Chapter One
STELLA
Before I can reach into my bag for the key to my new dorm room, I notice the door is unlocked. Great. Brooke is home. Brooke is my roommate—not by choice, mind you. No, the person I’m supposed to be living with my freshman year at Northwestern University is my best friend, Lily, but circumstances being as they are—like a water main break in our real dorm building—I’m forced to live with an unfriendly upperclassman named Brooke. The only good part is I have my own bedroom, but we share a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a small sitting area. In Brooke’s defense, she wasn’t supposed to have a roommate this semester. She paid extra to live alone, but due to the accidental flooding of my dormitory, we’re stuck with each other. In total, there were about seventy-five of us who were displaced “until further notice.” Ugh.
Since Brooke is… not the nicest person, I’ve decided avoiding her as much as possible is the way to get through my time here. As I tiptoe into my room to gather up my things to shower, I hear the shower already running. Damn. I plop my tired body down into my desk chair to wait for my turn. At least I don’t have to share a bathroom with an entire floor. See? I can think positively about my situation.
As soon as the shower shuts off, I hear voices––as in more than one voice. One of which sounds male. Oh, jeez, Brooke’s got a guy there? In the shower with her?I don’t want to know. I jump up from my seat to close my bedroom door before they can see that I’m home, but I don’t get it shut in time. I catch Brooke backing out of the bathroom, attached at the mouth to a guy. It’s all swirling tongues and moaning.
Bradley was right, that is gross.
It’s then that I hear the guy say, “Come on, Brooke, let’s go get dirty again.”
I want to roll my eyes at the play of words, but I can’t because I know that voice. I slowly look as Brooke giggles. The man and I make eye contact. He stops moving. I stop moving. There’s silence. My heart stops.
“Stella? What the hell are you doing here?”
Standing in the doorway of my dorm bedroom, I see my boyfriend of one year half naked. I close my eyes tightly, hoping that when I open them, this bad dream will end. Opening them up again, I realize it’s no dream. Bad or no. I’m not sure where it comes from because what I say next is so not me. “Me? What the heck are you doing here, Bradley? No. Wait. I know what you’re doing. You’ve got your tongue down my roommate’s throat. No need to explain. Now I know why you wanted towait.” I choke on my last words.
Bradley turns to my new roomie and asks angrily, “What’s Stella doing here, Brooke?”
“What do you mean? I just met her. She’s my temporary roommate. I told you that already,” Brooke sputters as she rolls her eyes.
“I thought you said her name wasStephanie. You also said she was going to be gone all day.”
“Stella, Stephanie, what’s the dif? I told you she was some fat freshman girl. What do I care?” spits Brooke.
I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to make the scene before me disappear. When I open them again, I see Bradley glaring daggers at Brooke. It’s at this moment when I think,Run. Run, Stella, run.I pull my bedroom door open the rest of the way and launch myself into our tiny kitchen. From there, I jerk the front door open and peer to the right at the elevators, then left at the door to the stairwell. I choose left. No way am I waiting around for an elevator. The sooner I can get the heck out of here, the sooner I can cry.Just don’t cry yet. Not yet.
Moving as fast as my short legs will take me, I race toward the stairs. I can hear Bradley yelling for Brooke to help him find his pants. It’s my chance to get a head start. I rush down the stairs, and as soon as I make it past the floor below, the tears start to fall. It’s blurring my vision. I can barely see where I’m going. My goal is to get to the first-floor lobby before Bradley can catch up to me. Then, when I get to the lobby, I can run outside and hide in the bushes or something.
Honestly, I’ve got no real plan. Or stamina. This is one time in my life when I wished I exercised. The concrete steps are steep and long, so getting to the bottom from the fourth floor takes me too much time. As I descend, I mutter words to myself like, “lying, cheating bastard, asshole, and douchebag.” What was he doing with me if he’s attracted to someone like Brooke? We couldn't be more different. I’m short, chubby, and blonde. She’s tall, thin, and a brunette. She’s model gorgeous. I’m… well, I’m not.
I’m nearly to the lobby level when I hear Bradley yell, “Stellaaaa! Stellaaaa!”
Are you freaking kidding me? The movie calledA Street Car Name Desireflashes through my head. There are times I really hate my name. Take now, for example. No, right now I really hate my parents.
I can’t believe all of these things are going through my head. My mind is a blur of random messages, and I can’t see because tears are flowing like crazy. As I tug open the lobby door, I hear Bradley’s voice again; he’s getting closer. I race through the door, looking back to make sure I can still get away from him, when I hit a brick wall.
Okay, it’s not literally a brick wall, but it feels like one. I hit so hard that I bounce back a little. Before I fall ass over tit, big arms wrap around me, keeping me upright. The next thing I know, those arms pull me in until I’m pressed against an enormous body. His arms hug around me in a warm cocoon. My thoughts are muddled now, and the only thing I know is that it feels good to be against this person. I raise my arms and wrap them around his waist as I bury my face into his purple shirt. He’s so big that my hands don’t meet around his back, so I just clutch onto his clothes. He smells so good, like soap and man.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“Stella, listen, it’s not what you think,” Bradley exclaims from behind me.
I feel myself stiffen. Crap, he’s caught up to me. I start to pull away from the warm embrace to escape Bradley once more, but the arms hold tighter. I don’t fight it. It’s strange, but I feel safe. Protected.
Panting, Bradley pleads, “Stella, it wasn’t what you think. It was just a one-time thing. It meant nothing. You know you’re the only person I care about.”
I’m still shedding tears and snot, some of which has ended up on this poor guy’s shirt. It’s going to be soaked when this is over. As I press my face harder into his solid pectoral muscles, I hear a rich voice whisper above me, “Has this guy hurt you?” It’s so deep, I can feel the vibrations from his body run through mine.
I nod.
“Has he hit you or hurt you physically?” the big guy asks.
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper.
“What do you want me to do here?” he asks in a soft voice in my ear.
