Page 2 of Running Play (Gods of Campus #1)

Shelby

Six months later

My white Vans clip the first step, causing me to stumble. “Great start,” I murmur. Inhaling deeply, I straighten my shoulders, easing the ache in my lower back. My arms are full of luggage and my eyes are tired. It’s been a long journey, but I’m thankful for the site in front of me, home .

It couldn’t be more different to my suburban house on the outskirts of Brisbane.

It’s now a massive, four-level, red-bricked building with white windows and large white pillars at the entrance.

It’s perfect. It’s even better than how it looked in the brochures, and I’m excited about the opportunities it brings.

It was a last-minute application with numerous emails, Zoom meetings, and paperwork, but it has come together, I’ve made it.

It’s four in the afternoon by the time I ‘not so’ gracefully walk up the main stairs, and all I can think of is having a warm shower and collapsing into bed.

Leaving my family was hard. They had been by my side until the security check at the airport, crying and holding me tight, but they knew I needed to get away.

To put the past behind me and escape to a new location, a place I could breathe again.

My mom told me I needed to spread my wings and enjoy life.

Be that happy, carefree woman I used to be.

Maybe I was running away, but it’s what I needed to do.

Even after Justin was put behind bars, my life back in Australia wasn’t good.

It didn’t go back to normal like I hoped it would .

Leaving the house even with my sister was hard, going to the shops was even harder, everything was still so difficult.

I wasn’t being stalked anymore, but it still felt like I was.

I was just in a different cage with Justin behind bars.

I would get into the middle of our local shopping center, see a guy who resembled Justin, and have a panic attack.

It was agonizing, humiliating, uncomfortable, and as much as I tried to get past my insecurities, it wasn’t getting better.

My sister came to me the week after I had yet another public meltdown, showing me her friend’s Facebook profile and how she got accepted into a university in the States on an exchange program.

Granted, it took a few days and another public breakdown to make me apply, but once I started my application to Northern California University, or NorCal as they call it, I couldn’t stop.

I became a woman possessed like a demon on a quest to change my surroundings and the fear that I currently lived with.

The thought that Justin will be out soon, free, roaming the streets in just two short weeks always at the back of my mind .

But I’d done it…and now here I was starting a new life without the shadows of my past following me around.

***

Butterflies fill my stomach as I approach the front desk.

These flutters I welcome, this sense of unease I can handle, normal nerves, normal fears, and concerns, being normal.

I once again remind myself that everything should be in order—if you can handle your past, you can handle this.

All the necessary paperwork was done, emails sent, and every proverbial box was checked. This is my new start, my new life.

The petite girl behind the front counter is slowly stapling paperwork together and barely looks up when she greets me.

“Checking in?” she asks.

“Yes, umm…Shelby Wilson.”

She lifts her head for the first time as she reaches for a pile of envelopes.

She breaks a smile. “Welcome.” It’s warm and honest, not fake like she is only doing her job for some spare cash or extra credit.

Her kind eyes roam over my face and upper body.

The only parts she can see from behind the desk she sits behind.

“Your accent is really cool, where are you from?” she asks, pulling a large yellow envelope with my name on it.

“Oh, Australia. I just arrived.”

“That’s a big move, welcome to NorCal.” She reaches her hand across the desk like a true social butterfly.

“I’m Sarah. If you need anything, just come ask, I’m always around.

I know how daunting it can be to start college.

I couldn’t imagine doing it in a new country.

That’s next level.” She’s a gamer just like me, I can tell.

Fine, I’m only really a Call of Duty fanatic, but my shots are on point.

I mean, I have been playing since I was eleven and I rarely lose.

She points down the hall with her small hands and manicured pink nails. “My room is down that way. Room 10, just knock if you need me; otherwise, my digits are on the door.”

Her pink fingernail changes direction toward a staircase at the center of the large, open downstairs area. “And your room is up one level, room 27. Your roommate has already arrived,” she says all this with a bright smile.

She hands me the yellow envelope then taps it. “Everything you need to know is in here.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome to NorCal University,” she says in happy but monotone voice that you just know she is sick of repeating.

