“And you can come right home.”
I nod. “I know.”
“I love yousomuch,” she says, holding my face in her hands. Leaning onto her toes, she presses her lips to my cheek. “And I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t be proud yet,” I say. “I haven’t made it through my first term yet. Hell, I haven’t even made it through my first day.”
“You will,” she says with a warm grin.
Just then, our driver appears with my luggage, and I wave my mother goodbye. She disappears down the hallway, and I take my suitcases under each arm.
Reentering the room and suddenly being alone with this new stranger is awkward for a moment.
“Fancy,” Declan says as he watches me hoist my Louis Vuitton luggage onto the small bed.
“Uh, thanks,” I mutter.
Chancing a glance back at the boy sitting on the bed, I notice that Declan is wearing loose dark jeans that are frayed at the edges, with ink stains around the pockets, much like the charcoal on his hand. His feet are bare, and his shirt is unbuttoned and hanging open, revealing a tight-fitting white tee underneath.
“I’m going outside for a smoke. Wanna join me?” he asks after standing with a loud breath.
“I don’t smoke,” I reply over my shoulder.
“It’s never too late to start,” he jokes, and I smile to myself as I unzip my first suitcase.
As my fingers linger over the perfectly packed clothes and toiletries, I consider turning him down again. But that’s something the old Colin would do.
And I’m ready to be thenewColin.
“Fuck it,” I say. “Let’s go.”
Declan has a wide, handsome smile as he claps a dirty hand on my back and leads me toward the door. He kicks it shut behind him but keeps the hand there as we walk down the hallway. He’s nearly the same height as I am, and I’m the tallest person in my family. In fact, now that I’m glancing sideways at him, I realize he might actually be a bit taller.
Two minutes later, we’re standing across from each other in the small outdoor space between buildings where the grass and weeds have sprouted between the cracks of the stones and pavement on the ground. And I’m coughing so hard it feels like my lungs might actually propel themselves from my body.
“Okay, maybe itistoo late to start,” Declan says with a laugh as he pats my back and takes the cigarette from my fingers.
My eyes are watering, and I can feel people looking at me. Seasoned, calm smokers who probably trained their lungs to handle the toxic smoke when they were young teens, not fully grown.
“Easy, Shelby,” Declan says, rubbing my back. “Don’t die on me. That’s not how I want to start my term.”
“I’m fine,” I wheeze before coughing again.
When I can finally stand upright and get a good look at the man leaning against the brick building with a cigarette in his hand, I resist the urge to run away out of embarrassment.
“So what’s your story, Shelby?” he asks as he takes a puff.
“It’s Colin,” I reply. I hate being called by my last name, mainly because it reminds me of my father.
“Sorry,” he says, putting up his hands. “What’s your story, Colin?”
“My story?”
“Yeah, what is a proper, rich young Brit like yourself doing in these halls and sharing a room with a commoner like me?”
His jet-black hair hangs messily forward before he uses his free hand to brush it out of his face. He carries himself with such confidence it makes my chest ache with longing. I’d kill to be half as assured.
“You’re not a commoner,” I say, shaking my head.
