Page 2 of Sunrises & Salvation

ADAM

MOVE-IN DAY SOPHOMORE YEAR

I stare at the kid talking to Brittany, waiting for him to get his name tag.

I don’t know why Brittany has to talk to every single person.

I swear, she talks more than anyone I know.

It’s ridiculous. I tap my foot in irritation, not wanting to let my impatience show to the freshman; I remember being in their shoes last year.

Well, I guess my circumstances were a little different, but there is stress that comes with a dramatic change like moving away from home. So, I shouldn’t blame them too much.

And Brittany is easily likable, even if she is the reason I’m currently standing behind this desk and helping new students rather than being in my dorm room working on my latest project.

Brittany smiles at me and then leaves the boy to approach the desk by himself.

He looks calm, his shoulders straight, and a peaceful smile on his face.

I’m hit with… something as I watch him approach.

The wheels of the bag he’s dragging click across every tile. The bomb-like sound ticking in my head.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Counting down to the moment my life is going to change. The confidence he was exuding is diminishing now as he stops in front of me, his eyes downcast, and a slight shake in his hand when he palms at the side of his neck.

Be nice, Adam. He’s nervous. Reassure him everything will be fine.

“Last name?” I say and mentally kick myself when he lifts his eyes to meet mine.

The light brown irises are almost green in the shitty overhead lighting.

Wait, why the hell do I care about what color his eyes are?

I don’t. I’m going to give him his name tag, and then maybe I’ll see him around campus a time or two.

The stupid flutter in my gut isn’t as convincing as it should be.

He’s just… so pretty. In a boyish way. His dark brown hair is slightly longer on top and buzzed on the sides, showing off his ears that stick out barely past the loose tendrils of hair.

The apples of his cheeks are tinted pink, and I can’t take my eyes off them.

I have the craziest urge to lean across the desk and bite on the plump skin.

There’s a small scar across his upper lip and almost to the side of his button nose.

“Collins.” His voice cracks a little, and I’m dragged out of my strange daydream. I shouldn’t be thinking of another guy like that. It’s weird, and he’s going to think I’m weird because I’ve been staring at him like a lovesick teen.

I scan the lanyard, looking for the Cs. And of course, there are multiple people with the last name Collins. It would be too easy for him to be the only one, so I could send him on his merry way and not have to learn any more information about him.

“First name?”

“Hunter.” Hunter. Hunter. I roll the name around in my head a few times.

It doesn’t fit him, not like it should. When I think about it, Hunter would be someone with broad shoulders, five o’clock shadow, and who doesn’t know the difference between there, they’re, and their.

The boy in front of me doesn’t fit that description.

He looks like the marble cherubs that used to decorate my parents’ living room. A babydoll face with innocent doe eyes.

“Hunter Collins?” I repeat back, silently memorizing the name. No matter how bizarre it is, I have to know more about him.

“Yes.” He nods, the hair on his head bouncing with the movement.

A small lock falls into his face, and my fingers twitch with the need to push it back.

I need him to get out of here. Before I do something stupid, like invite him to hang out with me so I can see why my brain all of a sudden decided I have to know more about him.

Finally, I find his name tag. I thrust it at him, making sure our fingers don’t touch when he grabs it from me.

“Uhm—” he starts, and I cut him off.

My tone comes off rude, but I’m losing my mind.

“Brittany went over everything with you. If you need anything, find her, or you can ask any other RA.” I turn my back and pretend to busy myself with the pamphlets behind me.

Fuck, I didn’t give him a map of the school.

I grab one, inhaling deeply to calm my racing brain so I can interact with him like a normal person.

“Here.” I turn around, and he’s nowhere to be found. My heart thumps in my chest. And I just know, when it comes to Hunter Collins, I’m royally fucked.

Four hours later, all of the freshmen have been checked in, and I’ve never been so glad to leave the dorms as I am now. The constant hustle has a headache forming at the base of my skull. I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to alleviate the dull throbbing.

“Not bad!” Brittany walks up behind me and slaps me on the back, her loud voice grating on my nerves worse than usual. I huff, giving her all the acknowledgement that I can for the time being. “Cheer up, dude. It’s over. You survived, and it wasn’t even that bad.”

“It was horrible.” All except for one interaction that I can’t get out of my mind.

“Whatever. Look at it this way, you won’t have to help next year.”

“You shouldn’t have forced me this year either,” I remark, keeping my eyes glued shut, and wishing she would get her shit so we can go back to our dorm. Well, not our dorm but our building.

“If I buy you dinner, will you stop complaining?” I lift my head up to glare at her. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. But I pick where we go.”

“Deal. Are you inviting Danielle? If you are, I’m texting Zoey.” I don’t want to invite Danielle, as horrible as it sounds to not want to invite my girlfriend, but after the day I’ve had and the tumultuous thoughts in my head, I can’t deal with her.

“No. Just the two of us. Like old times.” Brittany was one of the first friends I made in college, thanks to our shared interest in true crime documentaries.

So many of our memories from last year involve food and the oversized TV in my room, which should definitely be against regulation, but when you’re rich, certain doors get opened for you.

But I do feel bad that me not inviting Danielle means Brittany can’t invite Zoey. It’s not anyone’s fault that Danielle and I have been growing apart. Coming to college with a girlfriend wasn’t the best decision, but I couldn’t break up with her, either. So instead, I’m stuck.

“You can come over to my room later, invite Zoey. There’s a new documentary I saw on Netflix earlier today,” I offer, not wanting her to think I’m being standoffish just because she forced me to help her with this.

I pull my name tag off and toss it at her.

She catches it and tucks it away into the pocket of her uniform.

“You sure? I know it’s been a long day for you,” she hedges, but I can see the excitement in her eyes.

I don’t have it in my heart to tell her she’ll be doing me a favor if they come over tonight. It will keep me from getting too deep in my thoughts and doing something stupid.