Hit or Miss

Chapter 1

Mia

I’ve been waiting my whole life for this exact moment.

Blinking at the beauty of everything in front of me, I grip the handle of one of my suitcases to help keep me upright.

Hemden University looks more like a church than a school, which makes sense since I’ve been worshipping this place for as long as I can remember.

The gothic arches and dreaming spires glow golden in the mid-September sun, and I’m breathless as I pass through the wrought-iron double gates, easily twice my height.

I can’t believe I’m actually here. A long, long way from Valley Springs, South Carolina.

Everything is exactly how I pictured it, from the old buttermilk-yellow walls of the buildings to the emerald-green grass of the quad, and even though everyone at home said it rains all the time in England, today the sun is shining in a brilliant sky.

It’s like a dream, only better, because I’m pretty sure I’m awake.

Not one hundred per cent certain because, wow, jet lag is real, but as sure as anyone as caffeinated as I am could be.

The coffee was a necessity after waking up, crushed and drooling, in the middle seat of the back row on the night flight from Charlotte to Heathrow.

Not that I care. I’d have swum here if I had to.

After all the hours I’ve spent studying the Hemden prospectus, I know the name of every building by heart and recognize them all as soon as I set eyes on them.

In front of me is the iconic Hazelwood Library, the Goldbeck Theatre stands off to the left, the Lawton building to the right, huge, imposing structures, built hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

Hemden has seen thousands of students come and go, some of the brightest and most brilliant minds ever to have lived.

But right now, in this moment, it’s all mine.

And when I join the swarm of students flowing in through the gates, I can feel myself smiling.

Stepping out of the shadow of my small Southern town and finally standing on my own two feet, I feel like I’ve come home.

Hemden University is where I’m meant to be.

Correction, Carpenter House is where I’m meant to be.

As if choosing to bathe in cologne so strong I’m afraid I’ll still be able to smell it on my deathbed wasn’t bad enough, my generously scented Uber driver also dropped me off in the wrong damn place.

According to the little paper map that came in my orientation packet, Carpenter House, my hall, is at least a ten-minute walk from where I am right now and I don’t know if the wheels on my overloaded suitcases are up to the challenge.

While the ancient flagstones might be charming to look at, I can’t help but feel this is not the kind of terrain Target had in mind during their product development process.

With a frown, I shrug off my favourite cardigan, sadly infected with Eau de Uber Driver, and tuck it through the straps of my backpack, hoping the scent will wash out and I won’t have to burn it on a pyre with a bunch of purifying herbs.

Any other time, any other place, being dropped off in the wrong spot might’ve sent me spiralling but today is different.

Today, I am cool, calm and collected. Today, I am Mia Meyers, twenty years old and ready for adventure, a mature woman who walks into her power with her head held high …

and immediately trips over an unseen object the moment she takes her eyes off the ground.

One second, I’m striding confidently alongside the quad, the next, I’m eating grass. The ground rushes towards me at lightning speed but I manage to fling out my hands just in time to break my fall instead of my face, suitcases crashing down beside me.

Ow ow ow.

All around I hear excited chatter, gasps of surprise and awkward laughter, and I lie still for a moment, wondering if it’s possible to spontaneously combust out of sheer humiliation. Nope, unfortunately not. Looks like I’m going to have to live through this.

‘For fuck’s sake, Bryn! I told you to move that bag. Are you trying to kill someone?’

A sweet, high-pitched voice coloured with frustration sounds out above me and I roll onto my side, looking down to see something green looped around my ankles like a snare.

What the hell? A face that matches the voice moves into sight, blocking out the sun, a girl about my age with an apologetic look on her face.

She’s so pretty, copper-coloured bob, perfect eyeliner, at least one thousand times cooler than me – and that was before I ate shit right in front of her.

‘You all right?’ she asks, hands on her knees, bent over as she inspects me.

I nod and try to speak.

‘I think so.’

I do not think so. I am not all right. Thirty seconds.

That’s how long my cool, calm and collected persona lasted before I fell on my ass.

Trying my very best not to let the tears burning behind my eyes sneak down my cheeks, I carefully prod the grass stain on the knee of my brand-new, too expensive, these-are-the-jeans-that-will-change-your-life jeans and wince.

