I meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”
I nod and turn to face the quad.
A wave of nervous energy washes over me, a numbness that pricks its way through every limb. Historic buildings tower over me, their weathered stone architecture a reminder of this university’s age. I can’t help but stare in awe, my gaze moving from one end of the campus to the other. The grounds are perfectly manicured, with lush green lawns and flower beds.
It’s beautiful, even more so than what I saw online. And suddenly, I’m reminded of how out of place I am here. The unfamiliar opulence reflects the fact that I’m from a different world. I don’t come from a big, happy family or have a rich daddy to fund all my needs. While my peers have been rocking Prada and Fendi since infancy, I’ve learned to use my creativity to upcyclevintageclothing. No one bought my way into this school, and I damn sure don’t have a legacy that ties me to this place.
I shake away those thoughts, square my shoulders, and inch toward the central part of campus. My two suitcases and duffel bag weigh me down, but I press on, ignoring the pain in my arms and the stares from the students passing by. They probably had help from loving family members while moving into their dorms at the beginning of the school year.
I focus on the path ahead, doing my best to navigate the crowded sidewalk. Every few seconds, I have to dodge someone who isn’t paying attention. And each time I do, I stumble, nearly dropping my bags in the process.
After a while, I give up trying to avoid them, bumping into people who turn to give me nasty looks. I’m not winning any friends yet, but I like it this way. The fewer people I have to talk to, the better. The strap of my duffel bag digs into my shoulders, and the broken wheel of one of my old suitcases scrapes against the concrete.
And as my luck would have it, others notice, too. Their faces tell me what I already know… that I’m not welcome here. It’s in the way they look at me. How their eyes linger just a second too long. And maybe I don’t. I don’t know what it feels like to live with an excess of money instead of bruises. To not be broken.
I ignore them because, frankly, I’ve got enough on my plate to worry about. But one particular group of people catches my eye. Students are in a circle near the steps of the main building. The girls are all smiles, their eyes focused on the boys standing in front of them.
They’re wearing navy blue jackets like a badge of honor, the hockey team’s logo stitched on the back. That red and light blue armored knight is easily noticed. SKU is known for its D1-level sports teams, but the hockey team is their pride and joy. Given that they’ve won the last four championships, it makes sense. I only know that because Gary, along with many of the people in this town, sports the team’s jerseys as if they’re gods. The fandom here is almost cult-like, and I’m the odd woman out when it comes to how ritualistic the people of this town are when the season rolls around.
There’s an air of authority around the athletes, and it’s clear they command respect. It’s evident not just from the way theycarry themselves but also from how everyone seems to hang on to their every word. I can’t say that I blame them. They’re fine as hell—too fine, if you ask me. It’s apparent that the three of them are friends, but they couldn’t seem more different.
The blond guy is clearly the ladies’ man of the group. His cockiness is evident in every movement, from the way he leans casually against the railing to the confident tilt of his head. He’s got that classic look, a mix of polished elegance and raw masculinity. His olive-toned skin glows in the sunlight, and his perfectly styled hair highlights the sharp angles of his chiseled jaw. He’s old money meets magazine cover sex symbol, but it fits him.
I’d bet everything I own—not that I own much—that he’s the king of this campus. Or one of them, at least. The way he engages with the girls—it’s all calculated, designed to draw them in and keep them hooked.
And it’s working. They lean in closer, their eyes wide with desire, laughing at his jokes—probably even the ones they don’t find funny. It’s as if they’re under a spell. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and from the looks of it, he’s loving every minute of it.
I slide my gaze to another—an absolute mountain of a man—and can’t help but focus on how beautiful he is with his strong jaw and smooth, tawny brown skin. His long, black hair is in a single braid that falls over his broad shoulder. But it’s the way his T-shirt hugs his thick, muscular frame under that jacket that truly holds my attention.
In addition to his powerful arms and a wide chest, there’s something about his presence that does it for me, a quiet intensity that sets him apart. Despite his commanding physique, he doesn’t seem as involved as his friend. He’s obviously utterly uninterested in the poor girl trying to get his attention. His eyes focus on his phone, his expression one of mild boredom.
The girl finally moves away, but he doesn’t glance up. It’s as if he’s in his own world, unaffected by the attention and happy to let his friend be in the limelight. He’s not here to impress anyone, and from what it seems to me, he doesn’t need to.
And then my eyes fall on the last guy, and my heart stops.
It’s him…
The only boy I’ve ever connected with… aside from Evan.
When my mother first attempted to take her life, in the psychiatric ward,thatboy was there. We were alike or, at the very least, we bonded over the shared trauma of loving someone through their mental demons. He was a few years older and my first crush.
He was kind when the world was cruel and got me when everyone else failed, when nothing felt right in the world. He made me laugh and made sure I ate. When Gary caused a scene, he shielded me. Mature beyond his years, he made dealing with my mother’s attempt easier to stomach. New emotions grew in me like flowers in a barren land.
But it all ended when Gary forced Momma to check out and closed that door forever. Sometimes, I wish she would have fought harder to stay the course with her therapy. Maybe then I wouldn’t be doing life without her.
It’s been years, and if I’m honest, I never expected to see him again. We were young and had no way of keeping in contact. We weren’t old enough for emails back then, and Gary and Momma could never seem to keep a landline on at home.
So that was it, and I often wondered what became of him.
Everest.
My skepticism has been at an all-time high since I received the scholarship. Knowing someone here makes me feel less alone going into this new journey. Maybe things won’t be so insufferable after all.
He stands out from the rest. His stance is rigid, his shoulders tense as he stares out at the crowd. Then, his gaze shifts, and suddenly, he’s looking right at me.
His eyes trail the length of my frame before meeting mine again. A small smile meets my lips as I stop to give him a half wave that immediately falters when he doesn’t return the sentiment. He only stares at me coldly—angrily, I might even say.
