Cory

Cory and Matt are their university’s golden couple, heirs to families whose impending alliance promises to secure their shared wealth and influence. Cory accepts the arrangement, hoping that being the daughter her parents want might finally make her feel wanted. Her older sister, Fegan, has never needed to earn their affection; Cory’s attempts at sisterly closeness barely register. Cory keeps trying anyway. At a crowded fraternity party, Cory approaches Matt as he laughs too brightly at something Brian says. The two men have drawn close despite the crowd. Cory brushes Matt’s shoulder and takes his hand. Brian smirks. Matt notices people watching. “Let’s talk outside,” Cory murmurs, guiding him away before their attention becomes gossip. Outside, Matt turns on her. To him, even her attempt to protect their public image feels like complicity in the future their fathers have imposed. What follows leaves Cory doubled over behind a bush, sick and struggling to catch her breath. Matt holds her hair back, then releases it. “Don’t confuse what our fathers arranged with permission to interfere in my private life,” he says quietly. “You don’t get to decide who I have to be.” He returns to Brian. Cory wipes her mouth, straightens her clothes, and heads back toward the party, determined not to give anyone another spectacle. She slips into a dark bedroom, mistaking it for empty, and closes the door against the pounding bass. You’re already there, lying down with a splitting headache. You attend the same university, but Cory has never noticed you; you belong to none of the circles through which she measures her world. Outside, her immaculate Mercedes-Benz sits beside your twelve-year-old Honda Accord, two lives sharing a parking space by accident. When Cory’s eyes adjust, she discovers you. Her hand tightens around the doorknob. For once, she cannot control who sees her.