Charity Case

Finally, I'm here.

Halloran.

The only college I ever wanted. After years of sleepless nights, scholarship essays, and ramen dinners, I actually got in.

Me, Theo Marlowe, with a full ride.

The campus is all heavy brick and old stone, ivy crawling up walls older than my entire family tree.

Students stroll past like they own every inch of it. Maybe they do. Halloran isn't just a college, it's the college, home to rich brats, legacy names, and more beautiful men than any one campus should be allowed to have.

I tighten my grip on the suitcase, hitch the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, and walk through the main gates.

People stare. Of course they do. A nerd with glasses and curly hair, in a decent-but-not-great outfit, dragging a suitcase and clutching a secondhand laptop like it's a newborn, doesn't exactly blend in here.

I'd love to say I don't care. I'd also love to say I'm not nervous. But it's written all over my face, and both are fucking lies.

I know how people like this treat guys like me, especially guys who like guys. I've been taught that lesson my whole life. So my plan is simple: keep my head down until I know where the landmines are.

Ring ring.

And there it is. Mom, right on schedule. I keep my eyes on the path and pick up.

"For the fifth time, Mom, I'm fine."

"You didn't call me, Theo. You said you'd call as soon as you got there."

"I did. Twelve minutes ago. You told me to get settled first, meet some people, and then tell you about my whole day." I smile despite her worry. "It's a big place, Mom. It takes a while just to find the right building."

"Okay, okay. It's just..." She pauses, and I can already picture the guilt washing over her face. "I wish I could be there with you. I never wanted you to go alone. If this double shift hadn't..."

"Mom, I know." My voice comes out low, but honest. "You have work, and it matters. I wouldn't ask you for anything more. You need it, so go do it."

"Are you sure you're okay, sweetheart?"

"Pretty sure."

"Okay. Well, I won't keep you from enjoying the view, and I'll try very hard not to call again in five minutes. Be safe, my love. Tell me if anything happens. I love you."

"I love you too."

We hang up, and I realize that somewhere between the pep talks and goodbyes, I've walked straight to the reception doors.

The woman at the desk doesn't even look up until I'm standing right in front of her. No smile, no welcome aboard, not even a hurry up so I can go home. Honestly, I'd take either. Finally, she gives me one flat glance and says, "Theo Marlowe. Third building, first floor, seventh door on the right."

And that's it.

Is this how rich people treat not-so-rich people? Cliché.

I grab my bags again and head for the dorms. The third building looks like all the others: the same ivy, the same old stone, the same money that doesn't look at me.

When I finally reach my room and open the door, I'm hit by a wall of heavy metal. Posters cover the left side of the room.

In the middle of it all, a guy in a tank top, with arms the size of two giant, veiny dicks, jumps up and down like his life depends on the song.

"Hey," I call out. He doesn't hear me. "Hey, can you... I'm your new roommate."

Nothing. My short temper wins.

"Hey! I'm your fucking roommate!"

That does it. He cuts the volume, turns, and looks at me like I just handed him a gift.

"I like the energy, dude! What's up!" He's grinning from ear to ear, and before I can offer a handshake, he pulls me into a hug that lifts my feet off the floor. "I'm so stoked to finally meet you, scholarship king. Teddy. Teddy Bell."

"Scholarship king?"

I ask, because what the actual fuck is a scholarship king?

"You don't know? Or you're playing dumb?"

"I... genuinely don't."

"Dude." He sets me down. "This university doesn't give out scholarships unless they see real talent. It's brutal. Even kids with old money can't pass the tests, and you cracked the hardest one."

He says it with so much enthusiasm, it's contagious. People with energy like his are rare.

"Are you a scholarship king too?"

"Me? Oh, fuck no. I'm just a guy with good grades who got lucky. Come on, let me help you settle in."

"You don't have to..." But he's already taken my bags and suitcase out of my hands and dropped them on the empty side of the room.

"I can give you a tour, if you want. There's a lot to see. Only if you want, though. Totally fine if you don't."

I should say no. Not because I don't want to, but because this place wasn't built for people like me. I can feel the power coming off the grounds like heat off a stone.

"Sure," I hear myself say. "I'd love a tour."

"Cool. Unpacking later, touring first. Let's go."

And I instantly regret saying sure.

Teddy talks the entire time. I don't think he even breathes.

"Okay, so that's the quad," he says, spinning backward down the path with his arms wide, like he's personally responsible for the grass. "Do not sit on the center lawn. It's for photos, graduations, and legacy kids who think they're in a catalog."

"What happens if I sit on it?"

"Nothing. You'll just feel everyone's eyes on you for the rest of the semester."

"So, same as walking through the gates."

He laughs so loud that a girl on a bench flinches. "Oh, I like you. You're gonna be fun."

We pass a library with huge arched windows, a lecture hall with columns I'm pretty sure are only there to intimidate people, and a stone building with a bronze plaque beside the door.

I slow down to read it. CRANE HALL. Gift of the Crane Family Foundation.

"Crane," I say. "Like, the Crane scholarships?"

