Page 6

W hen I walk into Hubert Hall with Sunny for my first class, my nerves are at an all-time high, more erratic than I was expecting.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that this is my first day and everything is a bit uncertain.

Will the professor be kind? Witty? Strict? Dry? Will I have any POTS flare-ups? Will a thousand people try to pet Sunny?

But I know where my anxiety lies. The constant chance of running into Malik. This may be my first year here, but I’m not a freshman as far as credits go. I have a plethora of credits from classes I completed in high school. Academically, I’m a sophomore. Which raises the stakes of sharing a class with him .

Thankfully, I haven’t seen him since the night he barged into my room.

A shiver runs down my back, reminding me of the coldness of that night. Not only from the cool air outside, but also the wintery chill of his tone and touch. The bite of his words and threats.

A reminder that he doesn’t have a soul to warm his bones. He’s empty and hollow, and he always will be.

Mumbling to Sunny, I nervously blabber, “Come on, baby. Let’s go to our first class.”

She wags her tail and looks up at me with big, round eyes beaming with purity. I swear dogs are angels sent to show us the true meaning of unconditional love.

“I’ll take you to do something fun after this, I promise.”

She looks ahead and continues striding beside me with ease. We may have to make it a shorter walk today though because this morning was a bit shaky for me.

Mornings are usually a good indicator of how the rest of my day will go. And with the headache and tiredness I woke up with this morning, I need to take it a bit easier than normal.

Every morning, before I ever get out of bed, I drink a few big gulps of water from my water bottle and give myself a minute to adjust while I slowly stretch my limbs out. Gradually, I sit up, taking my time and listening to my body as I go.

I’m a bit more cautious than usual with how this morning went, but I’m taking it minute by minute. I feel okay right now—not great, but good enough to go on with the day as planned.

I wonder if there will ever come a day when I’m used to the level of decorum at this school. Or the opulence in every nook and cranny. I know that I grew up wealthier than most, but this place is something else entirely.

I mean, how many chandeliers is too many? The electric bill for this place must be insane. But when your student body consists of politicians’ children, royals, gold medalist athletes, and every other elite qualifier, money isn’t a problem.

Everyone wants the best for their kids—or at least to make the biggest show of it all. It’s a bragging right both for the student and their family.

Whether it’s donating a few million to have the family name slapped on a building or sponsoring the school with your family’s billion-dollar sports drink company, like the Hawthornes, everyone fights to for the favor of this school. And everyone wants the shiny golden ticket we’ll receive at graduation.

I’m sure my dad thinks I’m doing this to impress him, but I stopped trying to do that a long time ago. I’m doing this for me and me alone.

Turning into the classroom, I find it completely empty—exactly as I was hoping. I eye my seat immediately and cross the distance with Sunny to the first seat on the bottom row of the tiered seating. Easy in, easy out. And if I need to slip away, I can without having to cross the entire class, drawing unwanted attention.

I think I might have spent so much time hiding in the shadows that I’m scared to step into the light. I like to stay hidden from the rest of the world. It’s comforting, safe.

But with Malik back in the picture, I’m scared that my presence will be glaring. Especially to him.

Sitting down in my seat, I unload my laptop, book, notepad, and pen from my backpack as I hear footsteps turn into the room and approach me.

But they aren’t the heavy stride of a big guy; they’re softer.

Glancing up, I find a brunette girl with a kind smile walking toward the seats to my left.

She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her.

“Wow, I’m surprised someone is here before me. I’m usually always first.” She chuckles softly. “Impressive.”

“I don’t know that impressive is the word I’d use. More like anxious.” My lips tip into a grin as she slides into a seat to my left, leaving the one between us empty.

“I’ve been there. Trust me. Is this your first year here?” She opens her shoulders to me, giving me her full attention.

I nod. “Yeah. I took a year off after high school to … I don’t know … figure some stuff out, I guess.”

A few students walk into the room, filling the silence with their muffled chatter.

“So, did you figure it out?” She lifts her hands up. “I’m sorry. I feel like I should apologize for coming in here and interrogating you. I’m not usually this … extroverty?” She chuckles at the made-up word.

Laughing with her, I brush her apology away. “Don’t worry about it. And, yeah … I mean, it’s complicated.”

“ Complicated I can understand. I’m Blair, by the way.” She officially introduces herself.

