AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nash is—was—one of my oldest friends. He’d always hang at the Brady household with Maverick while Willow, Maverick’s sister and my best friend, and I were around. Somehow, instead of the boys being annoyed by our presence, we became an unlikely foursome, always together—until we weren’t.
My ass starts vibrating, the shrill ringtone mumbled as I lift off the ground, grabbing it from my pocket. I don’t bother glancing at the caller ID, only a handful of people in the world have this number, and the only ones who ever actually use it are my parents and my therapist.
“Hey, Mom.” She sighs down the line, and though I can’t see her, I know her shoulders are sagging in relief at the sound of my voice. “Your timing is impeccable, I just walked into my dorm.”
“I may or may not have been watching your live location,” she says sheepishly.
“Mom!”
“Now, young lady, don’t begrudge a mother for wanting to make sure her daughter is safe,” she admonishes, the line falling silent for a moment as her words sink in. Guilt settles in my stomach like a lead pipe. “Oh, honey, I didn’t . . .”
“It’s fine, Mom. You’re right. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
She sighs, and I push myself off the floor, walking slowly around the dorm while she asks me about the drive down before telling me about all the fun things to do locally when I get the chance to head into town.
The space is small, but I’ve lucked out in having my own dorm with a small kitchenette and bathroom. While it costs a little extra to not be stuck rooming with someone else, or having to share commodities, it’s worth it for the privacy. The ability to lock myself away when things become too hard is something my parents would never put a price on.
Bad days are part of living with anxiety, depression, and PTSD, and struggling through those bad days under the watchful gaze of a roommate would only make things worse.
And after bumping into Nash today—and the way my heart still thumps in my chest, my anxiety gripping tight and refusing to ease, even with Mom chattering down the phone happily—I worry how many hard days are to come.
Maverick
Reeling my arm back, my fingers loosen and the ball leaves my hand, flying through the air before landing in Beck’s waiting palm. He quickens his pace, dodging and weaving through the crowd as he reaches the doors of our new apartment complex and makes a show of slamming the leather on the ground.
“Touchdown!” He drops his hands to his thighs, bending forward as he makes a show of trying to twerk for those watching his dramatics. Fucking show-off.
Chuckling to myself, I toss the strap of my duffel over my shoulder and slam the trunk closed before locking the car and heading over to him. The parking lot is littered with students unloading trucks and slinging bags over their arms while dragging suitcases across the asphalt.
With fall semester starting in just shy of a week and the football season getting ready to kick off, the air is light with palpable excitement flooding from the masses. New blood coming in, old, seasoned students coming back after summer break. There’s nothing quite like move-in day to get you in a good mood.
Beck shoves the door open when I reach him, pulling his keys from his pocket as he bypasses the lobby, moving straight for our apartment. Technically it’s on campus, but only a few students are lucky enough to snag them, and being on the football team, Coach Jenkins was happy to put our names forward.
A few kids nod their acknowledgments as we pass, others staring awestruck as two BU Bears players make their way through.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the attention and admiration, not after everything that happened two years ago.
Nobody thought I’d amount to much of anything when I first rocked up here this time last year. Fresh out of a year-long stint in prison, most people expected me to fail at the first hurdle, but I worked my ass off, proving them all wrong.
We all make mistakes—I just happened to make the worst fucking mistake of my life at eighteen. I trusted the wrong person, and it landed me in cuffs and a year of drinking stale coffee behind metal bars with a bunch of other men as my unhappy roommates.
I got off lucky, really lucky, in the grand scheme of things. Putting the governor’s son in the ICU should have ended all hopes I ever had of making something out of myself, but thankfully, my dad has some pull and got me a reduced sentence with the help of the best lawyers in town and a shit ton of money thrown around.
Then, when the time came that I was given back my freedom, Jenkins contacted my dad. He’d seen some of my old high school tapes and decided he wanted me for his team.
It took a lot of convincing to the dean of admissions to get me in, and a promise I would keep my grades in tip-top shape, and if I get into a single fight, I’ll be booted in a split second.
But making quarterback and captain of the football team and keeping a three-point-seven GPA in my first year of college, that’s all me, and nobody can take credit for that one. While I had a little help getting here, I’ve been watched closely since I arrived, and not a single thing has been handed to me in the last twelve months.
“Home, sweet, home,” Beck shouts out, pushing our door open and stepping into the open space. The scent of fresh chemicals is overwhelming, my eyes watering as I follow behind him, tossing my bag on the floor before diving onto the couch.
“Crack a window, dude,” I tell him as he saunters through the space, propping all the windows open before he flips the coffee machine on and grabs two navy mugs, complete with three bright-yellow bear paws stamped on the front.
When he shoves a mug into my hand a couple minutes later, I take a tentative sip, sighing happily when the vanilla floods my tastebuds. This is the shit you learn to be grateful for after a year of stale, bitter, black coffee.
Heavy footsteps follow the sound of a slamming door, our other two roommates bounding into the room, Gray harassing Nash with question after question, not caring to stop for air.
“Come on, dude,” he whines, whacking me around the head in greeting as he passes. He drops down into the leather armchair opposite, staring at Nash with wide eager eyes. “Who is she?”
