Chapter 5 Colton
COLTON
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
What the fuck am I doing here?
I look at the students filing into the small auditorium. They drop into seats with their designer clothes and thousand dollar laptops, talking to each other without a care in the world.
I can’t relate to these people any more than I could relate to the people back home who cared more about the Mountaineers’ football team than what they could learn if they actually went to the team’s college.
I’d been ready to leave Grand Creek behind me when I graduated high school.
Everyone there fell into two categories.
The first group acted like I thought I was better than them because I was going to college.
And the second? They put me on a pedestal—which was worse.
The smart kid who was getting out against all odds; they pinned me with their hopes and dreams but never took the time to know me. An ideal instead of a human being.
But I had the promise of escape and the hope that I’d find my people in college. A hope that’s quickly vanishing as I listen to the guy behind me bitch about his parents because they wouldn’t pay three hundred dollars a month for a parking spot.
I glance back at their bags and down at my backpack, the same one I’ve had since ninth grade. It’s old and faded, but it doesn’t have holes, so I see no reason to replace it. I’m not spending a cent of that scholarship money unless I have to.
I was lucky as hell to get a full ride to such a great school.
I can recognize that, while also recognizing I don’t belong here.
My expectations need to shift. I’ll hunker down in the library for the next four years, get the fuck out of Boston, and help set my mom up in a nicer place.
A place that’s her own, like she’s always wanted.
“Oh my god, I’m so excited about this!” a random blond girl says as she throws herself into the seat next to me. I look around for whatever friend she’s talking to, but there isn’t anyone.
“Are you excited, too?” She’s talking a mile a minute and doesn’t give me time to answer.
“I’ve been dying for this class. Dr. Cassia is, like, my personal hero.
She’s so smart. And did you know she’s actually from Rome?
She grew up around all this stuff we’re gonna talk about.
And a woman. So many of the big names in the field are men, but she kicks so much ass that they all worship her.
And she’s consulted on, like, all the big movies and TV shows about Rome.
Everyone wants to hear what she thinks. It’s, like, the coolest thing ever, right? ”
I stare, dumbstruck by the information dump.
She teases her bottom lip with her teeth, and I realize that this whirlwind of a girl is mind-blowingly hot.
Her long, blond hair falls over her shoulders, and even in her Chadoin sweatshirt and jeans, I can tell she has curves that could stop my heart.
Those wide chocolate eyes are stunning, even though they dart around like she’s looking for an escape route.
“Sorry, not cool?” she asks. “I get overexcited. Sometimes it’s hard to stop the words.”
“My advisor put me in the class.”
God, could I sound more boring?
Her shoulders cave in. “Yeah, of course. That makes sense. Sorry again.”
She faces the front of the auditorium, fiddling with her bag as she scans the room for a different seat. I’m struck by an irrational and overwhelming fear that if this girl walks away from me right now, the rest of my life will be wasted. She lifts her bag, and I panic.
“What movies?”
It comes out too fast and too loud, but at least she hasn’t left yet. She blinks her wide eyes. A slow smile curves her lips, and I find my gaze locked on them. After a beat, she drops her bag back to the ground and turns toward me.
“All of them. I mean, obviously not like Spartacus since she’s not ancient”—What the hell is Spartacus?
But she hardly takes a breath, so I don’t have time to ask—“but modern ones, you know? Do you like movies about ancient Rome? I think they’re so much fun.
My dad and I always watched them growing up, so maybe they hold a special place for me.
But there are other things we do, just the two of us, and the Rome movies are still my favorite, so who knows? What do you do with your dad?”
It’s my turn to blink at her. I don’t know if I can keep up with this girl, but I’ve never wanted to do something more.
“God, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? My brothers tell me I’m a lot. I’m working on it. I can leave you alone. You probably didn’t expect to get cornered by a chatterbox on the first day of class.”
“No,” I cut in, a bit too forcefully. This conversation may be hectic, but it’s the first time since I arrived in Boston that I haven’t been fixated on all the ways I don’t fit in. I’m not ready to give that up, so I take a breath to steady myself. “No, I like hearing you talk.”
