“I’ve already spoken with Damien. We haven’t yet signed any new contracts with makeup and fashion houses, and he told me there are plenty of other models who can step in to the shoots or runway shows that I’m booked for during the next few months.”
Serena could have sworn everything in the room went still, even the tiny molecules of dust floating in the air. Completely, perfectly still, as if time had frozen.
“You went behind my back and talked to your agent about this?” Every word Genevieve spoke was pure, seething fury. “How dare you?”
Serena had so badly wanted to be honest with her mother and show her the college applications, rather than secretly filling them out online. She wished she could have shared her excitement when the acceptance email had come. Probationary acceptance. Since she hadn’t ever been to any regular school, but had tested really high and written several long essays specifically for placement in the English Department, Stanford had agreed to admit her for the fall quarter with “Special Registration” status. Which meant they had given her one quarter to impress the heck out of the admissions committee with phenomenal grades and recommendations from her professors. If she did that, she’d be accepted as a permanent student.
Serena wasn’t proud that she’d kept the news from her mother for so long, but she’d been so afraid that it would all come crashing down otherwise. All her life, it had only been the two of them. She’d never known her father—when he’d found out her mother was pregnant, he’d immediately split, and had passed away a few years later. Even as a little girl, Serena had realized that her mother’s smiles, her praise, her hugs only came when she was pleased with a job Serena had done well, or when good news came that she’d booked an important shoot or runway show. She’d done everything she could to make Genevieve happy.
And maybe she could have continued like that were it not for the fact that Serena’s own dreams had begun to diverge more and more from her mother’s. Books, not fashion shows. Libraries, not movies. Quiet nights devouring a story by one of her favorite authors, not splashy Hollywood parties.
Serena wanted, more than anything, to live a life that she was passionately excited about.
She wanted to wake up each morning feeling exhilarated.
She wanted to laugh and love and feel.
“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt—”
“When?” Her mother had risen from her seat and stalked toward Serena, standing four inches taller in her heels. “When did you do this?”
“February is when I learned that I was accepted, but I applied in the fall.”
“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Genevieve raked Serena from head to toe with a harsh look. “Secretly applying to college. Secretly accepting a spot there. Secretly making all of the arrangements to leave me behind completely. And after everything I’ve sacrificed to help you become a star.”
Genevieve’s hand rose as if to slap her, and Serena was already flinching when her mother lowered it. But something raw and icky had her wondering if the reason the slap hadn’t come was less because her mother had an issue with hitting her...and more that she didn’t want to risk marring Serena’s money-making face before tomorrow’s shoot.
“I remember what it was like to be a teenager wanting to rebel against my mother,” Genevieve said in a voice that was suddenly too calm. Too dismissive. “I suppose I should have seen this coming.”
It was almost worse to have her mother dismiss her dreams so thoroughly that she was no longer even fighting with her about it.
“You’ll soon realize how crazy you’re being.” Genevieve’s eyes were cold. Certain. “I have no doubt that you’ll be back. Soon. Especially when you realize that you will never, ever fit in with the other students. Do you really believe that you will be able to walk around on campus like a normal student would?”
It was as if she had pointed a laser straight at the heart of Serena’s biggest fear. Not just that she wouldn’t be able to hack a full load of classes and difficult tests, but that she wouldn’t fit in with the other freshmen. She hadn’t ever had a group of girlfriends, not when she’d constantly been on planes with only her mother as a companion. Serena was utterly terrified that she would always be a freak and that she’d never be able to live a normal life outside of the cameras and the spotlight.
But Serena’s dreams had become even bigger than her terror, so big that she was finally willing to risk everything to take a chance on them.
Genevieve was almost out of the room when she turned back to Serena, eyes narrowed as if some horrible new thought had just occurred to her. “Is this about a boy?”
“No. Of course not. When would I even have met anyone?” How could I when you keep me under lock and key?
Her mother had that look in her eyes, the one that always glittered when she talked about how all men were scum, that they could only be trusted to take and use and hurt.
“If I find out that you’re tossing away everything I’ve given you for some boy who only wants to f**k you and forget you,” her mother said in a low, menacing voice, “it will be the ultimate betrayal. And I will never, ever forgive you.”
But there had never been any boy, or any man, who had stirred Serena up inside. She’d heard other models giggle about their boyfriends, their lovers, but the truth was she’d not only never been kissed, she’d never longed for a kiss from any of the boys she’d known, either.
“There’s no one,” Serena promised. “I’m going to college for me.”
For the first time in her life, she was doing something entirely for herself. And even when her mother slammed the bedroom door of their hotel suite in her face, Serena vowed to keep boldly sticking to her guns. No matter what obstacles might pop up along the way.
And all the while, Serena would also never give up hope that her mother would forgive her…so that they could finally have a loving relationship that didn’t have anything to do with business.
* * *
The music streaming out of the open dorm windows drew Serena out of her memories of the conversation with her mother and back to campus. When Serena had first moved in to the three-story building, she had expected everyone else at Stanford to be a bookworm like she was. Only to find that most other students’ bookshelves held everything but books—makeup, magazines, and a surprising number of already empty bottles of alcohol.