Page 35 of She Haunts Me Still

Saskia emerges a few moments later, tucking her script into her bag. Her expression hardens when she notices Mallory, and she turns abruptly in the other direction.

“Not this time,” Mallory says, immediately at her heels. She lunges, fingers closing around Saskia’s upper arm. Saskia whirls unexpectedly, and they practically collide in a fit of hair and limbs.

“What do youwant?” Saskia snaps.

“Me?” Mallory echoes. “You’ve been spying on me for days! What doyouwant?”

“I already told you. I want you to leave mealone.”

Mallory’s brain muddles in confusion. “But I haven’t—I haven’t done anything to you.”

Saskia just huffs a bitter laugh.

“You’ve been on campus since the read-through,” Mallory accuses. “Why did you tell everyone you weren’t?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re my understudy,” Mallory fires back. “That makes you my business.”

Saskia holds her stare, a stony challenge simmering in her amber-colored eyes. In the quiet, Mallory can’t help but register the spill of freckles across her nose, the curve of her absurdly long lashes. The way they’re standing far closer than she intended, wrapping her in the dark scent of Saskia’s perfume. Magnolias and violets, amber and vanilla. Mallory matches her icy glare and pretends not to notice.

“Aren’t you glad I wasn’t around?” Saskia finally says, voice low and taunting. “The role was all yours for a while. Now you have to share.”

Her words needle, poking at Mallory’s fear of losing the one thing that keeps her tethered, as though Saskia slipped directly into her thoughts, peeling back the layers of her insecurity in a single breath. Mallory steadies herself, refusing to let Saskia catch on.

“Why,” Mallory presses, “did you call me Lily earlier?”

At that, Saskia’s face pales. “You just…” Saskia’s gaze trails the length of her, focus snagging on Mallory’s short skirt, her exposed collarbone, before finally returning to her face. “You look like someone I know, is all. But it was a mistake.”

“Wait,” Mallory says as Saskia turns to leave. She softens her voice. “What do you mean?”

“I really need to go.”

“Saskia—”

“Look,” Saskia says, turning back. “I don’t want your role, okay? I don’t even want tobehere. I had a whole plan after high school to move to California, but it all went to shit for reasons I don’t care to get into. I got a letter inviting me to apply to Shore’s theater program, and it was a Hail Mary. A last-ditch effort to get my life together. That’s all I want. So just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Alright?”

Mallory studies her, thoughts racing until they land on—

“Wait,” she says. “You got a letter inviting you to apply? I did, too.”

Saskia smirks. “Guess we’re not very special, are we?”

“But—”

“Good night, Juliet.”

With that, Saskia disappears between a smattering of trees, leaving Mallory standing beneath a streetlamp, holding all her questions alone.

Thorne Hall rests at the top of a hill toward the eastern edge of Shore’s property. The stone-fronted structure houses only seniors, its façade punctuated with ribbons of ivy and arched gothic windows. With only two floors, Thorne isn’t as big as other dorms, but the rooms on the bottom level have additional outdoor entrances, leading to patios draped in the allure of privacy.

And, according to one of their conversations in the dressing room, Ezra lives on the rear corner of the first floor.

He answers almost immediately after Mallory knocks, dressed more casually than she’s ever seen him. Gray sweatpants. Black long-sleeved shirt. Hair tousled like he’s been lying in bed. His skin is paler than normal, and there’s a smear of dried blood beneath his nose.

“Jules,” Ezra says, surprise flickering across his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?”