My inner ramblings are cut short when I see Brittany slightly nudge her in the ribs and subtly shake her head. My good mood deflates.
“Oh, you know what, I just remembered that I have a thing to do tonight. So I can’t. Thank you anyway.” I awkwardly nod my head and hurriedly enter the building, trying to fight the sinking feeling in my chest.
It’s okay if not everyone wants to be my friend; that isn’t going to stop me.
I put on my brightest smile and enter the classroom.
4
ADAM
Iexhale a deep breath, flopping on my bed and extending my appendages to fully stretch my body. The ache from being hunched over a desk all week writing notes is taking its toll on my body already, and we just finished the first week of classes. That’s the shitty thing though, there’s no adjustment period when you get into the higher-level courses. The first day used to be for syllabi and getting to know what’s expected. The second year in college is when life slams you in the face with a book and then demands a three-page essay due by the end of the week about the current economic climate.
That’s what I get for being a business major. While other students are learning and enjoying their curriculum, I’m stuck in a room with twenty other students who hate their lives, but think business is the way to go. It’s not, by the way.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be in college. I definitely would not be studying business. I would do something… Outdoorsy. Like being a travel guide, or maybe one of those content creators who vlog all of their trips. Anything other than this. But that’s one of the stipulations for getting my trust fund. A degree froma well-respected college, my choice of course, in business. My father couldn’t have come up with something better.
Thinking about my parents sends a dull pain thudding through my chest. I push it away, because the last thing I need after a week from hell is to be caught in a purgatory of depressing thoughts.
I’m supposed to go out with Brittany, Zoey, and Danielle tonight to celebrate the first week being over. I mean, truthfully, the school year can only go downhill from here.
It’s been a busy week, but this will be the second time all of us have been together since move-in day happened. Normally, we’re together as often as possible, but after that Saturday, there was a weird shift in the air.
The TV in my room is blaring the new crime documentary that Brittany picked out. Zoey is leaning back on my couch, situated between Brittany’s legs, as the investigator drones on with the information, making it more convoluted than it needs to be. His monotone voice is boring me, and my eyes start to slide shut every time the camera pans to him.
“I invited Hunter to come to our movie nights, I hope that’s cool,” Brittany says when the TV goes to a commercial break. I stand up, cracking my back as I walk into the kitchen to get a drink, trying to ignore the fire in my veins at just hearing his name.
“The kid from move-in day? He was so quiet, you didn’t think he was weird?” I mean, I didn’t think he was weird, but normally when someone is quiet, Brittany doesn’t cling to them as much. She needs someone to talk as much as she does.
“No, I don’t think he was weird. He was sweet…” She trails off and cocks her eyebrows at me when I come back into my living room and plop down on the couch in my vacated spot. “And you kept looking at him.”
My laughter is strained as I stare at her, incredulity lining my tone as I say, “I wasn’t staring at him.” I try to come up with a quick lie to cover up her catching me staring at a man when I absolutely should not be. “I was just uncomfortable.”
Brittany drops the discussion after that, and we watch the rest of the documentary in awkward silence.
My thoughts drift to rosy red cheeks and brown eyes, and I wonder how he’s coping with everything so far. Seeing him the first day was jarring, and I had to get out of there. When he’s around, it’s like my mind doesn’t know what to think. And that’s ridiculous. I don’t know him, and I don’t care to know him. There was just something about him that piqued my interest, but if I give it a few more days, I won’t even remember how his eyes were slightly green or the small scar he had on his upper lip.
Jesus fucking Christ. I need to get a hold of myself. I’m straight, just ask my girlfriend. My 5’8”, curvy, redheaded girlfriend with green eyes and the cutest button nose. I shouldn’t be thinking about someone else. Especially not a guy.
My phone buzzes inside my pocket, and I grab it out, not bothering to check the caller ID first.
“Yeah?” I snap, my attitude getting the best of me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me, but I need it to go away. I want to go back to normal. Back to before I met Hunter Collins.
“Is that any way to answer your phone, sir?” My ears perk up, and I clear my throat, swallowing down the lump that is building.
“I apologize about that, I was expecting a call from a friend.” I cringe, because yes, I am ill-tempered quite often, but I try not to let it show. Especially not to those people who have a say in my future. “How can I help you, Mr. Peterson?” An annoyed huff sounds through the line, and I bite my lip to keep from saying something stupid likeyou’re the one who called me, so why thefuck are you annoyed?I doubt that would go over well with my father’s lawyer, though.
“I was checking in to see how school’s going.” Lies, lies, lies. He doesn’t care; he wants me to fuck up so I can lose access to my inheritance. Because if I don’t follow the straight path set for me, I forfeit all rights to it, and it’ll be spread amongst my parents’ colleagues. How shitty is that? Pressure grows in my chest, but I breathe through it, not willing to let him hear me all out of sorts.
“It’s great, I have really high hopes for this semester.” There. Nice, polite, and professional. Exactly what is expected from the last living beneficiary of the Carters’ legacy.
“Yes, yes. The dean did say that you have a big course load this year. Hoping to graduate early?” I can hear the unspoken question:Are you planning on graduating early to get to the money faster?Which is ridiculous, because I don’t care about the money. I had enough in my accounts when that night happened, and I’ve been living comfortably on it, barely making a dent in it. Money isn’t the issue, it’s lettingthemhave it. They know if I get my way, it’ll end up in the hands of people who actually need it. Not greedy men who already have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, while other people in the same town fight against homelessness and hunger.
“I’m not sure yet, I’ve been looking at other electives to take as well.” The side project sitting on my laptop in the locked folder feels like a personal vendetta against the system that put me here in the first place.
He makes a condescending noise in the back of his throat, and I can’t control my eye roll.
“Is that all, Mr. Peterson? I’m quite busy, as you can imagine.” My phone buzzes against my ear, and I pull it away to see the group chat blowing up with messages.
