Chapter 1
I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach, a buzzing mix of excitement and anxiety that felt like the static before a thunderstorm. Today is the day I start college—technically, it’s the day I move onto campus. It’s Saturday now, and classes start this coming Monday. The crisp, early-fall air should’ve calmed me, but instead, my mind kept spinning with questions: Would my dorm be decent? Would my roommate be friendly—or at least tolerable? Could I handle being on my own?
I tried not to dwell on the uncertainty as I finished loading the last of my suitcases into my old 2004 mint green Honda Civic. Despite having almost 200,000 miles on her, “Booger”—as my older half-sister once christened the car—had been a solid ride. She was a gift from my dad, purchased secondhand from my sister, and while the story behind that transaction was hardly warm and fuzzy, at least the car worked. I double-checked the trunk before turning to say goodbye to my mom.
Growing up, it was always just the two of us. My mom had been a nanny for my half-sister, which led to an awkward liaison with my dad. He never seemed to like my mom—never seemed to like much of anything, really—and their relationship was so distant you could barely call it one. I’d always suspected alcohol played a role in my conception, but I never pressed for details. We were fine on our own.
“Call me as soon as you settle in,” Mom said, her voice catching ever so slightly. She tried to hide it behind a brave smile. I nodded, gave her a quick hug, and slid into the driver’s seat. Mom waved from the curb until I turned the corner. Then it was just me and Booger on the two-hour trip to Baxter University.
The highway was lined with tall forests and wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Even the occasional stretch of farmland—complete with peeling barns and grazing cows—felt oddly comforting, like a small reminder of home. With the windows cracked, I caught the scent of damp earth and whiffs of gasoline, a combination that, for some reason, reminded me of the mini-road trips Mom and I used to take each summer. We never went far, but they were our escapes, our moments of freedom.
By the time I arrived at the sprawling campus, my shoulders were sore from gripping the wheel. Baxter University was bigger than I expected—old and modern buildings, neat walkways, and clusters of tall oak trees. I navigated my way to the dorm complex, which at first glance looked like a standard, no-frills apartment block. It's functional but uninspiring.
I was relieved to have received my keys and info packet by mail, sparing me a detour to the administration office. My nerves were wound tight enough already. All I wanted was to drop off my things and catch my breath. With only two suitcases in tow, I managed to shuffle through the interior hallway—a setup that made me feel more secure than the motels-with-doors-on-the-outside style. At least here, there was a sense of being in a real building, even if the corridors looked like a run-of-the-mill hotel.
Stepping into my assigned room, I sized it up: two twin beds on opposite sides, matching gray desks that doubled as nightstands, and two small closets that screamed “limited storage.” The walls were an off-white that reminded me uncomfortably of hospital corridors, and the fluorescent lighting gave the place a sterile glow. There was a tiny bathroom in the back—a toilet, a shower stall, and a sink that looked like it had seen better days. No fridge, no microwave. The cafeteria was going to be my best friend.
I heaved my suitcases onto the bed on the left, intending to start unpacking, but before I could unzip a bag, the door burst open, nearly smacking the wall. A petite girl barreled through, lugging a suitcase twice her size.
“Whew, that is way heavier than it looks! I swear I’m not a weakling… Okay, maybe I am a bit.” She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.
She grinned sheepishly, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was already laughing at some inside joke. Then, without warning, she launched herself at me in a bear hug.
“Jesus, you don’t need to prove you’re not a weakling. My name’s Alice,” I managed to gasp, gently patting her back.
She pulled away, eyes gleaming. “This is so exciting! We’re roomies! My name is Paige.”
Paige radiated a hyper-energetic energy that filled the once-sterile space. She talked a mile a minute about the upcoming year, the campus social scene, and, notably, the parties. Her enthusiasm was infectious, but the word “parties” made my heart clench.
I imagined a room full of sweaty strangers, music so loud it rattled my teeth, and the possibility of spiked drinks. My anxious mind conjured the worst scenarios, each of them more dramatic than the last. Sweat began to prick at the back of my neck.
Paige was still going. “...So, what do you think, Alice? Isn’t it going to be amazing?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I said, trying to swallow the sudden dryness in my throat.
She must’ve picked up on my tension because she tilted her head, eyebrows knitting in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
I bit the skin on my thumb—an old, nervous habit. “Sorry… I don’t think I can do parties. Not right now, at least.”
Paige’s expression softened instantly. “I know we just met, but you seem a little anxious. Look, I promise you, parties are nothing like the movies. They’re just loud music, some free drinks, and maybe a few bad dance moves. Don’t stress. We’ll meet other students, maybe people in our classes. It’ll be chill, I swear.”
Her reassurance barely took the edge off, but I forced a nod. Maybe she was right—maybe my fears were overblown. Maybe I could handle it if I tried.
A few hours later, I found myself standing in the middle of my first college party, wondering how on earth I’d let Paige talk me into this. “Chill” was not the word I’d use to describe the scene. The moment we walked through the door, a blast of bass-heavy music rattled my ribcage. The house—occupied by upperclassmen from the football team—was jam-packed with bodies, the air thick with the smell of booze and sweat.
Paige, brimming with excitement, drifted off toward the beer pong table, chatting up a guy whose eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. I tried to follow, but the shifting crowd separated us quickly. Feeling every bit the awkward freshman, I hovered near a makeshift bar set up in the kitchen.
I told myself I just needed something to relax. One drink. I scooped up a red Solo cup and filled it with Sprite and vodka. The alcohol stung my throat, but I kept sipping. One drink turned into two. Then three. I lost track, but with each swallow, the clammy grip of anxiety loosened a little more.
