I started the next day, too excited to wait, but…

The building was too big.

L’Institut de Parfumerie Élite was a French academy in the States, and one of the biggest.

I stood on the marble steps of L’Institut de Parfumerie Élite at 7:42 a.m., clutching the canvas bag Kross had bought me the night before he dropped me off. It still smelled faintly of him—cedar and cold air and something darker I never had a name for. The scent was the only thing keeping my knees from folding.

Inside, the lobby soared three storeys high. Chandeliers dripped light like liquid gold. Students glided past in cashmere coats and designer...