***

I make my way upstairs and down the hallway til I find the door marked 27.

The door is slightly ajar as I gently push it open and watch as a girl unpacks shoes from a brown box.

Soft pop music streams around the room as her lips move voicelessly to the words.

She’s lost in the song as she sets up her side of the room.

“Hello,” I say, hopeful that this is the beginning of a great friendship. I’m nervous, scared, and wondering if it’s too late to fly back home to my parents.

She turns and stands, pushing off from the box beside her.

She is stunning and I silently pray that all the American movies I watched growing up were wrong.

Please don’t let the hot girls be the meanest. Her hair is up in a messy bun, void of makeup, she is wearing a white shirt, gray track pants, and still, she is gorgeous.

She welcomes me with a smiling face. She has full lips, brown eyes, brown hair, and all the stunning darker features I don’t have.

“Hi,” she greets me. “You must be Shelby,” she says, dusting off her hands onto her track pants and walking toward me.

I nervously smile and go to hold out my hand, but she wraps me in a gentle hug, and I return the sentiment with my one free hand that’s still holding the envelope.

“I’m Scarlett, but everyone calls me Letti.”

“Hi,” I say, dragging my luggage through the doorway.

I shuffle through looking like a lost and exhausted sherpa—and even feel like I’ve just climbed Everest after the miles of traveling I’ve done; although, sherpas have grace and coordination that I’m not possessing right now.

My luggage hits my ankle, and walking into my new room is like my first step up the front steps.

Letti helps me, obviously taking pity on her unwashed, unkempt roommate who hasn’t slept or changed clothes in the last twenty hours.

My small can of deodorant, body wipes, hairbrush, and hand sanitizer seeing me through the last day as I see my small bed behind bloodshot eyes.

With what little energy I have left, I lift my large suitcase onto the unoccupied bed and sigh in relief.

Letti gently places my handbag and envelope onto my bedside table. “I claimed that bed,” she says as she points to her bed on the right side of the room. “I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to start unpacking and had to choose.”

“This bed is perfect,” I smile, gesturing toward it. It’s just a plain white mattress, but right now it looks like clouds in heaven. I know the jet lag and time difference will kick my butt for the next few days, so my bed and I are going to be the best of friends.

I take the weight off my feet and fall onto the bed with a loud sigh, and for the first time I take a good look around the room.

Two single beds pushed against each wall on opposite sides of the room.

Two welcome boxes donned in blue and silver sit on each desk.

One large wardrobe with a divider down the middle, television, and mini fridge.

Letti hung fairy lights covering the ceiling above both our beds, making the small area look magical, and a sign near the entrance saying, ‘Dorm Sweet Dorm’.

Her side of the room is already decorated and feels so homey.

A brand-new, neatly made bed in a sunny yellow and purple fabric appears like it’s still fresh out of the wrapping with the fold lines.

Three picture frames sit on her bedside table.

The first—a photo of her and, I’m guessing, her dad.

The second, a snapshot of her around age ten, standing beside a woman who might be her mother.

But it’s the last frame, the largest, that draws me in.

A guy, our age, stands behind her, arms wrapped around her chest. He presses a kiss to her cheek, eyes closed, as Letti leans into him, smiling, a single frame overflowing with unspoken emotion.

“Your accent is so lovely,” she says, closing a drawer in her desk. “You’re from Australia?”

“Yeah, Brisbane,” I nod. I reach across and unzip my bag. Reaching in, I pull out a clean shirt, shorts, panties, and toiletries.

Letti takes a seat on the other side of my bag. “Well, don’t worry, I can help you out with anything you need.” Her clear brown eyes look at me. “You must be so tired?”

Nodding, I look at her in exhaustion. I can just imagine how bloodshot my eyes look right now. I’ve never been one to sleep on planes, or any form of public transport, for that matter.

She leans over my suitcase and rubs my hand. “How about I quickly help you unpack a few things. I can show you where the showers are, and while you’re doing that, I can make your bed.”

“Oh no, you must be tired from all your unpacking, it’s fine I–” I try to interject but she continues, like this is happening, so just accept it.