My new friend grinned. “Only a little. Listen, some of us took Xander for undergrad and used to get together right after crits to drink our sorrows away. You game for a bit of a laugh after the first one?”

“Yeah, sounds good. The critiques sound pretty scary.”

Ilani followed me out of the main lobby into the rare British sunshine. “They are. He's usually not satisfied unless at least one person cries.”

My eyes widened, and I swallowed hard, resolute not to be the crying student. “Ouch.”

“It's his way, I guess.” Ilani shrugged. “Anyway. Good to meet you, Abbie. See you next week.”

“Yeah you too.” I smiled encouragingly, even though my stomach pitched at the thought of those crits.

As I turned, a chill skittered over my spine, but it wasn’t cooler air; it was more of a warning. Almost like I could feel a gaze on me.

You’re being paranoid, who would be watching you… besides the obvious.

No. I had to stop. Easton was at home in DC. He wasn’t in London. That was the fear talking. That was the little part of me that listened to my family, the part of me that had stayed with Easton. It was the part afraid of change, of greatness. The part of my brain that would have done the safe thing and gone to law school.

If I was going to make it here, if I was going to have my dream, I was going to have to get used to kicking that part of my psyche in the nads at every opportunity.

I wasn’t going back to fear. Fear had never made me happy. So I took a deep breath, forced my mind to calm down, and made my brain work. Easton was thousands of miles away. I was afraid of failing, but the only way to truly fail was to not try.

So get off your ass and do this.

As I headed down the cobblestone steps of the Ealing campus and made my way to the bus stop, I let my lens be my eyes. The excitement of the new city fueled my blood. The first step to living my dream was already in motion.

5

Abbie…

I hovered outside Dr. Kaufman's office. Easton might be a lot of things, but he did have one smart idea.

In his quest to win me back, or whatever the hell that was, he'd mentioned therapy. And considering that there was still that weak, small part of me that had almost caved and gone back to him, I figured I needed plenty of it.

The problem, now that I was here, was facing the reality of speaking my truth. I was terrified. What if she judged me? Worse, what if she told me that I should go back to Easton? Or that I should work it out and say I was sorry?