“I’m Alora.” I smile softly.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She smiles back.

Her eyes fall to Sunny, who’s now lying down on the ground between our feet.

“This is Sunny.” I pause as her ears perk up at the sound of her name. “She’s my service dog.”

“May I ask what for? I totally understand if that’s too personal though.” Her eyes widen from fear of overstepping.

“No, it’s okay. I have POTS—postural orthostatic tach?—”

She cuts me off by finishing my sentence. “Tachycardia syndrome. Yeah, in high school, a friend of mine had it.”

“Oh, really?” I sit up taller.

“Yeah. We weren’t super close, but I helped her a time or two with it when she needed someone. Whether to vent or hold her through an episode. But I’m sorry I cut you off.”

“Don’t apologize,” I assure her. “It’s actually rather refreshing to talk to someone about it here. It’s just been Sunny and me, so it’s nice.”

Sunny looks up at me, and I think that she somehow understood that conversation and is offended that my talking solely to her isn’t fulfilling enough.

“Oh, stop that. You know I love you.” I pet the top of her head, brushing her ears down.

Blair fidgets in her chair, and I can tell she wants to pet Sunny, but doesn’t want to be rude.

Turning my attention to Blair, I ask, “Do you want to pet her? She loves attention.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, already moving her way toward Sunny.

“Yes.” I chuckle. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” She reaches down, and Sunny encourages her hand even more by sitting up and leaning into her touch. “I’m always here if you need someone to help you. I mean, I’m sure that your girl here is great at her job. But if you ever need a vent session, I’m here.”

I know I just met this girl, but I can tell she’s genuine. Maybe it’s from being surrounded by lying politicians most of my life that gifted me with the ability to spot a liar a mile away.

“That means a lot.” My eyes burn, and I instantly shut the sensation down.

What the hell? Why am I tearing up at her simple offer? It’s ridiculous. Get it together, Alora. She is just trying to be polite.

But I can’t help it. I’ve felt the sinking claws of loneliness my entire life, but there’s a special kind of ache reserved for the absence of friendship. Something I’ve gone a long time without.

Apart from an old family friend I spent some time with after high school—Phillip Stephens, my oldest friend. We were brought together from our fathers’ dealings in politics, forced into friendship, but a natural one blossomed over the years.

I appreciate him greatly, but it’s not the same as having a real best friend. The one person you can trust with your life, the one person you tell absolutely everything to. No barriers. No lies. No walls.

I’ve experienced it countless times—always jealous of the connection everyone else in the world but me seems to have. I know there are worse things I could be a victim of. But that doesn’t change the ache in my chest, a hole that’s never been filled.

It would be nice to have a friend here, even someone just to get coffee with on occasion.

“Can I get your number for when I’m in need?” I smile at her.

Blair’s movement yanks me from my spiraling thoughts. She digs her phone from her purse. “Of course. Here.” She sets her phone on my desk with a new text screen pulled up.

I type my number into the designated spot, put a smiley emoji in the body of the text, and hit Send. My phone vibrates on the small attached desktop in front of me.

“Perfect.” She beams.

I didn’t even notice, but the classroom is nearly filled up, almost every seat taken.

An older woman enters the room, beelining it straight for the desk.

Professor Samson.

With a hand tucked into her white dress pants, she drops her bag on her desk and leans back against the front of it. “Good morning, everyone. Today will be a short one. We will cover the syllabus. Then you will be sent on your way. No point in making your first week of classes hell. I’m sure there are plenty of other professors who will do that for me.”

“Fuck yeah!” someone in the back of the room shouts, followed by some sporadic clapping.

“Please pull it up on your laptop or phone. We’ll be starting on page five,” she announces. She’s clearly done this enough times that she has it memorized.

She continues, “Attendance. It is your job to care about your classes. I can’t make you show up. But I can be sure that if you don’t, you won’t pass my class.”

Page by page, she breaks down her rules, expectations, workload, and pretty much every single little thing we could want to know. It’s impressively thorough.

By the time she’s finished, we still have thirty minutes left on the clock, but like she said earlier, she’s releasing us early.

“Thank you all for showing up today. You’re dismissed.” She walks around her desk and sits down in her chair, opening her laptop and typing rapidly.

Students file out of the room, happier as ever that it’s over so quickly. To be fair, I don’t think that anyone is too upset about getting out of an Economics class early.

