Chapter 4
CHLOE
Twelve years ago
“Then I said to him, Dan, you cannot drink two Red Bulls and have a quad espresso and expect not to have heart flutters. It’s just creative writing.
It’s not that serious.” Talia huffs. “Like, come on. We’re freshmen.
We’re supposed to be having fun, not staying up and slamming caffeine all night for a paper that’s not even worth five percent of our final grade. He needs to chill.”
I want to remind my best friend that our parents aren’t paying an arm and a leg for us to party, but I fear that would be a fruitless endeavor, so I smile and nod as we make our way to the very course she’s talking about.
We may only be a few weeks into school, but it’s already my favorite class, though that’s really no surprise.
Writing has always been my outlet. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing—journaling about my day, making up a short story, or even writing a research paper for school—it’s like my brain comes alive when I put pen to paper, and all my insecurities and worries fall away.
If I had my way, it’s what I would be focusing on for my studies.
But, since my parents are paying for my education, they felt they had a say, so biology major it is, just like them.
“I mean, we’re in freakin’ college, Chlo. We got out of our tiny Tennessee town. That calls for some fun.”
It’s funny to me how much a person can change once they leave their hometown.
Just a few short months ago, Talia was the biggest bookworm I knew.
Her nose was always stuck in a textbook, and I used to have to beg her to leave her house on Friday nights, even just to head to the theater to catch the latest movie.
Now, I can’t seem to keep her in our room for more than five minutes before she’s running off to whatever new activity or boy has sparked her interest.
If I’m being honest, I’m jealous. I wish I had the luxury of having more fun, but school has never come as easily to me as it has to her.
Where she’s always barely had to study for a test, I was that kid who was up cramming all night and the morning before.
The only subject I never had to try so hard in was science, and I’m pretty sure that was because my parents shoved it down my throat since I could barely walk.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I’m planning to major in biology instead of pushing back against my parents’ wishes and fighting to get a creative arts degree—it’s easier to give in.
“Does that mean things between you and Stan are fizzling out?”
“His name is Dan, and eh. He’s so-so. But”—she sighs dreamily, then fans herself—“the things that man can do with his hands more than make up for it.”
“Talia!” I chide, looking around to make sure we’re not being listened to, but nobody pays us any attention.
She giggles. “What? I’m just saying, Chlo. You’re missing out with your whole no boys rule you’ve imposed.”
I know she’s teasing, but she doesn’t understand that if I want to succeed—and I really do, even if I’m not excited about my degree—I need to cut out all distractions.
That means no boys, no parties, and no fun until I can make my parents proud so they stop giving me those looks, the ones that say We want more for you, Chloe.
Since they’re both big names in their fields, I’m sure they do, and I want to give them that.
“I’m just trying to focus on my studies, that’s all,” I counter.
She rolls her baby-blue eyes, blowing out a puff of air and pushing her tousled bangs off her forehead.
She’s done nothing but mess with them since she got them this past summer—another big change for her—and I want to say the words I knew you’d hate them so dang badly, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
“Besides,” I say, “we don’t all have a job with Daddy Warbucks to go home to.”
I bump my shoulder against hers with a grin, which she returns, but I see how shaky it is. There’s a legacy to uphold for the Stevenson family, and when Talia is finished with school, she’s expected to dive right into working for her father.
We waltz into class with ten minutes to spare and take our usual spots in the back.
“Oh shit. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him,” my best friend hisses, sitting up straighter in her chair and tossing her long, honey hair behind her shoulder. She elbows me. “Sit up, Chlo!”
I know exactly who Talia is freaking out about before I even look, and though I tell myself I have no interest in him, I can’t deny the way my heart rate picks up.
I ignore it and her as I continue pulling my laptop, notebook, and pens from my bag, then a pair of black boots comes into my line of sight.
“Well, well, well,” a deep voice says from the right of me. “If it isn’t my favorite seatmate.” A backpack drops to the floor, and the scent of cedar bodywash and just a bit too much cologne tickles my nose. “How are you, Clover?”
I huff, annoyed by the name he gave me during the second week of classes. I can only assume it was because I was wearing the clover-shaped necklace my dad got me. “An actual lucky charm,” he said when I opened it for my birthday, which falls on St. Patrick’s Day.