"Mm-hm. Your scholarship, actually. The Crane Foundation pays for the whole program." Teddy waves a hand at the plaque, unimpressed. "Their name's on half of this place. If something's nice, there's a Crane on it."

I look at the plaque a second longer. I've been grateful to that name for months. It's weird to see it carved in metal, like it's been watching me from the wall.

"And over there," Teddy goes on, pointing across the lawn to a long, polished brick building with a doorman, an actual doorman, standing outside, "is Whitmore Hall. That's where the old-money crowd lives. Single rooms, fireplaces, probably a butler for each floor."

"Does it actually have a butler?"

"Nah, but I bet if you asked nicely, someone would iron your socks."

"And the river?"

"The boathouse. The Rowing Club runs it, which is basically a cult in expensive shorts." He squints at the water. "Don't go over there unless you're invited."

"How would I even get invited?"

"You wouldn't. Ever."

I laugh, and he grins, pleased with himself, and for a few minutes I forget to feel like a visitor.

At the cart by the library steps, Teddy buys two coffees before I can reach for my wallet. "First one's on me, scholarship king."

"You can't keep calling me that."

"Watch me." He hands me a cup. "Okay, so there's this professor, Dr. Ortiz, who gives a pop quiz on the first day, no joke. First day! I heard he did it last year and a girl cried into her own sleeve..."

He's mid-story, doing the voices, and I'm laughing so hard my glasses slip down my nose. I'm walking sideways, trying to look at him and push them up with my elbow at the same time, because both hands are full.

That's my mistake.

I don't see the guy until I walk straight into him.

It happens in slow motion. The cup hits his chest first, the lid pops off, and a full wave of hot coffee goes all the way down the front of a black leather jacket.

"Shit. Shit. I'm so sorry..."

The group around him goes completely silent.

He's tall, taller than me by a few inches, with dark hair that's perfectly messy in the way that takes effort. His jaw is sharp, his shoulders are squared, and his eyes, which are a cold, pale shade I can't name, go from the stain on his chest to my face.

And they stay there. They fucking stay there.

I should be terrified. But I'm mostly just thinking, Okay, wow. Rude of the universe to make him look like that.

"I... I didn't see you," I say. "Please tell me that's not real leather. Because if it is, I owe an apology to a cow."

Nobody laughs at my poor joke. A guy standing beside him, broad, blond, built like a refrigerator, lets out a low whistle.

"It's Italian," the guy in the jacket says. His voice is quiet and flat. Almost intimidating.

"Then I'm sorry to the cow and Italy."

Still nothing. Fuck, I shouldn't have joked again.

His mouth doesn't move. But his eyes drop to my mouth, and I realize I'm still smiling, nervous and wide. They stay there half a second too long. Then they snap away like I burned him.

"Look at that, Cole," says a third guy, smaller, with perfect hair and a smirk that looks borrowed. "He's not even going to apologize properly. Do you know what dry-cleaning that costs? Probably more than he could afford in a year."

His smirk widens as he steps forward. "You know what we should do? We should give him his first lesson."

Okay, this is going somewhere bad. He keeps stepping closer, and closer, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Teddy itching to intervene, but he's too scared to move. I gulp, and almost close my eyes to accept my fate.

Then...

"Leave it, Preston," says the guy in the jacket.

Preston's head snaps toward him in disbelief. "But..."

"I said leave it."

And that's it. Everything goes silent.

Behind them, a fourth guy, tall, thin, quiet, stands with a notebook against his chest, looking at the grass like it's the most interesting thing on campus.

The guy in the jacket steps closer. Not much, just enough that I have to tilt my head back slightly to keep his eyes.

"Look where you're walking," he says, almost gently, and somehow that's worse. "People like you should learn that early."

"People like me?"

"New ones."

It doesn't sound like new is what he means.

Then he walks past me. His shoulder knocks mine, light, deliberate, and I smell leather, rain, and something expensive underneath.

The blond one and the smirking one follow him like shadows. The quiet one trails last, and for a second, I swear he glances back at me. An apology, or maybe the idea of one.

Then they're gone, and the quad starts breathing again.

For a few seconds, I just stand there, my hand wet from what's left of my coffee, my heart doing something stupid and unforgettable.

"Dude," Teddy finally says, in a voice I haven't heard from him yet. "Do you know who that was?"

"Some guy who really loves leather?"

"That was Callum Crane."

I wait for the name to land. Then it does. I look back at the plaque beside the stone building. CRANE HALL. Then at the quad, where a black jacket is disappearing around the corner.

"Crane. As in..."

"As in the Crane Foundation. As in the Senator's son. As in your scholarship, technically." Teddy rubs the back of his neck. "He pretty much runs the social side of this place. People are scared of him. Or in love with him. Or both."

"Huh."

"Theo. You just poured coffee on the most dangerous guy at Halloran."

"Yeah." I look down at the almost-empty cup in my hand, then at the corner where he vanished. "Well, guess I've made a friend."

"No." Teddy shakes his head slowly. "You made an enemy. Theo, he's never anybody's friend. He's only ever a fucking nightmare."