“Best class so far.” Blair chuckles as we both gather our things and stow them in our backpacks.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” I smile, throwing my backpack on as I rise from my seat.

She glances down at Sunny. “She is the best girl ever.”

“Be careful. She loves compliments. She might never leave you alone if you keep doing that.”

Blair crouches down in front of her, giving her gentle pets. “Oh no,” she mocks. “That would be horrible ,” she says sarcastically.

She stands up, and we walk out of the room together, falling into the flow of traffic down the hallway toward the exit.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be in this class with me. I was worried I would be stuck with people I didn’t get along with,” I sigh.

“Me too!” She opens one of the big arch doors, and sunlight flickers through. “What other classes do you have?”

She pulls her phone out, and a huge smile takes over her face. “I have to go, but send me a picture of your schedule! We should grab coffee sometime!”

“Yeah.” I nod as she starts backpedaling. “I’d love to. Have a good day!”

“You too!” she calls back to me as her pace increases.

She turns away and takes off in the opposite direction as me, picking up speed. It takes me less than a second to see exactly what she’s rushing toward—or rather … who.

As she reaches the beast of a guy wearing a Legends hockey T-shirt, I finally place where I saw her before, and my stomach sinks.

A perfect storm from the universe.

I’ve finally found someone who I think may actually be a good friend, and of course she has to be dating one of Malik’s teammates.

Why couldn’t she have been in the Anti-Hockey Club? That would have made this so much easier. But, no, she has to be in the same circle as the one person I’m desperately avoiding.

Exhaling, I turn the opposite way to head back to my room. Sunny walks beside me as we follow the path I’ve committed to memory. Maybe I should take her on a scenic trail back to our place instead of the straight route. She would probably love it.

“A quick one. And then home,” I tell her.

Guiding her down a new route, I let her sniff and explore as much as she likes, letting her set the pace.

Her collar jingles against her harness, reminding me that I need to order her a new service vest since she was a very naughty girl and chewed hers up a couple of days ago. Something she has never done. I have no clue why, all of a sudden, she decided it had to go, but there’s not much I can do about it now.

I know she isn’t marked as a service dog right now, which is technically against campus policy. But I have her card on me, so in the worst case, if someone stops me, I can show them that. But to be honest, I’m sure my last name is the only proof I need to halt any questioning.

Entering the walking roundabout with a vine-covered gazebo in the center, we drift right with the flow of foot traffic. As we pull right to turn on the first break of solid green hedges, I stop in my tracks, sighing at the sight.

You have got to be kidding me.

I think the universe is starting to have too much fun, messing with my life.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, his jaw locking and arms crossing over his chest as he stops in the middle of the walkway.

Malik Ravenwell is five feet from me, with four of his hockey players at his side. But I can’t look away from Malik’s unique purple glare.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t snap at me or plow through me, as expected. His anger at me is ever present, as always, but his lips are sealed shut.

Interesting .

I wonder why. It’s not like he’s had a change of heart toward me.

Maybe he doesn’t want his friends to know he was such a piece of shit in high school. Does that mean that I have the high ground for once?

His friends, noticing our obvious staredown, look from me to Malik, back and forth, waiting for one of us to make a move.

But instead, one of his friends does.

With dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, the two friends look vaguely similar, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re brothers. But to be honest, I don’t care. I just want to get away from them. And even farther away from Malik.

“Excuse me,” I mutter with annoyance in my voice, stepping to the side.

But one of the brown-haired boys politely stops me with his hand stretched out to mine. “Look, I don’t know what Malik’s done to make someone as beautiful as you so angry, but please don’t run off just yet.” His smile widens. “I’m Asher.”

“I’m Dean.” The other one introduces himself with a shining smile. “You know, we’re having a party this weekend. You should come.”

Like I’m going to fall for that setup.

Been there, done that with Malik. I’m not going to walk straight into his trap all over again.

“I appreciate that, and it’s nice to meet you both. But I’m going to …” I trail off, but Malik’s sharp-edged words stop me.

“Alora doesn’t like parties. It’s not her place anyway. Besides, I’m sure she’s too good to go to some college party.” His words snap with anger, sending a shiver down my spine. Malik steps forward, closing the distance between us to a mere two feet. “Don’t waste your breath with this one.”

“I don’t know.” Asher sighs. “I think that’s for me to decide, Mal.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to steer clear of her. She’s a waste of effort.”

