Page 30

Past

T he bus rumbles beneath us, eating up the last few miles to South Carolina, and I watch out the window like a kid seeing the world for the first time. Because, in a way, I am.

Everything outside the glass is bigger, brighter, louder than I ever imagined. Cities stretch out in ways I’ve never seen, highways twist and tangle, and the world doesn’t stop moving—not even for a second. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way.

Truman shifts beside me, stretching his long legs into the cramped aisle. “You’re gonna get whiplash staring out the window like that.”

I don’t look away. “I’ve never seen so many buildings in my life.”

His lips twitch. “Wait ‘til you see the campus.”

Right. The campus. His college. The place he’s actually supposed to be. Unlike me.

I press my forehead to the cool glass. “You sure I’m not gonna be a problem?”

Truman doesn’t hesitate. “You are a problem.”

I snap my head toward him, about to fire back, but his eyes are stormy, a devilish grin on his handsome face.

Asshole.

I shove his arm, but he catches my wrist easily, his grip firm, warm. “Truman—”

“You’re my problem, Kid, which is to say no problem at all.”

I swallow hard. He says stuff like that so easily, like it’s just fact. Like I belong to him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The bus jerks, the speakers crackling to life.

My stomach flutters.

Truman’s thumb brushes against my pulse. “Ready?”

I nod, even though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for this.

The campus is beautiful. Paths bisect lovely green lawns. Old brick buildings line the edges. The warm South Carolina sun makes everything glow. The new student orientation leader sits behind a desk outside the registration hall. Truman steps up to him when it’s his turn.

“Name?” the guy asks.

“Truman Biggins.”

The guys scans a list, nods, and grabs a packet.

“Here you go, Truman. Welcome to Kanuga College.” He flashes a grin that’s entirely too chipper and thrusts the folder into Truman’s hands.

“Thanks.”

Truman steps aside and opens the packet. His new student ID flutters to the ground—a terrible photo next to his name and STUDENT printed above in bold letters. He grabs it quickly, glancing around to see if anyone noticed, then stuffs it back inside.

The cover of the packet has a picture of students laughing in front of a fountain. THEY SAY YOUR BEST YEARS ARE AHEAD OF YOU! is splashed across the top in big letters.

“Where to now?” I ask.

He glances around, sees what he’s looking for and nods. “This way.”

Truman’s dorm room is—small.

The room is incredibly tiny. It contains just one desk, a bed that seems almost too short for him, and a well-worn dresser.

The window is slim, and the closet is even slimmer.

I gaze at the floor for a moment, trying to figure out how to arrange a sleeping area for myself.

But it’s his. And now, for as long as I can stay, it’s ours.

Setting my bag on the floor first, I drop onto the bed, testing the mattress. “Cozy.”

Truman snorts, unzipping his duffel. “That’s a generous way of putting it.”

I glance around. “At least you don’t have a roommate.”

He shoots me a look. “Because I requested a single.”

I raise a brow. “Why did you do that?”

He leans against the dresser, arms crossed. “I need quiet to study and do homework. I don’t test well.”

I flop back on the bed. “So, what now? Do I just… lurk around campus like some ghost with no identity?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.” He grabs his wallet and slips back into his sneakers. “First, we’re getting you a cell phone.”

I blink. “A cell phone ?”

“Yeah, you need one. I need to be able to text you, let you know when I’ll be around to let you in and out.”

I sigh. “Oh right.”

I don’t know what I expected from a cell phone store, but it’s a little overwhelming. Bright lights, walls lined with screens, a dozen salespeople bouncing between customers like they’ve downed a pot of coffee.

I stick close to Truman as he guides me toward a display. “Anything look good?”

I glance over the options. “They all look the same.”

He huffs a laugh. “That’s fair.” He picks one up, flipping it over in his hand. “This one’s solid. Easy to use, good camera, won’t die on you every five seconds.”

I take it from him, feeling the weight of it in my palm. My very own phone. It’s weird. Foreign. But kind of thrilling.

The salesman appears like a shark scenting blood. “Looking to start a new plan?”

Truman nods. “Yeah, just calls, texts, data.”

The guy grins. “Great! Can I see your ID?”

I stiffen. I have no birth certificate, no social security card, no id. Just a wad of cash and some clothes and toiletries. Truman’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the way his whole body tenses beside me.

“She’s on my plan,” he says smoothly, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll handle the paperwork.”

The salesman shrugs. “No problem.”

I exhale slowly as Truman starts filling out forms, listing me as some extension of himself.

