“Dealing with my brooding bullshit was enjoyable?”
“Helping you figure out what you wanted to study and what you could do with it was enjoyable. Knowing I made a difference in your life was enjoyable. I’m not saying you don’t make a difference, too, but it didn’t feed my soul like it fed yours. You showed me that.”
I walk over and pull her up for a hug. “Then I guess we’re even.”
She lays her head on my chest, right over my heart. “Even.”
Quinn’s affectionate by nature. I learned that quickly and thoroughly when I thought she was also interested in me freshman year, only to find out that she started seeing a girl who lived on her hall. But it doesn’t matter that her hugging me or kissing my cheek or twining our arms together as we walk is platonic, my heart kicks up every time. She probably thinks I have a heart condition after all these years.
“Want to blow off unpacking and go grab some food?” she asks.
I lean back from the hug to look down at her. “Absolutely, I do. Let's reintroduce you to your city.”
Quinn bounces on her toes, all joy and excitement like the first day I met her. And just like then, I let her drag me along, out of our apartment and into the city.
Fourteen years later, and I’d still follow this girl anywhere.
5
COLTON
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
What the fuckam I doing here?
I look at the students filing into the small auditorium. They drop into seats with their designer clothes and thousand dollar laptops, talking to each other without a care in the world.
I can’t relate to these people any more than I could relate to the people back home who cared more about the Mountaineers’ football team than what they could learn if they actually went to the team’s college.
I’d been ready to leave Grand Creek behind me when I graduated high school. Everyone there fell into two categories. The first group acted like I thought I was better than them because I was going to college. And the second? They put me on a pedestal—which was worse. The smart kid who was getting out against all odds; they pinned me with their hopes and dreams but never took the time to know me. An ideal instead of a human being.
But I had the promise of escape and the hope that I’d find my people in college. A hope that’s quickly vanishing as I listen to the guy behind me bitch about his parents because they wouldn’t pay three hundred dollars a month for a parking spot.
I glance back at their bags and down at my backpack, the same one I’ve had since ninth grade. It’s old and faded, but it doesn’t have holes, so I see no reason to replace it. I’m not spending a cent of that scholarship money unless I have to.
I was lucky as hell to get a full ride to such a great school. I can recognize that, while also recognizing I don’t belong here. My expectations need to shift. I’ll hunker down in the library for the next four years, get the fuck out of Boston, and help set my mom up in a nicer place. A place that’s her own, like she’s always wanted.
“Oh my god, I’m so excited about this!” a random blond girl says as she throws herself into the seat next to me. I look around for whatever friend she’s talking to, but there isn’t anyone.
“Are you excited, too?” She’s talking a mile a minute and doesn’t give me time to answer. “I’ve been dying for this class. Dr. Cassia is, like, my personal hero. She’s so smart. And did you know she’s actually from Rome? She grew up around all this stuff we’re gonna talk about. And a woman. So many of the big names in the field are men, but she kicks so much ass that they all worship her. And she’s consulted on, like, all the big movies and TV shows about Rome. Everyone wants to hear what she thinks. It’s, like, the coolest thing ever, right?”
I stare, dumbstruck by the information dump.
She teases her bottom lip with her teeth, and I realize that this whirlwind of a girl is mind-blowingly hot. Her long, blond hair falls over her shoulders, and even in her Chadoin sweatshirt and jeans, I can tell she has curves that could stop my heart. Those wide chocolate eyes are stunning, even though they dart around like she’s looking for an escape route.
“Sorry, not cool?” she asks. “I get overexcited. Sometimes it’s hard to stop the words.”
“My advisor put me in the class.”
God, could I sound more boring?
Her shoulders cave in. “Yeah, of course. That makes sense. Sorry again.”
She faces the front of the auditorium, fiddling with her bag as she scans the room for a different seat. I’m struck by an irrational and overwhelming fear that if this girl walks away from me right now, the rest of my life will be wasted. She lifts her bag, and I panic.
“What movies?”
It comes out too fast and too loud, but at least she hasn’t left yet. She blinks her wide eyes. A slow smile curves her lips, and I find my gaze locked on them. After a beat, she drops her bag back to the ground and turns toward me.
