Chapter 1
Lilly
“Good morning, everyone.” My journalism Professor greets with a bright smile on her face as she enters the room and makes her way toward her desk.
“Oh my,” Finley mutters beside me as his eyes trail up and down Professor Davenport. “She keeps getting hotter as the years go on.”
Twisting slightly in my seat, I blink at him. “She’s like forty.”
“And?” He says, twisting to face me too. “Who’s to say I’m not into MILF’s?” He smirks.
“She doesn’t even have kids.” I point out.
“Not yet,” he winks, pushing his hand through his auburn hair. “But once I pump my seed into her—”
“Gross.” I cut him off, placing my hand over his mouth.
He laughs, pushing my hand away. “I’m just saying,” he shrugs, glancing to the front again. “She’d look hot with my cum dripping down—”
Smothering my hand across his mouth again, not wanting to hear about it, I say. “You do realize she’s married?”
“I could totally take her husband,” he grins, lifting his arm to show me his muscles. “Have you seen these?” He squeezes his other hand across his bicep as he flexes. “They don’t call me Finley the destroyer for nothing.”
“Nobody calls you that,” I snort, opening my laptop screen and typing my passcode in. “And it’s wife.”
“What?”
“You’d be taking her wife on,nothusband.”
“She’s a lesbian?” His mouth gapes open as he looks between me and our Professor.
Giving him a deadpan look, I sigh. Does he seriously not listen in lectures? Just a few days ago she was talking about how excited she was because her and her “wife” are going to Florida for winter break to visit her brother.
“Okay, listen up!” Professor Davenport draws my attention away from Finley to her as she claps her hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. “We’ll be starting our next assignment for the semester today.” She announces, and the room erupts into groans from my classmates, making her laugh.
“She better not assign me to write an article on the baseball team again,” Zoe, one of my classmates who sits behind me and is always bitching about our assignment’s mutters to Lorna, another one of my classmates, and her best friend. “I cannot deal with that much testosterone for an entire semester,again.”
“Didn’t you fuck both Jefferson and Riley, that’s why there wasso much testosterone?” Lorna whispers, referring to the baseball captain and his best friend.
Ahh, that would explain why those two got into a huge fight last semester.
“Shh,” Zoe hisses under her breath, no doubt looking around the room to see if anyone heard her. “I told you not to speak of that again.”
I zone out their conversation as Professor Davenport starts speaking again. “You’ll be paired with a classmate, and you’ll be writing an article on a topic I’ll assign to you,” she says, walking to the center of the room with a stack of papers in hand. “The top two articles will each get a feature in the Riverside Gazette.”
This makes me perk up in my seat. Having an article you’ve written selected to feature in the Riverside Gazette—the college’s very own newsletter—is a dream come true.
I was around six years old when my love for writing begun. It started with journals, writing down every little detail about my day—from what I ate, to who I hated.
After school I’d go down to the local newspaper company in my hometown and pester them for hours, wanting to know everything there was to know about becoming a journalist. And I’m sure by the eighth time I walked through the door, they were tired of me constantly showing up.
When high school rolled around I joined the Journalism Juice Club, also known as the “JJC”—no idea why it was called that, but being part of that club made me realize what I’d been doing for years wasn’t a phase like others had once told me it was, but something I wanted to expand on.
Journalism was where my heart was. I loved the whole atmosphere that came along with it—the researching, the interviewing, the writing…hell, I even loved the formatting side of it that many others detested.
“Lilly Jackson,” my name coming from Professor Davenport’s lips has me sitting straighter as I anxiously pick at the skin on my nails. “You’ll be partnered up with,” she looks down at the paper in her hand and glances around the room, her eyes landing on the one person I didn’t want to work with. “Lakelyn Forest.”
I grumble under my breath as Finley snickers beside me. “Oof, tough.” He winces, giving me a sympathetic look.
