CHAPTER 3
LANDRY
My head throbbed mercilessly, a sharp reminder of my Sunday indulgence. Why had I let myself get so carried away? Note to self: this cannot become a habit, especially with classes waiting to punish me for my recklessness. Thankfully, Mondays were my easiest days—just two classes: Communications Studies and European Literature. For once, I patted my past self on the back for scheduling wisely.
When planning my semester, I’d strategically loaded most of my coursework into the middle of the week, leaving Mondays and Fridays as lighter, more manageable days. Sure, the evening classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays weren’t ideal, but the trade-off of half-days on both ends of the week? Totally worth it. Today, though, even an easy schedule felt impossible.
This morning, I traded my usual getting-ready routine for a few extra minutes in bed. Sleep still clung to me, and the thought of putting effort into my appearance felt more exhausting than worth it. Instead, I decided on a messy bun and skipped the makeup altogether. Priorities.
The sun streamed mercilessly through my blinds, a glaring reminder of my poor decision not to buy curtains this past weekend. With a groan, I made a mental note to check if Amazon delivered out here. If not, I’d have to muster the courage to drive into town—a prospect that instantly made my stomach churn. Driving wasn’t something I did unless absolutely necessary. Not since the accident in January.
It had happened not far from here, just a few miles from campus. One moment, everything was normal. The next, I was waking up in the hospital, being informed that my mom was gone. It had taken months to even sit in the driver’s seat again, and though I could do it now if I had no other choice, I avoided it whenever possible. Some wounds didn’t heal with time—they just lingered, quiet but ever-present, waiting to remind you of what you’d lost.
I hit snooze a few more times before finally dragging myself into my closet and grabbing the first oversized T-shirt and pair of gym shorts within reach. Function over fashion—it was way too early to care.
I was definitely not a morning person, and days like this only made me wish I could turn to coffee for some much-needed help. I had stopped all caffeine a while back when I started noticing that it would make my anxiety a million times worse throughout the day, sometimes even causing panic attacks for no reason other than the accelerated heart rate. I was just going to have to raw-dog it today and suffer through the hangover.
Desperate for food, I made a quick detour on my way to Communications, veering into the food court to grab a bag of Takis from the convenience store. There was no time to wait in line for anything made-to-order—I was already running late, and my stomach was protesting too loudly to care about a balanced breakfast. Spicy snacks were the ultimate hangover cure anyway, a theory I would swear by until the end of time.
I made it to class with seconds to spare, the massive auditorium already buzzing with the chatter of a hundred or so students. I quickly slid into one of the only open seats at the end of the second row, deliberately avoiding the steep steps leading to the upper rows. The last thing I needed was to trip and draw more attention to my half-asleep, disheveled state.
As I pulled my MacBook from my backpack, a strange sensation crept up my spine—the unmistakable prickling awareness of being watched. Which I understood must have sounded crazy considering the number of students in the room, but I could have sworn that somewhere, there was a set of eyes burning into the back of my head. I tried to shake it off, but the feeling persisted, gnawing at the edges of my focus.
Unable to ignore it any longer, I faked a casual stretch, using the motion as an excuse to glance over my shoulder. My stomach dropped. Locked onto me from across the room was a pair of piercing green eyes, their intensity unmistakable. Cashton.
Of course, he would be here. Because apparently, the universe decided today wasn’t bad enough already.
I hadn’t noticed him last week, but that was probably because only freshmen bothered showing up during syllabus week—a fact Olivia had casually mentioned over the weekend. Judging by the now-packed auditorium, it seemed she was right. Even so, I was certain I would have noticed him if he’d been here. With his towering frame, sharp features, and the air of intensity that seemed to follow him like a shadow, he was the kind of presence you couldn’t overlook, no matter how hard you tried.
Wetness immediately pooled between my legs remembering the last time our eyes had been locked like this, his dick down some girl’s throat, and heat quickly spread across my face as I remembered how I had touched myself with him in mind.
I refused to shrink under his murderous gaze, instead meeting it head-on with a glare of my own. Cashton was sitting with a group of guys I didn’t recognize, the blond beside him clearly oblivious to the way his attention was locked elsewhere. Thankfully, Professor Lee chose that moment to sweep into the room, her commanding presence breaking the tension and giving me the perfect excuse to turn back around.
