Jan. Week 3: A Long Weekend-Movies--Leah rejects Mr. Howard's advances...(Tenure: -25, Luck:+15)

Leah made a face that was half-smile, half-wince, as if she’d just gotten a whiff of strong ammonia.

“Mr. Howard, I really can’t,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, almost playful, so that anyone passing by would assume this was professional banter and not a thinly veiled threat. “Besides, I’m supposed to be meeting my fiancé in about sixty seconds.” She made a show of glancing at her phone, as if timing herself for a very urgent, very important engagement.

He took a step closer, speaking quietly, his breath tinged with something like expensive mouthwash and overconfidence.

“Now, Miss Williams, you and I both know that you can be a little more…flexible than that. Especially when you have a knack for getting yourself into these tricky situations.” His finger traced the rim of a large, promotional popcorn bucket as he spoke, his eyes not leaving her face. “It would be a shame—and I mean a real, tragic, Greek-level shame—if something were to come up at school that made your life even more complicated.”

She let the threat hang in the air, suspended like a noose, but kept her feet planted. “You really think you’re the only one with leverage?” she said, letting him hear the steel in her voice. “There are cameras everywhere in this place and I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m not calling the cops is because I’m a much nicer person than you.” She didn’t mean it, not really; the idea of getting Howard in trouble electrified her and terrified her in equal measure. He grinned as if she’d told a joke only the two of them could understand.

“You’re a quick learner. But let’s not pretend you haven’t—on occasion—enjoyed how dangerous all of this is.” He straightened, the small power-play finished for now, and flicked his eyes toward the bathrooms. “Don’t make me chase you down.”

Leah almost gagged, but she managed a practiced, professional smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” she said, her tone making ‘sir’ sound like a medieval insult. She spun on her heel and made her way into the women’s restroom, hands trembling as she locked herself in a stall. For a moment, she just sat on the toilet, fully clothed, staring at the back of the stall door. Her breathing was shallow and rapid but she **** herself to count backwards from fifty, the way her therapist used to make her do.

When she finally emerged, Howard was gone—left only a ghost behind, haunting the sound of the hand dryers and the dull, musky air. She looked at her reflection, which was both her and not her—a woman simultaneously terrified and thrillingly alive.

She steeled herself and strode back toward the darkened theater, the wild pattern of sticky carpet cushioning her steps. Daniel was waiting in their row, already elbow-deep in popcorn. He had that dumb, adorable look on his face—a puppy waiting for a treat, oblivious to the wolves outside.