Page 13 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Rowyn

B eing back on campus evokes a wave of mixed emotions.

Up until last night, I had found summer break to be quite pleasant, even enjoyable for the most part.

The familiarity of Willowbrook Hall is striking; it appears almost unchanged since we left it a few months ago.

It’s as if time has simultaneously stood still and raced forward.

The surrounding landscape is vibrant; the trees are adorned with lush foliage, the grass is a rich green, and the sky is a clear, uninterrupted expanse of blue.

Despite the unchanged appearance of the campus, something feels different.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that another year has passed, that we’re all a little older, a little wiser.

Or maybe it’s the realization that with each passing semester, we’re one step closer to graduation, to the end of this chapter of our lives.

The bittersweetness of returning to campus lies in the juxtaposition of comfort and change, of familiarity and anticipation.

“Ready?” Lyndsy’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I stare at our dorm.

“Yep. Let’s do it,” I reply, pulling my luggage from the trunk.

Move in day is the busiest day of the year. Parents and students are all rushing around to get things in order before the semester begins. We navigate through the throng of people in the lobby as we make our way to the elevator.

“Excited to get back to normal life, Row?” Lyndsy asks as we step inside.

“Honestly, yes. It’s been a weird summer, but now I can get back into the swing of things,” I answer, thinking about how much has changed.

We reach our floor, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft ding.

“What room are we in again?” she asks.

“609. It’s right down there.” I point toward the end of the hall .

We make our way down the long corridor, passing closed doors on either side until we reach the one marked 609.

I fish the room key out of my pocket and slide it across the lock, opening it with a click.

The door opens, revealing a cozy dorm room similar to the one we shared last year with Fallon.

We step inside, and I flick on the light switch.

I set my suitcase and backpack down on the bed in the middle room as Lyndsy does the same in the room to the left of mine. We quickly get to work unpacking and organizing our belongings, making the rooms feel more like home.

“Do you think Fallon will come by later?” Lyndsy yells, her voice muffled as she digs through her suitcase.

“I hope so. It feels weird not having her here right away,” I reply, folding a sweater and placing it in the drawer.

“Yeah, but she’s probably busy with her Remy. You know how she is.”

“True, but I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too long.”

Instead of finishing, I plop down on Lyndsy’s bed and watch her hang clothes in the closet, the familiar scent of her lavender fabric softener filling the air.

“Hey, do you think we’ll have any cute guys in our classes this semester?” she asks, a playful grin spreading across her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Always thinking about boys, huh? ”

“Can you blame me? It’s college! We’re supposed to have fun!”

“True, but I’m more focused on getting through my classes this year.”

Just then, a knock on the door interrupts our banter. I exchange a glance with Lyndsy before walking over to open it.

Standing in the doorway is a shorter girl with long black hair and bright, curious eyes.

““Hey,” I say, stepping aside. “I’m Rowyn. You must be our new roommate.”

“I’m Rebekah,” she replies, her genuine smile warming the small space. “Nice to meet you!”

“I’m Lyndsy,” she chimes in from behind me. I move aside so she can step in and shake Rebekah’s hand.

“Are you both sophomores?” Rebekah asks as she takes in our surroundings.

“Yes!” we answer in unison.

“I’m a junior,” she states, and I can’t help but blink in surprise.

“What?” I exclaim, my mouth dropping open.

She laughs, a sound that dances in the air. “Did you expect a senior?”

I shake my head, still trying to process it. “No, I just... you seem so young!”

Her laughter deepens. “I skipped a year of high school. I’m not a genius or anything—just got lucky,” she shrugs, radiating confidence. “So, what year did you start?”

“Last year. We roomed together with another girl, and that’s how we all met,” I explain, feeling a sense of camaraderie forming.

“What are you two majoring in?” Rebekah asks.

Lyndsy answers first, her voice bright. “Business management. What about you?”

“I’m majoring in Music Therapy,” Rebekah replies, her eyes lighting up with passion.

I whistle, impressed. “That sounds like a lot of fun!”

She grins wide, her enthusiasm infectious. “It is, but it’s a lot of work.”

“I can imagine,” I agree.

“This is my first year here. I’m a transfer student, and I’m kinda nervous,” Rebekah admits, her gaze dropping.

I nod knowingly. “I get that. Moving is never easy.”

