Page 3 of Her Wedding Night

“Got it.” I snatch the paper she hands over and dash to the photocopier, making a copy of the photo.

Then I scrawl a note at the top of the paper.

Dr. Adler,

If I disappear, find this man.

Lucy Martin

I stare at it.What are you doing, Lucy?

I can’t give that to my professor.

So I fold it in half, then in half again, and then wrap that in another piece of paper, and write on the front of that,From Lucy Martin, for safekeeping. Don’t open just yet.

And then, before I soften and protect an absolute stranger for misguided politeness reasons, I shove it in Dr. Adler’s mail cubby.

On my way back to the dorm, I look for the guy everywhere, but there’s no sign of him. My heart pounds in my chest and I clutch my keys in my fist until I’m safely behind my dorm room door.

Who is this guy?

What does he want with me?

A spark of inspiration hits me, and I carefully take a close-up photo of the image in good light, then upload that to my computer.

But when I do a reverse image search, I get nothing. Whoever my stalker is, his face isn’t on the internet.

And I’m back to being confused.

On Friday, Ethan texts me twice, asking if he can pick me up. But I don’t want him to think this is a date. I’m going to a frat party by myself, that’s it.

I arrive at the marina by myself, on foot, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with Chucks on my feet and awe’re just friends but thanks for the inviteexpression on my face.

White lights twinkle off every line of the yacht, and water laps at the side of the dock as I climb aboard, following the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses in the air.

I knew some of my classmates were rich, but I didn’t know any of them weremy parents have a yachtrich.

And as I climb up to the next deck and follow the party sounds, it gets even better. Or worse, depending on the viewpoint. This yacht is big enough to have a pool.

A pool. On a boat!

I recognize Hannah, Gracie, and Alyssa. They’re all wearing matching diaphanous bikini cover-ups in various shades of pastel colours. Pink, green, peach.

I didn't get the memo.

I'm wearing a bright blue math equation t-shirt. And I didn’t bring a bathing suit.

“There’s my something blue,” Ethan says, coming up beside me from out of nowhere.

“What?” I spin around, confused.

He pushes a red Solo cup into my hand. “This way to the bar.”

“Ummm…” I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

There’s a pitcher of something fizzy and pink on the bar, but there’s also beer and wine and soda. It’s self-serve, so I dodge the offer of whatever is in the pitcher and go for a weak rum and Coke that I pour myself.

Ethan watches me take a big sip of it. He’s more confident tonight than he usually is. I guess he’s a party animal.