Bear Roberts

Chapter One

Danny’s POV

I moan as the warm, rich liquid slid down my throat.

Across the small table at Starbucks, Stacey gives me a look of pure, unadulterated judgment.

“Let’s head to class before you decide to make love to that cup,” she says, leaning back in her chair.

I huff, taking one last defensive gulp before following her out the door. The crisp morning air hits us as we cross the street toward the Cornell campus.

This was my second year, and I was majoring in Marketing. While some people stumbled into the major blindly, I had a very specific blueprint for my life: I wanted to own my own makeup store. I knew exactly how it sounded—like every other girl who grew up glued to YouTube—but I’d been dreaming about this since I was ten years old, watching NikkieTutorials in my childhood bedroom. Marketing was my toolkit. It was how I’d learn to understand my future customers, build a brand, and navigate the business world.

Stacey and I actually met in our introductory marketing lecture. She had a completely different motivation; she was inheriting her dad’s business.

“It’s a pretty solid setup,” she’d told me back then. He sold cars. Not glamorous, but lucrative.

“Danny,” Stacey says, clicking her fingers sharply in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts as we take our seats in the lecture hall.

“What?” I murmur, blinking and turning toward her.

“How’s the apartment going?” she asks, a knowing, slightly mischievous giggle escaping her.

I roll my eyes at her drama, but I couldn’t entirely hide my smile. I had recently taken the plunge, moving out of my mom’s place and into an apartment with my boyfriend, Jason. Come this June, we’d been together for three whole years. He’d been a little distant lately—a bit distracted, a bit tense—but I thought I knew why.

I was almost certain he was going to propose.

I was trying desperately not to get my hopes up, but who was I kidding? They were already through the roof.

“It’s good,” I answer, keeping my voice casual. “Though he seriously needs to fix the shower pipes.”

Stacey let out a dramatic huff. “I bet you’re getting all the action you want. Meanwhile, I am stuck in a brutal three-month dry spell.”

I force a giggle, but a cold weight drops into my stomach. Inside, I felt exactly like she did. Jason hadn’t touched me in weeks.

“I told you, I could easily set you up with one of Jason’s friends,” I offer, trying to deflect from my own reality.

“Those guys are total dicks,” Stacey mutters, leaning her chin on her hand.

“Fair point,” I admit.

“Plus, there’s no way in hell I’m bringing someone back to my parents’ house. That’s just embarrassing.”

“Am I late?”

We both look up to see our other close friend, Olivia, sliding into the row. Her hair was thrown into a chaotic, messy bun, and she was drowning in an oversized tank top and gray sweatpants. Essentially, she had rolled out of bed and walked straight to campus.

“You’re good, the professor isn’t even here yet,” Stacey reassures her.

Olivia collapses into the seat beside me with a heavy groan. “My roommate is an actual nightmare,” she laments. “She blares Green Day albums at two in the morning. I haven’t slept in days.”

“Just look for a new place,” I suggest. “There are heaps of listings on the campus bulletin board.”

Olivia hisses under her breath. “Have you seen the freaks advertising on there? No thank you.”

“It’s just a room,” I counter gently.

“Easy for you to say,” Olivia mutters, shifting her notebook. “You’re lucky. You have a boyfriend to live with.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and offer a weak smile. I guess I was.

----

Around 5:00 PM, I stumble through the front door of the apartment, my arms aching under the weight of two heavy grocery bags. I wasn’t expecting Jason to be home; his schedule with the football scholarship kept him running drills until late evening.

I drop the bags onto the kitchen counter and started unpacking a carton of milk when a sound stops me cold.

It was a rhythmic, heavy creaking noise. Coming straight from our bedroom.

That’s weird, I think, my brow furrowing.

I freeze, holding my breath, hoping it was just the old pipes or the neighbors upstairs. But the creaking only grew louder, accompanied by a sound that made my blood run instantly cold.

“Fuck, Jason...” a woman moans.

My heart violently hammers against my ribs. Blind fury and sheer panic take over. I march down the short hallway and bust the bedroom door wide open.

The image that greets me burns itself into my retinas. I want to vomit. In fact, my stomach violently revolts, and I actually had to clutch the doorframe to keep from vomiting right there on the carpet.

Jason bolts upright, throwing himself off the mattress and scrambling toward me, his hands raised in panic. “Danny, baby, listen to me—”

“You’re fucking my mother?!” I explode, the words tearing out of my throat in a shattered scream.

My mother. Who was currently sprawling out on my bed sheets, completely naked, casually propping herself up on an elbow. She didn’t look guilty. She just shrugs.

“She came onto me,” Jason stammers, his eyes wide as he looks for an escape route. “I—I didn’t know what to do!”

A wild, manic laugh rips from my chest. It was entirely devoid of humor. “Maybe not fuck her?!”

“Your mom is hot, Danny!” Jason blurts out, as if that were a valid legal defense.

“I am going to be sick,” I whisper, pressing a hand over my mouth.

“But I still love you,” he insists, taking a step closer, completely unbothered by his own hypocrisy. “We can still make this work. We can still be together.”

I laugh again, a sharp, choked sound. “You think I still want to be with you? After finding you buried in my mother?”

“Sweetie, Jason is good for you,” my mom chimes in, finally deciding to stand up from the bed. She didn’t even grab a towel. She just stood there, completely unbothered by her own nudity.

“Good enough for you to fuck him, apparently,” I spat, the disgust dripping from every syllable.

“Honey, it’s okay to share,” she says smoothly, as if she were lecturing me on dividing up childhood toys.

“Both of you are sick,” I snap, backing away from them as tears finally flood my eyes, blurring the horrific scene. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

I spin on my heel, sprint out of the apartment, and practically threw myself into my car. My hands shake so violently I could barely turn the key in the ignition. I peel out of the parking lot, driving purely on adrenaline and muscle memory toward the only safe place I could think of: Olivia’s apartment complex.

I practically threw my weight against her front door, pounding on the wood until it swings open. Olivia’s roommate, Ying, stood there blinking at me.

“Is Olivia here?” I choke out.

Ying nods, her eyes widening at the state of me, and steps aside. I blew past her, storming down the hall to Olivia’s room and throwing the door open. She was slumped over her desk, surrounded by highlighters and textbooks.

The moment she looks up and saw my face, the dam broke. I collapse forward.

Olivia was on her feet in a second, catching me before I hit the floor and pulling me tightly against her. “What happened? Hey, talk to me,” she murmurs gently, rubbing soothing circles into my back as I sob uncontrollably into her shoulder.

“Jason... Jason was cheating on me,” I wail, the betrayal cutting through me like a physical blade.

I feel Olivia’s posture instantly stiffen. “With whom?” she growls, her voice dropping an octave. “Who was it, Danny?”

My stomach did another violent flip. The room spins, and I violently rip myself away from her, lunging toward the plastic trash can by her desk. I fell to my knees and threw up, dry-heaving until my throat burns.

Olivia was right there beside me, pulling my hair back and gently patting my back. “Who was it?” she asks softly, her voice laced with quiet fury.

I wipe my mouth with the back of a trembling hand and lean back against her bed. “My mother,” I croak.

From the doorway, Ying leans against the frame, a stunned expression on her face before it melted into a dark, disbelief-filled chuckle.

“Holy shit,” Ying mutters, shaking her head. “That would fucking suck.”

I let out a long, exhausted sigh, staring at the ceiling.

Thanks, Ying. Really helpful.