Chapter 2
Stella
There was a used condom on the floor of my bathroom.
Well, the bathroom Summer and I are forced to share in this suite. We were paired as random roommates at the beginning of this year, and I can honestly say that I cannot wait to be rid of her. Maybe that makes me sound bitchy, but she’s the worst roommate I’ve ever had.
I just transferred to St. Augustine at the beginning of the semester due to some unforeseen circumstances back home. It’s the reason I hate party boys like Colton Crosby, actually.
The short version of the story is that at the end of last semester, at a graduation party I was attending with some of my old teammates, I was getting felt up by some drunk sleazebag.
He was grinding on me, trying to “dance” if that’s what you want to call it.
I eventually escaped his clutches, but he wouldn’t let it rest. When I left and got to my car, he followed me.
He pushed me into the side of the vehicle and then threw me onto the ground.
I have no doubt he would’ve tried to do much worse to me.
Fortunately, the car alarm started going off, and he ran away when people came to check out the noise.
I had hit my head on the asphalt, had to get staples, and had a major concussion.
That was four months ago. Now, I don’t go to parties. I’ve decided that they aren’t worth it and, truthfully, they aren’t even all that fun. College boys, with their first taste of freedom, don’t know how to drink—or act—responsibly.
I transferred to escape that environment that brought too many memories. I also left because that guy was never found or charged with anything. The thought of staying at Georgia State and potentially running into him was too much.
St. Augustine offered me a full ride on an academic scholarship out of high school, but I hadn’t taken it because I wanted to be closer to home in Georgia.
However, the dean of admissions here had been happy when I called and told him I was looking to transfer.
After explaining the situation, the staff offered me both their condolences and my original scholarship offer.
I couldn’t pass that deal up, so here I am, in southern Pennsylvania, with a roommate who leaves discarded condoms on the floor.
It’s a rainy, dull Monday afternoon as I walk to the dining hall for some lunch.
I had two quizzes already today, and someone knocked my chai latte off my desk in my first class.
The universe must be picking up the bad vibes I’m giving off.
I’m still floored over yesterday morning’s events, to say the least
Not only did I have to listen to them fucking well into the night, but I also had to babysit Colton Crosby because he was too dumb to plan a ride. Or charge his phone. Or wear his clothes into Summer’s room.
If I hadn’t been so annoyed, maybe I would’ve enjoyed the view of him walking shirtless and sleepy into the kitchen.
With his tall frame, infinite abs, sharp V that disappears into his waistband, dark tousled hair, and a jawline that could cut granite, no one can deny that the man is gorgeous.
Too bad he’s an arrogant asshole who—did I mention? —leaves condoms on the floor.
As for Summer, she isn’t the Antichrist or anything.
She’s just inconsiderate. She leaves her dishes dirty in the kitchen, and she plays her music too loudly when I’m trying to study.
She takes the longest showers known to mankind.
I get home from practice and work late, yet I still have to wait for her before I can take one myself.
As far as I know, Summer was in a sorority before this year. Apparently, a video of her stripping at a frat party went viral, and they kicked her out. Hence why she was in the market for a roommate as a junior.
When I enter the dining hall, I grab a fruit bowl and a bottle of water and find a table in the corner to eat in peace.
Pulling out my phone, I read through the texts being sent in the volleyball team group chat.
The girls are talking about what they want to wear to Rachel’s—one of the seniors on the team’s—birthday dinner this weekend.
“Hey, Stells,” a voice says, drawing my attention from my phone. Nora Carlson, my friend and teammate, plops down in the seat across from me. “How’s it going, girl?”
Nora has that girl-next-door look to her, with her shoulder-length honey-blonde hair and warm brown eyes, she’s the definition of a cutie. She’s the libero on our team, so she’s only five-foot-six, but she’s wicked fast.
We may as well be polar opposites. I’m six feet tall and play middle hitter most of the time. My straight brown hair reaches down to my waist, and I’ve been told I have a raging case of RBF.