I made a point of appearing unbothered as I opened my laptop, ready to take notes. My focus stayed on Professor Lee as she launched into her lecture, but keeping my composure felt like an uphill battle. I allowed myself one glance—just one—when she stepped out of the room for a moment. My eyes flicked sideways, and there he was, laughing with his friends as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
It was strange seeing him like that—relaxed, smiling, those damn dimples on full display. The casual charm radiating off him was a jarring contrast to the sharp hostility he’d directed at me yesterday. It made something in my chest twist in a way I didn’t care to examine .
But if Cashton wanted to hate me for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom, fine. Two could play that game. I’d be steering as far clear of him as possible.
I made my way to the Founder’s Fountain to meet up with Bexley before our next class. Her long, strawberry-red hair was neatly braided over one shoulder, and her nose was buried in a textbook, as usual. I was grateful to have at least one class with her this semester. Most of her schedule was packed with upper-level science courses, thanks to all the college credits she’d racked up during high school.
Bexley studied harder than anyone I’d ever met, and her discipline was something I couldn’t help but envy. While my high school years were a whirlwind of social events and last-minute cramming, hers had been laser-focused on academics and training her horses. That dedication paid off—Bexley not only had a clear career path in mind but was already working toward it. Her passion for Microbiology radiated whenever she talked about it.
Meanwhile, I had settled on Communications as a major, more because it felt like a safe bet than anything else. I wasn’t quite sure where it would lead, but I figured I had four years to sort that out.
Bexley looked up as I approached, her hazel eyes lighting up as she set her textbook aside. I slid onto the edge of the fountain next to her, relieved to take a breather from my chaotic morning.
“Hey! Did you see Olivia’s text in the group chat?” Bexley greeted me with excitement as I approached .
“Not yet. What does it say?” I asked, pulling out my phone, realizing I’d ignored it during my last class to avoid distractions.
“She wants to know if we’re up for a homemade pizza and wine night at her house this weekend. TJ and Nate will be out of town for the away game, so it’ll just be us girls. She said we can hang out by the pool all day and even stay the night—she offered to set us up in the guest bedrooms.” Bexley’s eyes sparkled.
“Yes of course!” I grinned. “We could definitely use a girl’s night.”
The weekend at Olivia’s sounded like the perfect opportunity to casually bring up Cashton and figure out if she knew what his problem with me was. I hadn’t mentioned him to either her or Bexley yet, mostly because we’d all crashed hard after getting home yesterday. But with Cashton living with Zayn and Kaptan, it was almost a guarantee that we would be around each other at some point or another.
Hopefully, whatever grudge he seemed to have against me would have subsided by then.
By the time we wrapped up our class, the dull throb of my headache had mostly faded. Feeling somewhat human again, Bexley and I decided on a quick lunch at the canteen before going our separate ways. She headed toward the science labs, her bag slung over one shoulder, while I turned toward our apartment with one singular goal in mind: crawling back into bed.
The hours spent baking in the sun yesterday had drained me completely, and I wasn’t about to fight the fatigue. As soon as I got home, I threw on some comfort reruns of my favorite show, the familiar dialogue playing softly in the background as I settled under my comforter. Within minutes, I’d drifted off, surrendering the rest of the afternoon to blissful, uninterrupted sleep.
—
“He did WHAT?” I asked, dumbfounded. “I’m telling you, it was so hot. Bexley agrees with me too! Girl, you really need to give it a try. Don’t knock it until you read it!” Olivia replied.
It was Saturday night, the week having flown by thanks to packed classes and studying. The day had been spent lounging by Olivia’s pool, the faint burn on my shoulders and the rosy flush across my cheeks deepening each time I caught my reflection. Just as planned, we each crafted our own personal pizzas under the guidance of Olivia’s self-taught pizza-making expertise—something she’d proudly honed after a week of YouTube tutorials.
Olivia had also gotten each of us matching cream satin pajama sets for the occasion, which we had changed into after each showering.
The pizzas were now baking in the oven, filling her sprawling kitchen with the comforting aroma of melted cheese and crispy crusts. Glasses of wine in hand, the three of us lingered around the island, chatting and laughing.
Bexley, still not much of a drinker, had a glass of rosé she was nursing cautiously. She’d grown more confident and outgoing over the last couple of weeks, surprising both Olivia and I. The biggest shock, however, had been learning about her taste in books. Behind her sweet, quiet demeanor was someone who devoured stories as wild and unhinged as the ones Olivia loved. It was a revelation I would’ve never guessed.