“Do you have your books yet?” Rebekah asks, glancing over Lyndsy’s belongings and then back at me, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“Yeah, I had to limit myself, or I’d carry half the library,” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood and mask the chaos my life has become.

“Do you two have any plans tonight?” she asks, her bright yellow eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I was thinking we could grab some food.”

“Actually, the swim team’s yearly move-in party is tonight, so we were going to go to that,” Lyndsy says, excitement shining in her features. I want to strangle her for mentioning the party without inviting our new roommate, and for thinking I would want to go anywhere near those assholes.

“Oh, okay. Well, have fun,” Rebekah replies, her smile barely masking her disappointment.

I turn to Lyndsy, giving her a glare. “Why don’t you come with us? I’m sure you’d have fun.”

Her eyes light up, the dull cloud of disappointment dissipating like fog with the rising sun. “I’d love that!” Rebekah exclaims, clapping her hands in delight.

“It’s a plan then!” Lyndsy giggles, bouncing on her heels like a child who just got told they could have candy for dinner. “We have a few hours, so I’m going to do some unpacking until then.”

“I need to do that too. Let me know when it’s time to go,” Rebekah calls from the hallway, her voice echoing with excitement. I wait until she’s far enough away before closing the door to have a word with my best friend.

“I’m not going tonight! Don’t you think we had enough fun last night?” I snap, frustration bubbling to the surface .

“We have to go! Everyone who’s anyone will be there. You know that,” she argues, her tone insistent.

“No, not me. I’ve had enough entertainment to last a lifetime,” I huff, crossing my arms defiantly.

“Row, it’s a tradition. It won’t be any fun without you there. Plus, Rebekah could use a friend. She’s new and probably feeling a bit lost,” Lyndsy pleads, her eyes softening.

I sigh, the weight of her words settling in. “Fine, but only for a little while. I don’t want to be there all night.”

Lyndsy beams, her excitement palpable. “That’s the spirit! We’ll make it fun, I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that.” I make my way to the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

The bathroom feels suffocating, the air thick with an unsettling silence.

I lean against the cool tiles, the dim light flickering overhead casting shadows that dance ominously across the walls.

Taking a deep breath, I try to shake off the eerie feeling creeping up my spine, but it clings to me like a second skin.

My fingers brush against something hard in my pocket, curiosity momentarily distracting me from the unease. I pull it out, and my heart plummets. Staring back at me is a small pink pony, its eyes gouged out, hollow sockets staring into the void .

“What the fuck?” I gasp, the horror of the discovery sending a jolt of panic through me. I toss it away as if it burned my skin, the sound of it clattering on the floor echoing in the silence.

“Everything okay in there?” Lyndsy calls through the door.

“Yeah,” I croak. “Thought I saw a bug,” I lie.

“Need me to come kill it for you?”

“No!” I shout, not wanting her to see the hideous toy in the corner. I don’t want to explain that part of my life with her.

I see a pink note on the ground that must have fallen from the pony. With shaking hands, I bend over and grab the small paper. Turning it over, my face pales and I feel bile rising in my throat.

Dear Rowboat,

Did you think I wouldn't find you again?

-A

Panic bubbles in my chest, and I begin to pace, my palms slick with sweat. “How?” I mutter, half to myself and half in accusation to the empty room. The image of a figure in a baseball cap flashes through my mind, colliding with me in the hallway, and a chill sweeps over my skin.

Could it be…? No, I shake my head, trying to dismiss the thought.

Desperate to regain my composure, I recall my therapist’s words. Inhale deeply, count to five. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing, the darkness pressing in around me.

In.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Out.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Repeat.

With each breath, the sense of strangling dread begins to loosen, but the shadows of memories flood back—fragments of a childhood I wish to forget.

I reluctantly retrieve the doll from where it had fallen, its grotesque form sending shivers down my spine.

I shove it into the back of my drawer, determined to ignore it for now, but the weight of its presence lingers, a dark reminder of something I can’t escape.

Eight years old…

“Whatcha playin’, Row, row, row your boat?” Albie asks as he plops down on the carpet next to me.

“Ponies,” I reply without looking up.

“Mind if I play, too?” This time I do look up at the older boy with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Okay. This is Pinkie. She’s my favoritest.” I hold up the prettiest pink pony for him to see. “Wanna brush her hair?”