“Who’s this?” A deep voice rumbled behind me.
I turned, nearly stumbling in my hazy state, to see a tall guy with sandy-blond hair and confident blue eyes. He stood with a casual posture that suggested he owned the space—or at least felt entirely comfortable in it.
My eyes flicked to my empty cup, then back to him. “My name’s Alice,” I said, voice wavering.
He smiled. “Jax.” His handshake was warm but slightly damp. “Is this your first year at Baxter?”
“Yeah, I’m a freshman. Just moved into the dorms today.” I give him a smile I hope doesn't reek of anxiety.
“Nice,” he said, glancing around the chaotic living room. “I live here with a bunch of the guys on the football team. Pretty rowdy bunch, but we’re harmless.”
“Oh, cool. My roommate invited me.” I lifted my empty cup, wishing I had more to sip. “I hope that’s okay.”
“I’d never kick out a pretty girl,” Jax said with a teasing smirk. “Besides, now I know your name—Alice. So, I guess we’re friends now.”
My cheeks grew warm. “Right,” I said, letting out a small, nervous laugh.
Just as the tension seemed to settle, a random stranger bumped me from behind, causing my drink to slosh all over Jax’s shirt.
“Oh no!” My heart hammered as I searched for napkins or a towel to blot up the mess. Jax chuckled while I dabbed at his shirt. His chest felt solid under the fabric—a fact I tried very hard not to notice.
“It’s fine, just a little spill. No big deal,” he assured me, watching with amusement as I continued to pat his shirt.
I pulled my hands away quickly, feeling my face heat up even more. “That’s better,” I mumbled, self-conscious.
“Did you do that just to ogle me, Alice?” He shot me a playful grin, and I swatted his arm in mock offense.
“No! I swear, I didn’t.”
We both laughed, the tension dissolving into something lighter. That was when another guy strode over—a tall figure with dark hair and striking, greenish-gold eyes. Where Jax had an easy grin, this guy had an intensity to him, like he was quietly sizing up the room.
“Hey, man, introduce me to this beauty, or are you just gonna hog her to yourself?” His gaze flicked to me with a confidence that made my pulse flutter.
“Grey, if I introduce you, she’ll probably stop talking to me,” Jax joked. Then he turned to me. “Are you enjoying my company, Alice?”
I glanced between them, feeling like a rabbit caught between two watchful hawks. Something about Greyson’s stare was deeper, more penetrating. I forced a smile, though my stomach was doing flips. “Um… yeah, Jax has been cool. Just getting to know each other.”
Greyson smirked. “Just ‘nice’? Come on, man. You’re boring the poor girl.”
“No! I swear, he’s not boring me!” I blurted, my cheeks burning. “We’ve just been talking.”
“Alice, I’m Greyson,” he said, offering his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, and a strange tingle buzzed in my fingertips.
“Nice to meet you, Greyson.” My voice wavered again, and I couldn’t hold his gaze.
Greyson’s eyes flicked over my face like he was memorizing every feature. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said, his tone dropping lower.
I blushed. “Oh, thank you. Yours are pretty unique too… very pretty.”
Before I could stumble over any more compliments, Jax stepped back with a laugh. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Alice. See you around.” He disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone under Greyson’s quiet scrutiny.
As the noise of the party swelled around us, it felt like a bubble formed in the space between me and Greyson. The air seemed charged, my heart thumping against my ribcage.
“Are you okay, Alice?” he asked, voice softer than before.
“Yeah… just a little claustrophobic in here,” I admitted the truth, hating how it made me sound weak. The crowd was pulsating with energy, and the combination of alcohol and nerves had me craving an escape.
“Wanna go outside?” Greyson suggested, nodding toward a door at the far side of the living room. “There’s a firepit with chairs.”
Relief coursed through me. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
His hand closed around mine as he guided me through the throng of partygoers. I normally hated being touched—small talk was nerve-wracking enough without physical contact. But his hand was warm, rough at the edges, and somehow comforting.
We stepped into the cool night air, the music dampened by the walls of the house. A circle of chairs surrounded a small firepit, the flames dancing shadows across Greyson’s face. I settled into one of the seats, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“So, do you come here often?” I asked, trying to break the tension. The question sounded cliché, but I was too tired to think of anything better.
Greyson offered a half-smile. “Yeah, you could say that. I live here with the team.”
My eyes drifted to the flickering fire, and the dancing embers reminded me of my own restless thoughts. “Must be nice,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
“It can be. But it’s also a bit of a headache sometimes,” he replied, leaning back and gazing at the star-scattered sky. We talked for a while—about classes, dorm life, his football schedule, and random tidbits about Baxter University. Conversation flowed easily, the way it sometimes does with strangers you feel oddly comfortable around.
I lost track of time until a sudden wave of exhaustion hit me like a truck. Between the drinks and my earlier nerves, my eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. The last thing I remembered was nodding in and out of our conversation, the crackle of fire lulling me toward sleep.
When I came to, I was nestled in someone’s arms, the scent of cinnamon and pine enveloping me. It took me a moment to piece together where I was. The house. The firepit. Greyson. My eyes fluttered open briefly, but the comforting warmth and the alcohol-induced haze weighed me down.
How many drinks had I had? I couldn’t remember. My head lolled against a strong shoulder, and I felt safe—maybe too safe. I shut my eyes again, letting the darkness take me.
I drifted off once more and didn’t wake up until morning.