“Okay, okay, fine!” I conceded. “I’ll give it a try. One of you lend me a beginner one and I’ll start it tomorrow, promise.”
“Or we could just throw you directly into the deep end, that would be way more fun.” Olivia laughed, winking at Bexley as I rolled my eyes at my friend.
Night had fallen, and the golden light of sunset that had filtered through the floor-to-ceiling kitchen windows was now replaced by the soft glow of the pendant lights above the massive ten-seater island. The space felt even larger tonight, starkly contrasting the chaos of last Sunday’s party, when cups and bottles had cluttered every inch of the countertop. My mind wandered back to that day—and to Cashton.
Taking advantage of a lull in conversation, I turned to Olivia, keeping my tone casual as I asked, “So, tell me more about the guys—How did you meet all of them?”
Olivia’s face lit up as she started talking. She’d already told me about meeting TJ at a party last year, and how a one-night stand had unexpectedly blossomed into the solid relationship they had now. I nodded along, familiar with that part of the story, but leaned in as she moved on to the others.
I knew TJ and Nate pretty well by now, thanks to all the lunches we’d shared on campus. But when it came to Zayn, Kaptan, and Cashton, my knowledge was patchy—just surface-level details from last weekend.
“Well, Zayn and Kaptan are brothers. Zayn is a sophomore like me, and Kap’s a junior. Nate has known them since they were kids—He’s practically the third brother. They were all neighbors since, like, elementary school I’m pretty sure. And then obviously Nate and TJ met last year on the lacrosse team and have been best buds since then. And then I’m pretty sure that Kaptan and Cashton were roommates their freshman year, and then got their house together last year when they could move off of campus. Zayn just moved in with them at the beginning of the school year.”
My mind latched onto Cashton’s name, but I kept my expression neutral. I needed a way to get Olivia to spill more about him without making it obvious that he was the one that I was curious about.
“So, what’s all of their deals?” I pushed as Olivia took another sip of her Pinot Grigio.
“Why do you ask? Do you fancy one of them or something?” She teased offering me a less than subtle wink. “Because other than TJ, I’m pretty sure they’re all single! Which one are you into? Oh my gosh you have to tell me!”
Both girls turned their all of their focus on me expectantly, awaiting a juicy answer. I tried to keep myself composed and prayed that my face didn’t give me away.
“No! I mean, I literally just met them—I don’t know anything about them,” I argued, hoping they’d let it go.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be into one of them! Come on, have you seen them? They’re all insanely hot. I wouldn’t blame you one bit,” Olivia pressed with a sly grin.
When I stayed silent, refusing to take the bait, Olivia leaned in, her persistence unwavering.
“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily. Spill! Oh my gosh, is it Nate? Or Zayn? I mean with the dark hair and tattoos, I definitely wouldn’t blame you. And that lip ring? Hot! I know for a fact that he does sleep around though, so I definitely wouldn’t go after him unless you’re just looking for some crazy good sex. He’s said himself that he avoids commitment like the plague. That tongue ring though? Just imagine what he could do with that.”
She kept going before I could offer any sort of response. “Or Kaptan and those yummy muscles? Absolutely. Plus, he’s got that whole mysterious and broody thing going on. I bet it’s him, isn’t it? I’m not really sure what his type is, he tends to keep his love life to himself. But have you seen yourself? Girl, you’re every guy’s type!”
Of course, the only one that I had been dying for information about was the only one she had yet to bring up. Thankfully, Bexley does it for me, offering a cheeky glance in my direction before asking “What about Cashton?”
God, I hoped she wasn’t onto me. Then again, these were my best friends, and I wouldn’t put it past them to see right through me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything—not yet. I needed to figure out what exactly was going on with Cashton before speaking on it.
“Cash? He’s the greatest! And have you seen how crazy tall he is? You could totally climb that like a tree. I think he’s been messing around with that bitch Courtney though, but I know as a fact he doesn’t actually like her. He’s constantly avoiding her and talking about how annoying she is.”
That must have been the girl I walked in on him with.
“He’s a really good friend, I’ve definitely gone to him for advice more than once. I could totally see him being a great boyfriend whenever he finally decides to settle down though!” She winks at me .
