Would You Rather: A College Romance (Campus Games Book 3)
Would You Rather (Campus Games Book 3): Chapter 1

Lights go out

“Popcorn or Ice cream?”

“Death.”

My roommate, Gabi, laughs on the other end, and I squeeze my phone in my hand. “That bad?” she asks.

“It bit,” I reply, adjusting the phone onto my shoulder so I can open the door. I haven’t even left the building yet, and I’m already dying to go home. I just want to crawl into bed and forget all about this day. “They didn’t even look at me.”

Thanks for coming in.

The fake smiles plastered on their faces were the last thing I saw before I left with another rejection and the only thing I’d see in my nightmares.

I’ve heard those four words so many times that I might as well get it tattooed on me. Day after day, audition after audition, it always ends in the same way.

A smile, a thanks, and a big, fat rejection.

“Maybe my parents are right,” I mumble, pushing through another door. My eyes briefly drift to the staircase where a group of people are descending. I shake my head, knowing there’s no way I’m tackling twelve flights of stairs in heels.

Her gasp rings so loud that, despite the rough day I’ve had, I can’t help but let out a laugh. She’s nothing if not a drama queen. “Madeline Davis.” I lift my brows at the use of my full name. Oh boy. “You did not just say that,” she replies, and I can practically visualize her disapproving headshake.

“This is my third audition this week, Gabi. I can’t keep going through this. It always ends the same way.”

“Not with that attitude,” Gabi retorts. She clears her throat and continues, “Repeat after me. I am smart.”

I roll my eyes, letting out a sigh. She does this sometimes- makes me repeat positive affirmations, and as much as I love her for it, I don’t feel very positive at the moment. “Gabi—”

“I am smart,” she repeats.

I let out a breath, knowing she won’t drop it. “I am smart,” I parrot back to her.

“I am talented.”

My lips press together. I like to think I am. I’ve loved acting ever since I was a child, and my sister and I used to put on little productions for our parents. I watched movies constantly, kept posters, and even studied scripts. But if I was talented, wouldn’t I have landed an audition by now? Even a small one? “I am talented,” I recite, having a hard time believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“I am more important than a stupid audition,” Gabi says, making me smile.

“I am more important than a stupid audition,” I repeat.

“And my best friend Gabi should kick their asses for not hiring me.”

They didn’t exactly not hire me, but with the way they hardly paid attention, I know I don’t have a chance in hell at a callback. I let out a laugh all the same, passing a few people on this floor. Where the hell is this damn elevator?

“And my best friend Gabi should kick their stuffy asses for not even looking at me when I was pouring my heart and soul into a stinking perfume commercial.”

Her laugh radiates through the phone. “That’s my girl. I like the improvising.”

“Thanks for that,” I tell her, feeling a little better than I did a few minutes ago. “I can’t wait to go home. Where are you?”

“I’m heading out of class right now,” she says and then lets out a yelp. “Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“It’s raining.” I shift my gaze to the windows, seeing the rain hitting the glass. “Hard.”

“Great.” I sigh, frustration building as I wonder how this day can get any worse. Not only did I not get the audition, but now I’m going to ruin my meticulously styled hair and carefully chosen outfit. “How far are you?” I ask her.

“I sh… home…”

“Ugh, you’re breaking up,” I sigh, knowing the bad signal will make it even harder to get a cab.

“I should be home in five,” she says again, her voice sounding slightly breathless, most likely from her running from the rain. “Want me to put on ‘Step Up’ when you get here?”

I can’t help but smirk. “That’s your favorite movie, not mine.”

“Come on,” she says. “Channing Tatum can turn any bad day around.”

I scrunch my nose in disagreement as I round the corner, and I spot the elevator. Finally. “Not really my type.”

She lets out another dramatic gasp. “Blasphemy!”

I shake my head, my lips curling in a smile. “Fine,” I relent. “I’ll be there in ten. Hopefully.”

“Kay,” she says, letting out a grunt. “Fuck, I’m drenched.”

“Take a cab,” I instruct her, not wanting her to get sick.

“No point,” she says. “I’m nearly home.”

“So stubborn,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Make sure you take a shower when you get home. You’re going to be freezing.”

“Fine, Mom.” Her little remark makes me laugh. “But you didn’t answer my question. Popcorn or ice cream?” she asks again. “Death isn’t an option, I’m afraid.”

A scoff escapes my lips. “Popcorn.”

“Good choice.”

She hangs up the call, and I shove my phone back into my bag, heading into the elevator. It’s empty, and I let out a breath of relief. Fewer stops means I’ll get out of here quicker.

Gabi was right. I am more important than a stupid audition. If they don’t want me to be the face of their perfume ad, which probably smells like cheap granny flowers anyway, then I don’t want any part of it, either.

This shouldn’t affect my career choice or make me question my talent. My parents might not be on board with the idea of me becoming an actress, but I’m not giving up. Not until it all crashes and burns, and I know I gave it my all.

The doors start to close, but before they do, a deep voice shouts. “Wait up.” I peek out of the elevator and place my foot between the doors, stopping them from closing. I look down at my white heels, a smudge mark on the side. Fuck, I’m going to have to clean those.

The doors open again, and a guy jogs into the elevator, blowing out a breath once he’s inside. He runs a hand through his wavy brown hair and glances at me. “Thank you,” he breathes out.

I let my eyes travel down his face, his stubbly beard catching my attention more than I’d like to admit. There’s something about a beard that’s so damn attractive, even if it’s a stubble like his. I press my lips together in a smile and face forward, staring at my reflection in the elevator doors.

I stand there, quietly observing as the guy leans against the wall, his arms crossed. Our eyes connect in the reflection of the elevator doors, his gaze fixed on me. I watch as his eyes roam over my form before he releases a sigh, staring back at his own reflection.

I look away and focus on getting out of here. I might have joked about Gabi’s movie choice of the night, but maybe a cheesy rom-com and a big bowl of buttery popcorn are exactly what I need to help me forget about how my dreams are slowly slipping through my fingertips.

Ten more minutes, I think to myself. Ten more minutes, and I’ll be able to relax.

And that’s when the elevator stops, and the lights go out.