Just Before The End

**Disclaimer**: All characters in this story are of age. Story is also available on Wattpad!

I sincerely hope you enjoy the first chapter. I’m new to Inkitt, so excuse any mistakes. Thank you for reading!

The crowded campus of Maxwell University bustled with life.

Well, if half-asleep students, drowning themselves in coffee as they zombie-shuffled to class, could be called ‘life’.

Mara Hanson was amongst them, side-stepping a hungover freshman as he stumbled by. One eye on her book, another on the ground, Mara navigated through the crowd, quickly finding a nearby bench to finish her Doyle in peace.

The large grounds awoke around her, and yet Mara was glued to each word, flicking through them in wonder.

Just before the end, she reckoned was the best part.

Of any novel, the part where everything you’ve read comes together, building up to explode in a thrilling finale. That’s where she found her heart racing, hands sweating, mind solely in the universe the book had created.

Soon, the area around her quietened, and the only people left were the stragglers and over-sleepers.

And however much Mara wished to forget all her classes, her mom would kill her if she missed a class that she ‘was paying a leg and an arm for’.

With her mom’s voice in her mind, Mara rose reluctantly from her bench, accidentally smacking into the sharp edges of many books. The next thing she heard was the slam of them all hitting the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

Bending down to pick them up, Mara caught eyes with the owner of said books. ‘Owner’ was actually a guy, young and fresh looking, roguish brown hair falling into his eyes.

“It’s fine.”

His voice was smooth and assuring, and Mara had to take another quick look just to check he was real.

She quickly handed him the last of his mountain of books, rising from the ground.

Wringing her hands together, Mara found herself falling into an awkward silence. He stood, plenty taller than her, toned in every way. She looked up, right into a face that was chiselled, yet kind.

Intimidating, and yet full of laugh lines.

Like a character, crafted by the best author. Unreal, the best word to describe him.

In a completely, detached observation, of course. He was just a guy.

“So, sorry again.”

His eyes were hard to look at, like the sun. They kind of burnt her eyes.

He puffed a kind laugh, shaking his head. His hair seemed to follow. “Honestly, it was my fault. Hard to see over all this stuff.”

He made an annoying gesture towards his pile of books, and Mara caught one of the titles. She picked up her own book from the bench she’d dropped it on.

“Sherlock?”

The stranger’s mouth curved into a small smile, a smile that had Mara reaching for her brown curls, tugging them as her nervous habit was. Catching herself halfway, she folded her hand back into her side.

No. He didn’t make her nervous. No-one did.

The stranger nodded. “Doyle was a genius.”

He had an easy, confident manner to his words, like he believed everything he said. Mara wondered who he was.

Then her situation found her mind, and she jumped into action. “I-I should go to class. I hope your books are okay.”

The man, if she could even call him that, as he only looked a couple years older, bid her goodbye with a nod and a smile.

He smiled a lot.

The image played in Mara’s mind all the way to her philosophy class, until her professor greeted her with a stern look.

After that telling-off, the stranger and his love for Arthur Conan Doyle, was the last thing on her mind.

“Mimi!”

There was no-one else that voice could belong to.

“Hello, Jane.”

Mara sighed as Jane pulled her into a tight, suffocating hug. As was Jane custom, she also air-kissed her best friend on both cheeks.

“How are you babes?” Without waiting for Mara’s answer, Jane pulled out her compact, peering into her tiny mirror.

Of course, Jane already looked perfect.

That was one way to describe Jane. Immaculate. Not a blonde hair out of place, straightened to the extreme. Every eyelash identical, blue eyes piercing, just how the guys liked it.

Oh, and she knew it.

Jane blew her reflection a kiss, setting her mirror down. She caught sight of Mara’s book, and pouted her red lips.

“Another old book?” Jane groaned. “Mara, what have I told you about them?”

Bossy. That was another way to describe Jane.

Mara repeated the familiar words, tiredly. “Old books scare away any potential boyfriends.”

She punctuated her sentence with an eye-roll at her best friend. “Listen, Janie, I don’t even want a guy that’s intimidated by my reading habits.”

Jane just threw her friend a dead look, like she was dealing with a child.

“Babe, it’s our second year of college! Forget about this whole ‘perfect man’ list you’ve made in that crazy head of yours, and have some damn fun!”

Mara began to tune out of the same old conversation, one they’d had for as long as she could remember, and grabbed some fries from her tray. A second later, Jane was grabbing the book out of her hands.

“Listen to me Mimi. A boyfriend would be good for you! Or even just a fling.”

As if on cue, Kyle Edwards strolled past, throwing Jane a lazy smile. Jane lapped it up, flicking her hair in his direction.

Once he was gone, Mara groaned.

“Janie, you need to leave that guy. He’s a classic douche.”

It seemed it was Jane who tuned out this time. She was still twirling her hair, staring in the direction of Kyle’s lunch table.

Mara sighed. Why did she even try?

Kyle Edwards had been Jane’s on and off boyfriend for about ever, and he left Jane crying into her pillow about once a week. And yet, every time he opened his arms, or better yet, his pants, Jane went running back.

Mara would never understand it.

Not that guys were throwing themselves at her. Nope. She was just the girl with the books.

Book Girl. Some kind of sad, lonely superhero. That did no saving. Her superpowers included finding the best secret places for reading in complete solitude in the library, making the best darn cake this side of the Atlantic, and managing to cry at every single movie she ever watched.

Maybe she preferred it that way.

The bell rang through the cafeteria, signalling the end of lunch. It took Mara many tries to drag Jane away from that table and Kyle’s sight.

“Ugh, I hate English.”

Jane whined, struggling against Mara’s arm.

She stopped cold in the middle of the hallway, completely unaware of the herd of students behind her. Mara apologised to about a hundred of them as she pushed her way back to her friend.

“Yeah, you’ve said. But you can’t skip another one of Mr Roland’s classes. He’ll fail you for this semester.”

Jane sighed, but complied, allowing herself to be dragged once more. “That old bore? Honestly, I’d rather watch paint dry.”

Despite her love for books, Mara had to agree. There was some teachers that just somehow found a way to butcher even the best of subjects. Mr Roland’s voice was one long, drone of facts and passionless analysis, recited straight out of a textbook.

He was an old man, set onto his sixties, that munched on tuna sandwiches every lesson and was always falling asleep. Not to mention strict. Which Mara thought was kinda hypocritical.

Not like he even marked the essays they were forced to hand in.

As usual, the pair were the last to arrive at the full class. Jane stopped at the door.

“This is our last chance Mimi. We can make it if we run now.”

Mara just laughed, pushing her friend through the doors.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of sleeping students. Most of them, girls and guys, were staring attentively at the front of the class.

“Ah, girls. Glad you could join us.”

Mara knew that voice.

She followed the eye line of her classmates, stepping back in shock.

It was him. The guy from this morning, holding chalk.

Behind him was written ‘Mr Weston.’