I smile at her. “Fine. This weather’s got me in a mood.”
“Please, you were in a mood before you even woke up this morning.” She’s got me there.
I told her about Summer’s hook-up on a video call last night, and all she could do was laugh.
“You got to hear Colton Crosby have sex and then see him in his underwear. Do you know how many girls at this school would kill for a show like that? There’s only so much sympathy I can give you. ”
“I wasn’t even listening to him,” I lie. “I couldn’t hear anything over Summer’s fake ass moans.” I scrunch my nose in disgust.
“No!” Nora’s brows nearly disappear into her hairline. “You think she was faking? With Colton Crosby? I’ve heard he’s, like, a sex god.” Nora steals a strawberry from my bowl and pops it into her mouth.
“Maybe she wasn’t faking, but she was definitely just putting on a show,” I reply. “It wasn’t any different than any other time she brings a guy home. Except at least other guys usually stay in her room, not leave all their stuff all over the dorm.”
“I think you’re just jealous,” she says, smirking at me.
I scoff. “What could I possibly be jealous of?”
“As far as I know, you haven’t had a date, or even a hookup, since you moved here,” she points out.
“One: I am not jealous that Summer slept with Colton Crosby. Two: I just haven’t found anyone who piques my interest. Between class, volleyball, and work, I don’t have time for dating right now.
” I haven’t told any of my teammates, even Nora, about what happened four months ago.
They’ve probably just concluded that I don’t drink and party because I’m religious or something, and are too polite to ask me directly.
“I’m just saying, you’re tense. You need to loosen up and have some fun.
Get a little stress relief. The world will keep on spinning if Stella Anderson takes a night off.
” With that nugget of wisdom, Nora pushes her chair back and stands to go.
“I’ve got to get to the library, I’m meeting someone to work on a presentation. Later, Stells.”
I wave goodbye as she leaves. If I had to pick a best friend here in Pennsylvania, it would be Nora. She’s just the sweetest person. She’s an education major with a focus on teaching special needs.
However, no one can replace my best friend, Josie, from back home. I haven’t seen her since the move. Pulling out my phone, I shoot her a text.
Josie
Me: I can’t wait to see you over fall break!
She doesn’t answer right away, so I put my phone away, finish my food, and head to my next class.
A thump in the chair next to me startles me from my train of thought. Looking up, I see none other than Colton Crosby staring back at me.
“Hi.” He doesn’t sound nervous like he did yesterday morning. His voice is deep and sure, with a slight smile playing on his lips. He’s wearing a St. A’s crewneck that does amazing things for his physique, not that I’m noticing.
I raise my eyebrows at him in lieu of responding.
“I didn’t know you were in this class,” he continues.
The class in question is Advanced Literature, one of the requirements to get your diploma.
I’m on the pre-medical track, so most of my classes are in the science buildings.
This is one of the few classes I have elsewhere.
It’s a large seminar-style class since it’s required for graduation, and there are probably close to a hundred students in here.
It’s no wonder that he never noticed me before.
“You didn’t know me until yesterday,” I reply coolly. Okay, maybe I’m acting like a bitch right now, but come on, this guy can’t seriously think I want to talk to him after yesterday’s encounter. If I were him, I’d never speak to me again out of sheer mortification.
“Well, I would like to apologize again for yesterday. I’m really not that kind of guy most of the time.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but you kind of have a reputation, so forgive me if I don’t buy what you’re selling,” I say, turning back to the front and hoping the professor will show up early.
“What do you mean?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.
“The cocky-jock-man-whore who fucks around and parties without consequence? Yeah, you’ve got that one in the bag, Crosby.”
The look on his face is almost enough to make me reconsider my words. He looks like I just drop-kicked his dog. However, actions don’t lie, and yesterday’s actions speak volumes. Remember the condom, Stella.
I hate that men like him put me on the defensive, making me act like someone I’m not.
Without saying anything else, Colton moves to another seat, leaving me to wonder if I’m the first person to ever tell Colton Crosby the hard, ugly truth.