She bites her lip to hide her smile, but she can’t keep it from her eyes. They crinkle into perfect crescent moons.
I don’t know exactly what it is. Her stream of consciousness that’s weirdly relaxing?
Her complete, unfiltered excitement to be at Chadoin?
The embarrassment on her face when she thought she talked too much?
But suddenly, I feel like I can breathe again.
Like I’m not the only one adrift in this new and terrifying world.
She’s chaos incarnate, and I want to exist solely in the whirlwind of her enthusiasm.
“Great!” she says. “Because I’m in desperate need of some friends. I don’t know anyone at Chadoin and I can already tell my roommate won’t be my person. So, friends?”
I don’t want to be friends. I want to drag this girl back to my dorm and kiss her until neither of us remember our names. My dick twitches and I try to think of anything I can to stop it. I don’t want to scare her off. And I need friends, too.
“Sure. I’m Colt.”
She reaches over to shake my hand, but before she can tell me her name, Dr. Cassia comes through the side door by the board.
The mystery girl was right. She’s cool. She does all the same syllabus bullshit as every other professor, but she also shows pictures of different sites and tells us stories about the things we’ll learn about that semester.
It’s a frivolous class I’m forced to take to graduate, but it’s the first lecture I’ve sat in that feels inspired.
When she lets us go for the day, my mystery girl twirls to face me.
“That was great, wasn’t it?” She pulls her long blond hair up into a ponytail, and my eyes home in on her graceful neck, leading to the thick, tempting curves of her body.
“This is gonna be the best semester ever. I literally came to Chadoin to learn from Dr. Cassia and I got her in the first semester. I’m going to learn so much from her.
God, I’m hungry. I was late this morning because everyone in my dorm decided to shower at the same time. ”
Don’t picture her in the shower, Colton.
“I didn’t have time to go by the dining hall. I need to find a grocery store to get some breakfast food to keep in my room. Want to go grab lunch, Colt? Oh, shit. I never introduced myself.” She laughs loudly, and I find myself grinning along.
“Don’t worry about it, Chaos,” I say, the nickname slipping from my tongue, and I run a hand over my smile at her indignant face.
She narrows her eyes at me, but a smile plays on her full lips. “It’s Quinn. Quinn Riley.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Chaos.”
She lets out a delighted laugh and nudges me with her shoulder, which only hits about halfway up my biceps. “I’ve never had a nickname before!” She slips her arm through mine, and my stomach jumps at the contact. “So, tell me. You got a state to go with all that twang?”
I fight back the groan climbing up my throat.
I’ve been in Boston for a week and have already heard all the asshole comments about Southern accents.
They think my voice means I’m not as smart as them, which is rich coming from Boston, of all places.
Plus, my accent isn’t even Southern. Not like they care to differentiate anything below the Mason-Dixon line.
I pry my arm out of Quinn’s grasp. “West Virginia.”
She grabs my hand and forces me to face her.
“Did I say something wrong?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal when in reality, this has been eating me up. “People here hate on accents is all.”
“Oh my gosh! I didn’t mean to make you think that!
I don’t have one, but I’m from northern Florida, which is pretty much southern Georgia.
We’ve got plenty of Southern accents there, so it’s like a warm slice of home.
Although yours is different. I couldn’t have placed it, but I guess it’s West Virginia. ”
I fight the twitch of my lips. “Yeah, people lump together the Southern and Appalachian accents, but they’re not the same.”
“Appalachian,” she repeats, mimicking my local pronunciation, biting off the latch like she’s savoring the syllables in her mouth. She smiles that crescent-moon smile again. “I love it. Forgiven?” She looks up at me with hopeful eyes.
“Nothing to forgive, Chaos.”
She loops her arm back through mine and tows me toward the dining hall. When I look down at this hectic, exciting, overwhelming girl, I decide I’ll let her tow me anywhere.