My first time wearing them and they’ve already failed the assignment.

‘We’re sorry,’ the girl says in a British accent. ‘You’re the third person to trip over that bag today. I bloody well told Bryn to move it.’

The handles of a tote bag, almost the same shade of green as the lawn, unravel themselves from around my ankles and snake backwards across the grass, a sheepish-looking guy with dark eyes and short brown hair dragging the bag away from the scene of the crime.

Behind him sits a semi-circle of strangers, staring at me with a combination of concern and curiosity.

This is not the first impression I dreamed of making.

‘Don’t worry about it, I’m totally okay,’ I lie fast, casually sitting upright as though my knee is not throbbing with excruciating pain. ‘It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

One thing about me, if I can blame myself for something going wrong, even if that thing is indisputably someone else’s fault, you can bet your ass I’ll find a way. Middle child and only daughter, reporting for duty.

The copper-haired girl offers me a smile and even though all I want to do is hobble away to my room, ice my knee until I feel well enough to crawl into a hole and never climb out, I force myself to smile back. This is progress. This is growth.

‘I’m Alice,’ she says, dropping back to the ground and folding her long legs into a sitting position. ‘First day?’

‘What gave it away?’

She hands me the map I didn’t realize I’d lost in all the drama.

‘Most returning students can find their way around without one of these. So, you’re a newbie. Fresher?’

I shake my head, clutching the map.

‘New but not a fresher. Back home I’d be a junior, here I’m in the third year.’

Looking delighted, she pats the ground beside her, an invitation to join the group.

‘Amazing, me too! And I just clocked the accent, you’re American? Come here, tell us everything … name, where are you from, what are you studying? Everything.’

All of her friends turn my way, staring expectantly. Wow. Three minutes and one face-plant later, I’m already more popular at Hemden than I was after two whole years at Marshall College. It almost makes the mind-numbingly painful knee injury worth it. Almost.

‘There’s not that much to tell,’ I say with an uncomfortable half-laugh as I stretch out my injured leg. ‘My name’s Mia, I’m an exchange student from South Carolina and I’m preternaturally clumsy. Truly, Bella Swan before she becomes a vampire clumsy.’

‘God, spoiler alert.’

Alice punches one of her friends in the arm, a tall guy with a mischievous smirk. Even lounging on the lawn he’s huge, with the kind of tan that says he spent the summer outdoors and a set of broad shoulders that scream I play sports, ask me how!

‘Yes, Michael, because it’s only been twenty years since that book came out,’ she says drily before turning back to me. ‘Very cool. The exchange student bit, I mean, not the clumsy part. That’s probably less than ideal.’

She amps up her megawatt grin until it’s almost blinding, then turns to the group of people beside her, pointing out each of them in turn.

‘This cultural vacuum is Michael, feel free to ignore everything he ever says. The idiot who tried to kill you with his bag is Bryn, next to him is Jenna.’ A beyond beautiful Black girl with glowing brown skin and waist-length microbraids raises her hand in a small wave.

‘And last but not least, we have our resident troubadour, Oliver.’

Oh.

My.

God.

Black leather blazer over a vintage-looking T-shirt.

Worn-in jeans and a pair of beat-up Chuck Taylors.

His hair is dark blond and wavy, curling over grey-blue eyes that steal my breath when he glances my way and, in his arms, he’s cradling an acoustic guitar.

Never before in my entire life have I been so envious of an inanimate object.

Oliver.

Time slows down as a sleepy smile lifts his lips and he strums the guitar strings with one hand, effortlessly forming chords with the other.

I can’t hear the tune over the noise in the quad, but it doesn’t matter.

I know whatever he’s playing is beautiful because he’s beautiful.

So self-conscious, I smooth out my dark brown braid, a futile attempt to tame the frizz and flyaways that have been flickering around my face since somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

My mouth is dry, tongue thick and my ability to speak nowhere to be found.

None of my beloved books, not even Shakespeare’s sonnets or love songs, could have prepared me for this moment.

This is love at first sight, it has to be.