Or maybe this guy gave me the nickname just because he likes annoying me. Who knows?
My tormentor laughs, and it unnerves something inside me that I don’t quite understand. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to try to understand it.
I don’t have time to analyze it before he says, “That excited to see me, huh, Clover?”
I clench my teeth, meeting the amber stare I’ve come to loathe head-on. “For the hundredth time, it’s Chloe. Chlo-e. It’s not that hard of a name to remember.”
He lets out another deep, hearty laugh. “Sure it is, Clover.”
“I think I know my own name, Callum.”
Those eyes—the same ones I’ve spent far too much time daydreaming about instead of taking notes—narrow at the use of his first name.
Nobody calls him that, not even the professors.
That’s the kind of special treatment you get when you’re a talented hockey player like him.
I’m pretty sure everyone—even the custodial crew—knows who he is.
Callum Keller is a god around campus, and everyone treats him like one.
Well, almost everyone. Not me. I am completely immune to his charms.
As if on cue, my stomach does a flip as he runs a hand through his camel-colored hair that sometimes looks blond when the light hits it just right.
Okay, I’m mostly immune to them.
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat as he slides into the chair next to me and spreads his legs wide until his thigh is pressed against mine. I act like it doesn’t make my palms sweat as I tighten my grip on the pencil in my hand and roll my eyes skyward.
“Aw, now come on. What was that for?”
“Because I find you annoying.”
He mock gasps, then points at himself. “Moi? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive.” I move the highlighter that got knocked askew back to where it belongs. “I know that’s a shock since everyone else seems to fall at your feet, but you don’t have me fooled.”
“Fooled? Who says I’m trying to fool anyone?” He grins, and dammit, it’s ridiculously hot. “I’m just being myself.”
“Right,” I mutter.
Talia pokes her head around me. “Hi, Keller.”
His grin falls. “Tallulah.”
“It’s Talia, but close enough,” she murmurs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “How’s the hockey season going?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes yet again. She knows exactly how his season is going considering we’ve gone to all the games this year. They’re currently sitting in second place, and word on the street is they’ll be one of the teams in the finals.
A lot of that is thanks to Callum. Though he’s not scoring every night, he’s still making plays, and it isn’t going unnoticed by anyone, including me, a casual hockey fan at best.
“Good,” he answers in a tone that says he’s not really interested in carrying on this conversation.
It doesn’t deter my best friend. She sits up straighter, leaning across my seat even more. “Good? More like great. Chloe and I have been going to all your games, and you guys are killing it.”
This perks him right back up, and he swings a cocky grin my way.
“So you go to all my games, huh, Clover?”
I groan inwardly, shooting a dirty look Talia’s way. She smiles at me unapologetically, and I get the sense she might realize I don’t hate Callum as much as I pretend to. Damn her for being so perceptive.
I turn back to the hockey player, who is showing off the fact that he still has all his teeth.
“Not on purpose.”
He laughs. “Right. Sure. I bet you just happened to stumble into the arena, right?”
“What can I say? There was a crowd, and I’m a follower.”
“Oh,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, which seems impossible since it’s already so low. “I highly doubt that’s true.”
“She’s on the school paper,” Talia says with a grin that could rival a proud parent. “She’s going to be a writer one day.”
“I never said that.” I look at Callum. “I never said that.”
He looks like he’s fighting off a laugh. “Duly noted, Clover.”
The professor walks into the room, and Callum holds his finger over his lips and turns toward the front of the room, pretending to be engaged.
He’s not, and I’m not either. All I can think about is how hot his voice just was, and how good his hair looks today, and his lips that are just pouty enough.
I wish I hated him more than I pretend to.
It’s Talia who finally gets me to stop staring at him, elbowing me hard and widening her eyes while nodding toward the front where the professor is already prattling on about…well, I’m not exactly sure. I was too distracted.
Focus on class, Chloe. Not some boy who is so far out of your league it’s not even funny. Besides, think about how your parents would feel if they knew you were daydreaming instead of studying.
After my pep talk, I try my hardest to tune in to class, but it’s nearly impossible with Callum’s leg still pressed up against mine and his cologne tickling my nose.