Mistaken Twin
Brielle
“East Brooke College, right?”
The Uber driver’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced at my phone to check the location—yeah, we’d arrived.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, grabbing my bag.
“No problem. Have a good one.”
The app chimed — ‘Trip Completed: $18.45 charged to your card.’
I pulled my suitcase from the trunk and looked up at the massive iron gate with gold letters that spelled out East Brooke College.
The place I’d dreamed about since high school. The school for the rich, the heirs, and the already-famous.
The white marble pillars gleamed under the morning sun, and a Latin phrase carved across the arch mocked my ignorance. I didn’t understand a word of it, but it sounded fancy enough to belong here. The air smelled like fresh flowers and expensive perfume—so different from the earthy scent of home.
It still felt unreal that I’d made it here.
It took me two years of saving, applying, and begging my dad to sell part of our farmland just to afford this place.
He’d told me, “If you want a better life, go and make it happen. My pride will follow you, Bri.”
So here I was—carrying every ounce of his hope in my suitcase.
The handle dug into my palm as I dragged it across the path, but my heart was light. I stopped in front of a small office labeled Residence Hall. Inside, a middle-aged woman with reading glasses looked up and smiled.
“Brielle Summers, right? Girls’ dorm, second floor, room 214.”
She handed me a shiny gold key with a little red feather keychain dangling from it.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice small but steady.
The hallway smelled like new paint and lavender cleaner. Laughter echoed off the walls, the sound of new beginnings. Halfway down the hall, a tap on my shoulder made me turn.
“Hey, you’re new, right?”
A girl with shoulder-length auburn hair and a sunshine smile stood there.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling back. “Brielle.”
“Avery. Business major, third year.” She offered her hand. “Welcome to East Brooke, Brielle. You’re gonna love it here.”
She had the kind of effortless confidence I’d only seen in people who belonged. For a second, I wished I had that too.
After a bit of small talk, I excused myself and headed to my room. The place was simple but neat—a single bed, a desk, and a big window overlooking the garden where a group of guys were roughhousing on the grass.
I dropped my bags and flopped onto the bed. That’s when I heard it—
A soft swish near the door.
An envelope.
Curiosity tugged at me. I opened it and found a black card with gold lettering.
Welcome to East Brooke!
Join us at the Freshman Night Party at Club Nocte — 8 PM tonight.
Dress code: anything but see-through. If you’re brave enough, wear nothing at all.
Password: I’m a freshman begging for trouble.
A laugh slipped out of me. The “password” part looked like someone had scribbled it last minute.
I glanced at the clock — 5:15 PM.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to show up. A chance to meet new people. To fit in.
**
By 7:50, I was standing in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself I didn’t look like an idiot. The white off-shoulder dress hugged my frame just right—simple, but not boring. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders.
As I stepped out of the dorm, a familiar voice called out, “Brielle! Over here!”
Avery stood by the curb, looking like she’d walked straight out of a magazine cover—red lipstick, heels that could kill, and confidence to match.
“Oh my God, you look adorable!” she squealed. “Come on, I already ordered us a cab.”
The ride to Club Nocte took fifteen minutes. Neon lights washed over the car windows—blue, pink, gold—and the bass from the club pulsed like a heartbeat.
Inside, it was chaos in the best way. Laughter, glitter, sweat, and perfume filled the air. Upperclassmen were dancing, taking selfies, pretending this night would define the rest of their lives.
I tried to relax, to blend in. Avery nudged me toward the bar.
“Drink?” she offered.
I shook my head immediately. “My dad would kill me if I got drunk on my first night.”
She laughed. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”
An hour later, my bladder was screaming for mercy. I decided to hit the restroom and take a short break. The music was getting louder by the minute, and honestly, I was starting to regret coming.
When I stepped out, the club felt even darker than before. The lights flashed in quick bursts—blue, red, then violet—painting the room in dizzying colors. People were laughing, shouting, bumping into one another. For a second, I had to stop just to catch my breath.
I turned toward the lounge area, thinking it might be quieter there. That’s when I noticed him.
A guy stood by the private section, swaying slightly, one hand clutching a half-empty beer bottle. The strobe lights made it hard to see his face clearly—sharp jawline, dark messy hair, tall. He looked drunk, maybe too drunk to even know where he was.
Before I could step aside, his gaze locked on me.
“Baby…” he slurred, taking an unsteady step forward. “You came back.”
My heart jumped. I froze, unsure what to say.
He came closer—too close—and before I could react, he grabbed my arm, pulling me in. His lips crashed against mine.
For a second, I didn’t even move—shock rooted me to the floor. Then my brain caught up, and instinct took over.
My palm flew before I could think. The sharp crack of my slap echoed through the room.
The sound sliced through the music. Heads turned. Even the DJ paused for a split second.
“What the hell?!” I gasped, pushing him away. “Don’t touch me!”
The guy blinked, the daze in his eyes replaced by something darker—sharper. He wasn’t stumbling anymore. He straightened, towering over me, his expression cold and dangerous.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“Oh, shit. She just slapped Seth Donovan.”
I froze. Seth… who?
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. The flush on his cheek made his gray eyes look even colder.
“Did you just slap me?” he asked quietly. His tone wasn’t drunk anymore—it was deadly calm.
“You kissed me,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “Without asking.”
Something flickered behind his eyes—anger, amusement, maybe both.
“Too bad your mouth isn’t as fast as your hand,” he muttered, taking a step closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with expensive cologne.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The air around him felt heavier somehow, like everyone nearby was afraid to even breathe.
“I’ll remember your face, sweetheart,” he said softly, leaning in just enough for me to hear over the music. “And I don’t forget things that piss me off.”
Avery suddenly appeared beside me, gripping my wrist. “Brielle—come on!”
She dragged me out of there. My legs barely moved on their own.
By the time we reached the parking lot, my hands were shaking. The night air stung against my skin.
“Avery,” I whispered, “who is he?”
Her face was pale. “You just slapped Seth Donovan. The most dangerous guy on campus.”
I swallowed hard. “Am I going to get in trouble?”
She didn’t look at me when she answered. “Seth Donovan doesn’t let things slide.”
That night, I realized I’d just made an enemy—the most dangerous one in all of East Brooke College.
