare—”

I stepped around the end of the bookcase, chuckling to myself as the two girls froze, eyes wide. With my shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail and my plain white button-up shirt, I probably looked like an employee, and their conversation wasn’t exactly one for polite company.

I didn’t really want to talk to complete strangers and I didn’t care about gossip, so I just gave them an awkward smile and went to walk around them to get to the checkout.

“Is that…?” one of the girls whispered.

If she was trying to keep anyone else from hearing, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Shh.”

“Don’t elbow me.”

I rolled my eyes at the hushed bickering, knowing this was probably going to be the talk of the student body as classes started next week. Hopefully, my new job would keep me too busy to be bothered by it much. Everyone else in the store, however, seemed like they only wanted to talk about these pictures. In fact, as far as I could tell, I was the only person not currently looking at their phone.

Which explained the funny looks I got as I reached the register and set my stack of books down on the counter.

“Normally, I’d be against a man posting naked pictures of his girlfriend online, but she cheated on him with a professor just to get some job, so if he did it—and there’s no proof he did—I can’t say I blame him. I just wonder who the poor sap is,” the cashier said to her co-worker as she set down her phone and turned toward me. Her eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. “How, uh…how can I help you?”

I raised an eyebrow and gestured to the stack of books in front of me.

“Um, ID?”

I had no idea why she sounded so flustered, but I had other things on my mind—namely, the reading I needed to get done before classes started tomorrow. Professor Isenberg hadn’t asked me to do it, but I believed in being as prepared as possible, especially since most TAs had a lot more warning than twenty-four hours before the first class.

At least, if the current crowd was any indication, I wasn’t the only one getting my textbooks at the last minute.

That didn’t, however, explain the fact that I could feel people staring at me. I looked around as surreptitiously as possible as the cashier scanned my books, and it wasn’t my imagination. People really were staring. And whispering.

Did I have something on my face? On my clothes? I’d eaten pizza for lunch, but I didn’t remember dropping anything. And I always checked my shoes after using a public restroom, after that one incident in ninth grade when I’d walked around with a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

“Here.” With one hand, the cashier shoved the bag of books in my direction, and with the other, she held out my card. Unlike everyone else, she didn’t look at me at all.

“Uh, thanks.” I took my things and headed for the exit, uncomfortable as I realized all those eyes were following me there too.

As soon as I got away from the crush of people, I decided, I would find a quiet spot to stop and check myself over, figure out if I’d put my shorts on backward or something. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be anyone over by the CSU Rams sweatshirts and blankets—which made sense since it was still blazing hot outside—so I took a small detour to duck between two clothing displays.

Once I set down my bag, I fished my phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it when it buzzed with an incoming text. I smiled, wondering if it was a congratulatory text from my boyfriend.

When I saw the name on the message, my smile grew. The warmth that spread through me had nothing to do with the weather. Jason Hunn and I had been dating for nearly a year, and we were only getting more serious. He’d come to see me almost every week over the summer, and the other day I’d caught him looking at rings. Just the thought of a proposal had my insides squirming, pushing aside the anxiety I felt only moments ago.

As I read the message, however, my smile disappeared and a sick feeling formed in my stomach, forcing me to grab onto the closest table to keep from crumpling to the floor. I might not have fallen, but staying on my feet didn’t soften the blow from the words in front of me.

I don’t understand how you could do this to us. To me. I hoped both of us going for the same job wouldn’t come between us, but using me to get it? I never thought you could do something like that. But still, I was going to forgive you for passing off my work as yours. Then someone sent me this link and said you’ve been fucking Isenberg this whole time, sending him nudes and everything. You broke my heart, Amelia, and I can’t forgive you for that. We’re done.

I stared at the message, my brain refusing to process it. Any of it. How could I, when none of it made sense? Passing off Jason’s work as mine? Sleeping with Dr. Isenberg? Sending him nudes?

And then I saw the link.

My hands shook so hard I almost couldn’t tap the screen, but when I did and I saw what was there, I wished I’d dropped my phone. Broken it. Stayed ignorant just a little longer.

The first one was a full body shot. An arm under small breasts that were tipped with pale peach nipples. A thatch of dark hair between slender legs.

Full-on bush in that shot. I mean, wax or something.

The comment I’d heard in the store rang through my head, and my heart began to pound.

Blood rushed in my ears as I scrolled through nearly two dozen pictures. Some with skimpy lingerie. Some of just breasts. Some of spread legs and newly shaved skin. And some with my face very clear.

All of the images were familiar. I’d posed for them, after all. After weeks of cajoling, less than a month ago, Jason had gotten me to agree to let him take pictures of me. First in my underwear, and then naked.

All of them for his own private perusal.

And now they were online for anyone to see if they knew where to look. Based on the way people had been staring at me, people knew where to look.

What made it even worse was that, along with each photo, whether my face could be seen or not, was my name.

And the accusation that I’d earned my new TA position by having sex with my fifty-something mentor and boss, Dr. Beren Isenberg.

Heat flooded my face even as tears filled my eyes. I blindly shoved my phone back into my pocket and grabbed my books. I needed to get out of here. Away from the eyes I could still feel on me even though I was fairly well hidden in this little space. Away from the whispers I could definitely hear as they stopped being whispers and became full-blown conversations. Away from the entire store of people who’d seen me naked and thought I’d screwed my way into a job.

Books in hand, I made my way to the doors, grateful that I’d been at the school long enough to know my way around without needing to see much. A burst of heat rolled over me the moment I opened the door and practically ran into the sunshine…only to be stopped short when I slammed face-first into a very hard, very broad, chest.