“I get the impression that he isn’t my biggest fan” I admit. They must have both remembered his snarky comments from our hot tub introduction because understanding took over their features. There was a brief silence as Olivia seemed to consider this before speaking again.
“I’m not sure what his deal was last weekend. I’ve never seen him behave like that, he’s usually his playful and flirty self. Maybe he was just in a bad mood? Like, maybe something pissed him off earlier that day and he just took it out on you by accident? Or maybe he didn’t mean for it to be rude and we’re just overthinking it!”
“It seemed like it was only directed at me though” I countered.
The oven timer sounded and Olivia hopped down to go check on our pizzas.
“Well then how about next weekend we make sure to get you guys alone for a few minutes and you can talk to him! Right Bex?” She proposed, Bexley agreeing with her.
If only they had seen how it had gone the last time that I had tried clearing the air with him. But maybe they were right, and maybe he would have calmed down enough by then to have a civil conversation.
I didn’t need Cashton to be my best friend, but the thought of him disliking me forever left a knot in my stomach. All I wanted was to coexist with him, to feel like I belonged in the same spaces he occupied, without the constant undercurrent of tension.
But maybe getting to speak with him could help me, at the very least, understand him better. And maybe if we could understand each other better, he could see that I’m not the person he seems to think of me as.
“What about you Bex, see anything you like?” Olivia prodded, mischief gleaming in her eyes.
Bexley’s face instantly turned a soft shade of red under her freckles, her pale tones making the bright blush evident.
“Not really.” She replied, tucking a loose wave behind her ear.
“Oh, common girl!” Olivia pushed, “There’s got to be someone that’s caught your eye. Even if you don’t want anything serious, we’ve all gotta get laid every once in a while. For our health, ya know? Like ferrets. Did you know that ferrets die if they don’t have sex for too long? Like, no joke. Which is precisely why ferrets are my spirit animals.”
Bexley and I exploded into laughter, spilling a bit of wine in the process.
“You can’t be serious.” I said once I could finally catch my breath.
“Dead serious, look it up if you don’t believe me!”
If that were true and it applied to humans, I would probably be six feet under right about now. I wasn’t a virgin, but it had been almost two years since I had been touched by anybody other than myself.
Not that the underwhelming few experiences with my high school boyfriend were much to speak on. Maybe that’s precisely what I needed. It might explain why I found myself soaked half of the time when Cashton came across my mind. I just needed to get laid and it would fix my little issue.
“When’s the last time either of y’all have even had sex?” Olivia asked as we dug into the pizza .
“Way too long.” I responded between mouthfuls, “Unless masturbating counts.”
Olivia looked genuinely dumbfounded.
“Girl don’t look at me like that, we just moved in literally like two weeks ago! And you know that I was in no shape to sleep with anyone near the end of senior year, I didn’t even talk to anybody but you after the accident. I would have ended up crying on some dude’s dick.”
Olivia gave me a look that said touché before turning back to Bexley. “What about you?”
If I had thought that the blush across her cheeks couldn’t have gotten any brighter, I was wrong. Bexley kept her attention on her wine glass as she brought it up to her lips, refusing to respond.
“Bexley?” Olivia cautiously asked, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
Bexley’s lack of response was telling enough.
“Oh my gosh you are!” Olivia screeched.
I quickly composed myself, morphing my laugh into a cough.
“Which is totally fine.” I defended, “Good for you, girl! Trust me, sex is overrated anyways.”
Olivia snapped her head to me at that. “Okay, now you’re pushing it.” she laughed, “Sex is so not overrated.”
“Well, if my past experiences were any indicator of what sex should be like, it really is totally overrated. All I’m saying is that my fingers and my vibrator can do the job ten times better with much less of a hassle.” I argued before shoving a piece of pizza into my mouth.
Olivia shook her head, not seeming to process the information that she had just received from the both of us .
“Okay, first of all- Bex, it’s totally cool that you haven’t had sex. It just means that you have something to look forward to in the future! And besides, guys love virgins. Second of all—Landry, you’ve only been with one guy in high school, fuck that. You’ve obviously never had great sex and I am so, so sorry but we’re for sure going to be fixing that. Hey, maybe we haven’t considered that Cash may have just been so taken aback by your insane beauty that it caught him off guard and he was scared. Maybe being rude was his defense mechanism!”