I pull out cash for him. Truman glances at me while the guy runs over the setup options. His fingers brush mine, grounding me.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

I nod, because if I speak, I might feel too much.

The walk back to his dorm is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He swings the bag with my new phone inside it, hands tucked in his pockets.

“This is weird,” I admit.

Truman smirks. “Which part?”

“All of it.” I gesture at the campus around us. “You. Me. Here. I feel a little unmoored.”

He stops walking, turning to face me. The streetlight above us casts a glow over his face, making his eyes look impossibly deep.

“You’re here because you belong with me,” he says.

A shiver runs through me, part anticipation, part something heavier.

“Truman—”

He steps closer, backing me up against a tree. “You wanna know what’s weird, Kid?”

I swallow hard. “What?”

His fingers trace up my arm, slow, teasing. “That I haven’t kissed you in hours.”

The breath rushes out of me. “That is weird.”

His lips twitch, then he’s kissing me—deep and slow, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. I grip his shirt, pulling him closer, letting him press me into the rough bark of a tree.

It’s dizzying. It’s reckless.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathless.

Truman’s dorm is still a mess. Clothes spilling out of his duffel, a stack of books teetering on the desk, and an unopened box shoved against the wall.

I sit cross-legged on his bed, holding up a t-shirt. “You gonna fold these or just let them become one big wrinkle?”

He glances up from unpacking a box, smirking. “Wrinkles build character.”

I snort. “No, they make you look like you slept outdoors.”

His brow lifts, all challenge. “That right?”

Before I can react, he’s grabbing me, pulling me down onto the bed with a low grunt. His weight pins me for half a second before he shifts, bracing himself on his elbows so he doesn’t crush me.

I try to act unaffected. Try .

“Truman,” I mutter.

His smirk deepens. “Kid…”

I roll my eyes, but my pulse is erratic, and he knows it.

Before he can do more, a knock sounds at the door.

Truman sighs, reluctantly peeling himself off me before yanking the door open.

A guy leans against the frame, grinning like he’s already decided we’re all gonna be best friends. He’s tall, lean, with shaggy brown hair and a backward baseball cap.

“Yo. Saw you moving in—figured I’d introduce myself.” He holds out a hand. “Eli. I live across the hall. I’m a sophomore.”

Truman shakes it. “Truman.”

Eli nods, glancing past him. His gaze lands on me still sprawled on the bed, and his grin widens. “And you are…?”

Truman shifts, blocking part of his view like it’s instinct. “My girlfriend.”

The words hit me like a live wire. Am I? Is that how it happens? I assumed that there would be an asking, a conversation. But all I have to go off of is books I’ve read. The corners of my mouth tip up into a grin.

Eli lets out a low whistle. “Damn, freshman year and you’re already off the market? Rough, man.”

Truman smirks. “Tragic, I know.”

I sit up, feeling awkward and out of place. “I don’t go here.”

Eli winks. “Oh, okay.” He’s got the kind of easy energy that balances out Truman’s serious tendencies.

Before anyone can say more, a second voice chimes in from the hall.

“ Helloooooo, new people! ”

A girl appears next to Eli, all confidence and bright eyes.

She’s tall, with a messy ponytail and an over-sized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder.

These people all seem to know how to chat, how to live, how to just exist in the world.

I have so much to learn, to catch up on in the ways of socializing that my head spins.

“Are we making introductions?” she asks, placing a hand on her hip.

Eli gestures lazily. “Truman. His girlfriend. ” He makes air quotes, grinning at me. “Still waiting on a name, by the way.”

I smirk. “Kid.”

Her eyes sparkle with interest. “That your real name?”

Truman exhales, already exasperated. “Yes.”

The girl tilts her head, assessing me like she’s already decided we’ll be friends. “I dig it.” Then she grins. “I’m Tasha. And I live exactly four doors down. Convenient, huh?”

Truman doesn’t react, but I see the way his jaw tightens. He’s already wary .

Tasha must sense it, too, because she laughs, holding up her hands. “Relax, big guy. I’m not here to steal your girl.” Then she winks at me. “Unless you’re interested.”

I bark out a laugh, marveling in the way a cast of characters can literally jump from the pages of fiction into real life. Despite feeling out of my depth, a bubble of joy forms in my gut. What if I, we, can have real friends?

Truman groans. “Jesus Christ.”

Eli claps him on the shoulder. “Man, you’re in for a wild year.”

I pull out my new phone, snap a picture, and text it to Kenzie to show her Truman’s new friends.