About Us (Ravenwood University #2)

Chapter 1

“ Z oey?”

My eyes blink, glancing at the freshman with a pinched frown. My face flushes as I refocus on the task at hand. It’s been nearly a week since I blew up my life. I couldn’t think straight. My life used to be simple: graduate top of my class in high school, get into a reputable engineering undergrad all paid for by scholarships, get into grad school, and land a badass aerospace job. All the while having fun and finding the love of my life. Currently, I’ve accomplished most of my academic goals, but my love life just had to implode like a dying star. Now I wasn’t having fun. The love of my life is actually an asshole, and I don’t even know who I am anymore.

My eyes move toward the three-by-three matrix on my student’s worksheet, my mind automatically moving in a familiar pattern as I assess her work. Why can’t my life be like linear algebra, predictable when you follow a set of rules?

“We will use the induction hypothesis here for this, but first we need to compute several powers of A.”

The Frowny Freshman sighs miserably, her hands running through her hair.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I plaster on a cheery grin. “You are so much better now than when you first started.”

“You think so?” she asks.

Nodding, I flip to the beginning of the workbook. “Look, the beginning was a mess. See all these mark ups?” Then I proceed toward the middle and end of the book. “Now here is where I felt you really took off. Now I barely have to mark anything up.”

She nods, the lines on her face relax.

“That’s progress, my friend.” I smile at her. “Now, let’s move on to the next.”

As the freshman continues to work on the next problem, I take a sip of my coffee from my mug. I grimace when my lips find coffee grounds. The coffee pot is empty, and it made little sense to make any more. Break is starting, the Ravenwood Tutor Center is empty, cold. The room’s dull lighting and decade-old carpets are in need of replacement.

When I look back at my mug, I realize it’s the same mug that Eddie had given me on my birthday.

Fucking Eddie.

How did I let myself get into this state? Zoey in high school would be so disappointed. I set down the gray mug and stare at it, remembering the moment I got it.

“ You have so many weird mugs. I thought you’d like a normal one for professional places,” Eddie had said when I opened the gift. The mugs came in a set of four, like the kind you would find in a chain store. I thought little of it and now the reminder holds coffee grounds and a foul taste.

My freshman is vigorously erasing her solution, starting over again. We are the only two people in the center today. I was one of the last upperclassmen willing to do last-minute sessions. This particular freshman was willing to pay me extra to help get ahead of next semester. Many of the students at Ravenwood already left, save a few stragglers like us. Summer left this morning and my flight was a red-eye.

Despite the emptiness of the university, I can’t help but glance at the door. Waiting for my heart to pound and my stomach to drop when Tripp Montgomery makes an appearance. He is supposed to be here to do a session with his student.

“Okay, I’ve finished,” my Frowny Freshman announces with hope in her eyes. Holding my breath, I pray I don’t crush it. My hands take over her workbook, glancing over and following her solution. The student is silent, likely praying that she got it right. Relief washes through me. I reward her with a bright grin.

“Soon, you’ll be teaching me!” I high-five her, warmth filling me as the Frowny Freshman becomes the Smiley Freshman.

“Thanks, Z,” she says, relief in her voice. “I think I’m getting it, at least I’ll be ahead this time next semester.”

The clock is digital and red, the only colorful thing in the room. It changes to three in the afternoon and my student scrambles to pack her things and leave.

Glancing at the door, I try to listen for telltale signs of other students. Of Tripp. It’s dead silent.. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t see him right now. He had scheduled a reservation in one room for his tutor’s session today. It is already thirty minutes past the time. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility he or his student canceled.

My anxiety gnaws at me as I reset the private study room. I receive a buzz on the phone and it’s a payment from the freshman. A nice little Christmas bonus for the last-minute session.

Shutting off all the lights and locking the door, I take one last glance before walking down the hall and into the cold air. It’s not logical to linger. He or his student would have been here by now. Tripp was lucky that cancellation didn’t matter to him. It’s not like he is hurting for cash. He once told me he occasionally gets paid in pastries. As a legacy and beloved center of the Ravenwood Ravens hockey team, he’s likely either flying home first class to his family or at one of the winter break parties in the mountains.

“Hey Zoey.” My heart nearly stops as I find George Hopkins jogging to catch up to me. He’s tall, with a boyish grin that is more endearing than classically handsome. His hair is coffee-colored, just like his eyes. He falls into step with me. Looks like we were both heading to our cars.

“Hey, George.” I’m plastering on another smile, trying to pretend that all is right in my world. Snow dusts the grounds of Ravenwood campus as the tall oak trees, bare for the winter, create a deserted atmosphere. My breath puffs out in front of me and I am briefly excited to get to warmer weather in Arizona with my family.

“How is your secret project?” I ask, looking ahead.

George beams at my question. “In progress.”

“No hints, huh?” My eyes steal a glance as George shakes his head.

“What are you up to right now?” he asks suddenly. Ever since Eddie had dumped me nearly a month ago, George was becoming more chatty with me ever since. He is a fellow tutor monkey like I am. George is a brilliant engineering student and we share nearly the same science and math classes.

“Have to head home to pack. I got a red-eye tonight,” I say, pulling my puffy coat closer around me. The wind was picking up and I notice the tips of his ears and cheeks getting red from the cold.

“Wanna go swing by a party before you take off?” George grins. “It’s at the hockey house; Tripp told me about it.”

“Oh.” I shrug. “Is that where he is? I saw he booked a room.”

“Yeah, he told me he canceled.”

My throat dries and my thoughts latch on to the revelation. Did he cancel because of me? Did that mean he definitely regretted what we did?

“He said you’re invited,” George adds. “And it’s a small party.”

I bite down on my lip, anchoring myself from the confusing feelings wreaking havoc in my chest. If he invited me, he would have told me.

“I’ll pass, honestly kind of pooped,” I say.

“You sure?” George’s demeanor dims. He shoves his hands in his pockets in disappointment.

“Yeah.” My smile is weak. I’m finally in my car and all I want to do now is bury myself under my blanket.

“Okay, well, have a good one, okay?” George says, moving toward me. I realize he wants to hug. Instead, I gave him a light pat and an awkward wave as I scramble to get in my car.

My phone connects to the Bluetooth and I play my eighties playlist. It’s overused, but I’m focusing on Whitney Houston instead of the humiliation invading my body.

The music and singing continue when I pull into the apartment I share with Summer. I wash my gray mug and place it among my collection of mugs. It was a stark contrast to the lewd designs or pop culture memes all over my other mugs. Thanks to Summer, the place is clean. All I have to do is drag my clothes out of my closet and dump them in my suitcase. There was no reason to hang out in the apartment and before I’m tempted to confront Tripp myself, I book my ride to the airport.

Relief washes over me when I finally get in the ride share taking me out of town. Worry tries to invade, but I push it away and focus on the excitement of seeing my family. I don’t care that I’m hanging out at the airport for nearly three hours before my flight. Getting out of Ravenwood is for the best. It’s time to clear my head, to get myself together and reset.

The airport restaurant is swamped, people chatting excitedly about the holiday. It’s a miracle I snag a spot and pluck the drink menu. My eyes skim over the options and I grimace at the intruding thoughts of prior events. Regret feels like a lead weight in my chest, and I swallow the despair I created by a moment of self-destruction.

Self-destruction was a bad day, and a broken heart. Self-destruction has jade green eyes, sandy blonde hair and one dimple that only appears when he smiles. If only I had known better.

What have I done? Why did I fuck Tripp Montgomery?