“Right.” I responded, rolling my eyes and downing what was left in my glass. Olivia shrugged, pulling her light-brown hair back into a messy low bun similar to my own.
“I mean look at you. I don’t care what his deal is, if you walked up to him right now and said ‘ Hey Cash, I would like you to fuck me, please and thank you’ he would literally probably drool and then proceed to give you the best dicking-down you’ve ever received. I’m just saying, there’s gotta be a reason the girls are always swooning all over him. Word spreads around campus.”
Though the thought was ludicrous, the warmth spreading at my core proved that my body wasn’t as opposed to the idea. Dammit, I really needed to pull myself together. I just laughed and shook my head at her, not finding the words I needed to retort.
“We’ll find a guy for you too, Bex.” Olivia finally pulled her attention from me and back to a mortified Bexley.
“It’s not that I haven’t been wanting to. I’m not a prude or anything, I mean you guys know what type of books I read.” she argued, “It’s just that in high school, I didn’t spend much time around boys outside of school. And even if I had wanted to, Carson would have scared them away.”
Bexley had mentioned her older brother a few times since we moved in together. Apparently, he was a junior here at Ivybrook along with being on the lacrosse team with TJ and Nate.
“A part of me wants to just get it over with and have a no-strings attached hookup,” she continued, “but it’s been so long that I’m just a little bit scared is all. And I wouldn’t even know the first thing about approaching a guy. I’m just going to let it happen when it happens and not force it.”
“Good for you Bex.” I reassured, giving her a genuine smile, “Just let it come naturally.”
The conversation naturally shifted to the latest season of Bridgerton , which led us to migrate to Olivia’s home theater to binge-watch it together. Bexley passionately defended the first season with Daphne and the Duke as her all-time favorite, while I argued that the second season with Kate and Anthony had far more depth and chemistry.
At some point around midnight, we’d indulged in ice cream sundaes, each of us trying to outdo the other in creativity.
Not to brag, but mine had turned out so good it could rival JoAnne’s—our estate’s cook who used to spoil me with sweets as a kid.
Thinking about that now, I couldn’t help but wonder if Cashton would add my childhood privileges to his growing list of reasons to hate me if he ever found out. It wasn’t like I’d asked to be born into money.
And despite what he might think, I was fully aware of just how fortunate I was. If there was one lesson my mother had drilled into me, it was this: Treat the janitor with the same respect you’d give the CEO. That philosophy was something I clung to, even when it felt like others assumed the worst about me.
And maybe that’s why his words had cut me so deep the other day. Because I strived so much to be more like my mother and to adopt her kind and caring soul. It was always the thing I had admired most about her. But the annoying voice inside of my head always came back to the fact that maybe he wasn’t wrong after all. And I didn’t think that I was ready to entertain that possibility.
And although I knew that the only opinions that should matter were the ones of my friends that actually knew me, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I might never live up to the person that I wanted so badly to be.
I tried so hard every day to be a good friend—a kind friend. A good person. And yet, no matter how much effort I poured into being someone I could be proud of, I couldn’t stop myself from being affected by the careless words of a complete stranger.
That was the shitty thing about anxiety. You couldn’t just turn it off or shut it down. It was insidious—a parasite that latched onto the tiniest scraps of doubt or fear and grew until it swallowed every thought whole.
It felt like having a personal bully rooted deep in my mind. Most of the time, it stayed quiet when I was surrounded by others, and I had learned how to shove it aside when I was alone. But if I were honest with myself—and if I’d ever actually gone to the therapist that my doctor had recommended—I was sure they’d say my need for constant stimulation was just another way of keeping it at bay. Whether it was TV, music, podcasts, or audiobooks, I always needed background noise when I was alone. It was the only thing that could drown out the endless cycle of bad thoughts.
The movie had ended, and the theater screen was frozen on the question: Are you still watching? My friends were sprawled across the couches on either side of me, their soft snores filling the air. I picked up the remote and put on a lighthearted chick flick—something mindless and familiar that I could fall asleep to.
Everyone was always nagging me about not being a morning person, but they didn’t know the whole story. Late nights like this one, where my mind raced relentlessly and sleep felt so far out of reach, were the real reason I struggled to wake up.
So, I stayed there, lying in the dim glow of the screen, watching early 2000s rom-coms until, at last, my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off into the kind of rest I desperately needed.