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Ford was split into seven different buildings, all arranged in a rectangle around a park that boasted not one but two fountains for reasons that weren’t quite apparent at first glance. Benches and old oak trees were dotted around the park, and there were already people sitting on them, presumably second and third years. Topiaries had been carved to resemble Ford’s sea serpent mascot, the newest thing about this place—everything else had a history and weight to it.
“She certainly didn’t waste any time,” Byron said with his first smile of the day, his blue eyes warm as he watched Honey where she stood off to the side, flirting with the broad-shouldered blonde guy from the ferry.
“We’re social pupae-ing,” I told him, and patted his arm when horror crossed his tanned face, his understanding far quicker than mine had been. “We’re going to evolve into beautiful social butterflies—yes, you too,” I insisted when he began to object. “We’ll be talking to people, going to parties, making friends—you should make your peace with it now,” I told him sympathetically.
“Good god,” he breathed, only half joking.
I snorted, bumping my shoulder into his. “We’ll get through it. Introverts unite.” I held up my fist and he bumped his against it.
“Safety in numbers, I like the way you think, Cat. What are we waiting here for anyway?”
Dad appeared out of nowhere and slung his arms around both our shoulders. “Patience, children. Someone’s coming to take your bags from the car and show you to your new digs. Did I use that correctly? Tannie taught me it.”
“Flawless usage of the word digs, Dad,” I assured him, excitement and curiosity beating my nerves even deeper into submission as I smiled. Dad always had a way of making the worst problems feel like nothing to worry about, and I needed that comfort right now. Because looking at the historic grey buildings around me, their windows watchful and contents unknowable, the largest building spearing the sky with its spire, the university sprawling and wide… I was a little daunted.
“Did I slay the house down boots?” Dad asked, ultra seriously.
“You slayed, Dad,” I agreed, and wondered if he’d continue to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race now I’d left home and Zoltan—Tannie—had returned to his own uni.
Byron suppressed a smile despite his grumpy mood, but then his attention snagged on something in the distance. He assaulted my arm with rapid taps. “Oh my God, it’s Lurch from the Addams Family.”
“Byron, don’t be unkind,” Dad chided, and then choked on a laugh at the same time my eyes flew wide. Shit, By was right—it really did look like Lurch. Walking out of the massive double doors of the biggest building was a man who had to be nearing seven feet tall, with papery-white skin, a square face, and massive shoulders that made the blonde guy Honey was flirting with look like a stick drawing. He wore a black coat almost to the floor and a blocky hat, like he’d stepped out of a Victorian novel.
“Staff and students stay in different buildings, right?” I asked, probably being unkind but unable to shake the prickle of unease that formed behind my shoulder blades.
“He’s just a very tall man,” Dad said, shaking his head and squeezing my shoulder. “No need to be frightened. Besides, the bigger a man, the more luggage he can carry. Remember that when you’re shopping for husbands, Cat.”
I rolled my eyes but despite the hulking giant making his way across the park towards us, I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. “I’m here to study, Dad, not to find a husband.”
He wasn’t deterred. “Good place to find husbands, a medical school.”
“Mum found you at a charity gala,” I drawled, giving him a snarky look.
“And Honey’s mum found Godfrey at Cambridge,” he pointed out.
I smiled, remembering the stories Honey’s parents told, of her heir to a Fortune 500 company father getting the shock of his life when the wild child he’d fallen in love with at college went on to become a vicar.
“Chances of me attracting a billionaire are dismally low, so don’t get your hopes up,” I drawled. They tended to go for glamorous women with flawless blonde hair, tanned skin, and petite bodies to die for. Not tall, almost-too-curvy girls with dull brunette hair, lips bitten red, glasses, a permanent wince, and fingers that wouldn’t stop spinning a ring around and around and around my finger.3
We fell silent when the hulking man reached us, his shadow cast far.
“Where are your bags?” he asked in a deep voice like a rockslide. Chills went down my arms, but I kept in mind what Dad had said. He’s just a tall man, nothing to be afraid of.
“Over here in the car,” Dad replied, overly friendly to make up for Byron and I not quite managing to avoid staring at the man. “Orwell Wallison, nice to meet you, old boy.”
“Doyle,” the massive man replied in a grunt, following Dad back to the car.
“He’s cheerful,” Byron remarked quietly, leaning his shoulder into mine. “Chances of him murdering us in our sleep?”
“High,” I murmured. “Oh, look who’s deigned to grace us with her presence again.”
Honey stuck her tongue out at us, jogging back to our side. “Don’t be sulky. I only left you for ten minutes.”
Byron slid a canny look at her. “Did you get his number, at least?”
Honey wiggled her phone at him, her face lighting up. “Of course I did. What kinda girl do you take me for?”
“A chatty one.”