I roll my eyes, and he inches closer to me.

Whoever I was five seconds ago is gone. I’m replaced by a pent-up ball of hatred that has spent years piling up. And I’m done with it.

Looking around him, I decide to fight fire with fire.

I bat my eyelashes and flash an award-winning smile. “Asher, I would love to tell you just how much of a waste I am over dinner.” Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I hand it over to him to type in a new message.

He happily takes it with a big smile on his face. “Sounds great to me.”

But Malik snatches it from his hand before he gets a chance. “No need to do that. Alora, you’re not allowed to date anyone on the team.”

“Excuse me?” I laugh viciously. “That’s not your place to decide.”

I rip my phone out of his hand.

He leans down and snarls, his warm breath caressing my lips, “You want to bet?”

“Malik, take a fucking breath, huh?” Asher scoffs. “If you’re marking her off-limits, I got you. But if not … then I’m inviting her to dinner or our party at least.”

He painfully tears his gaze from mine. “Asher, would you fuck off for two seconds, please?”

Asher holds his hands up in defeat with a shit-eating grin on his lips. Dean laughs at the awkward situation.

I hate that Malik has still found a way to have power at a new school. To make others obey his orders.

But it sounds like it’s more of a respected rule among the team. Although if it’s some off-limits rule that I have to worry about, then I’m not worried at all.

Malik would never claim me as his to anyone, but especially to his team.

“You’re not going to that party. You’re not going to dinner with Asher,” he commands like I’m a dog.

My words leave my lips before I even realize it. “I don’t take orders from you, Malik.”

His lip twitches. “Yes, you do. You did back then, and you will now. Like the good little bug that you are.”

Now it’s me who steps toward him. Jabbing my finger into his ridiculously firm chest, I stand tall. “ You have no idea who I am anymore. You don’t call the shots. Not when it comes to me.” I huff out a sharp breath. “You don’t scare me anymore, Malik.”

Wrapping his hand around mine, he yanks it down and off of him. I stumble from the force, but his grip keeps me steady.

His eyebrows pinch, and his nostrils flare. “I should.” His voice vibrates through every bone in my body.

He does. He scares the shit out of me.

Everything in me is telling me to run, to cower in the corner. But I don’t back down.

Standing up higher on my toes, I grind my next words through my teeth, my mouth inches from his. “You are nothing more than a bully and a sore loser, desperately clinging to a power that you no longer have over me.”

“Careful, Bug. You’re about to start a game you won’t be able to win.” The words he utters are only loud enough for me to hear.

His pupil-blown stare flashes to something behind me before returning to mine.

Backing up from him, I flick my hair over my shoulder, hanging on to every shred of fake confidence I have.

Striding past him, I glance up and address Asher once more. “I’d love to come to the party. You can get my number from Blair. She’s dating one of your teammates, right?”

He nods and smiles. “Can’t wait.”

Turning back around to Malik, I smile with nothing but poison in my words. “And, Malik? You’re wrong. It’s my game now.”

Without another word, I spin on my heel, and Sunny and I stride away with ease, as if that was the calmest and most carefree conversation I’d ever had. But inside, I’m dying. Desperate to get home and relax.

I can feel my heart rate starting to race. And Sunny has been looking at me far more frequently, as if she’s waiting for signs to tell me to slow down.

But I don’t want to give Malik the satisfaction of slowing down a step. I don’t want him to see a crack in my foundation.

Once we’re out of view of the guys, we chill our roll. Taking full deep breaths, I lean back against one of the tall hedges, calming my heart.

Retrieving my water bottle from my bag, I take a few sips and continue to take steady breaths. Moments later, I feel better already, and Sunny and I head straight for our room.

It only takes us a couple of minutes to reach the dorm and tuck ourselves safely inside our sanctuary.

She immediately goes for a snack from her food bowl as I drop my backpack and settle into my comfortable bed to rest for a bit.

My headache from earlier is beginning to creep back in—thanks to the Malik run-in, I’m sure. My time at HEAU would be so much easier if he wasn’t here at all.

Regret and worry start settling into my chest, pressing down with every breath I take.

Ugh … I never should have said anything to him. I should have turned around and walked away.

What the hell got into me?

He’s right … I know he’s right. This is a game I’m not going to win. Perhaps neither of us will. I think, in the end, we will be each other’s ruin.