Shit. My most loathed of tropes, slapping me right in the face.

At the very least it’s lust at first sight.

Everyone else fades away, knocked back into shadows of themselves as Oliver is pulled into sharp relief.

‘What are you reading?’ asks one of the others. Michael, I think?

‘What am I reading?’ I’m flushing under Oliver’s unwavering gaze, painfully aware how gross and post-plane I must look compared to his cute, cool friends. ‘Oh, you mean what am I studying? English. English lit.’

‘Ah. Same as Oliver.’

Of course. Of course he’s reading English.

I bite my lip and somehow manage to tear my eyes away from him for maybe three seconds.

Has anyone’s mouth ever been so perfect?

Broad and full, one corner crooked upwards, it’s all I can do not to throw myself across the lawn and commit acts of public indecency that I assume are just as illegal in the UK as they are in the US.

‘Well, Mia, as your unofficial Hemden welcoming committee, we need to take you to the union with us,’ Alice says. ‘Bryn owes you a liquid apology for a start.’

‘Really, it was my fault,’ I insist when Bryn blushes. ‘But that sounds like fun. Are all of y’all going along?’

They all confirm, all except for Oliver. He doesn’t say a word, just keeps on strumming his guitar. Maybe he’s shy. Musical, literary, beautiful and shy. Did I bang my head harder than I thought? If this is a dream, I’m more than okay with it.

‘Even if it wasn’t the only place we ever go, tonight’s the first night of Freshers’ Week,’ Jenna assures me. ‘Everyone on campus will be there.’

It’s good enough for me.

‘I’m in,’ I tell them. ‘I just need to drop my bags off in my room first.’ Sucking the air in through my teeth as I rise to my feet, I pull my toppled-over suitcases upright and lean on the handles like crutches. ‘Do any of y’all know the quickest way to Carpenter House?’

Alice raises a hand. ‘I should, I’ve lived there for two years. Which floor are you on?’

‘Third floor, flat A?’

‘Third floor, flat B. You’re right across the hall from me,’ she says, clapping happily.

‘Don’t bother with the map, it’s easy. Stay on this path all the way around that big building over there, that’s Goldbeck, then turn right and keep going until you get to the halls.

You can’t miss them; there are loads of signposts and that for move-in day. They’ve literally put the flags out.’

‘But don’t take too long,’ Michael warns me. ‘I’ve been stone-cold sober all day long and that’s unacceptable for the first day back. Members opens in fifteen minutes, consider your countdown clock started.’

Everyone laughs except Oliver, who only smiles, still watching me so intently I can almost feel his close gaze underneath my clothes, lingering on my skin like a kiss.

‘Ignore them, we’ll wait,’ Alice says as I grip the handles of my suitcases tightly. ‘Take your time.’

‘Ten minutes max,’ I confirm, giving the handles a yank, my sore, skinned palms burning more than ever.

But I’m not about to let a little thing like a shattered kneecap stop me from spending the evening with new friends and potential soulmate.

It’s just like Shakespeare said, the path of true love never did run smooth.

Love and these damn flagstones. Maybe this is where he got his inspiration.

Leaving Alice, Oliver and the others behind, I limp away as fast as I can, which really isn’t very fast at all given my shiny new knee injury and complete lack of upper body strength.

And even though I know it isn’t helpful, I can’t stop myself from replaying every word, every action, every breath, checking and rechecking for unforced errors as I go.

As far as I can tell, their offer to hang out is genuine and even with my unmatched overthinking skills, the worst I can come up with is that this could be a one-off pity hang, an insincere apology to make up for me almost breaking my neck.

But even if that’s what this is, there’s no problem, I’m happy to take it.

The old Mia would’ve been mortified, would have hobbled away, locked herself in her room and never spoken to any of them again but not the new and improved Mia.

That’s why I wanted to come to Hemden after all.

To change things up, do things differently.

I worked so hard to get here, went through so much, but it already feels like all the sacrifices I made, every struggle, every single fight with my folks, was worth it.

With the Goldbeck theatre behind me, I see the signposts and flags Alice mentioned as I make my way towards Carpenter House, more certain than ever.

Hemden University is where I’m meant to be.