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My legs are spongy and weak. I rest my hand on the roof for support. The real come-to-life version of what I envisioned as the next steps of my future right in front of me.
I allow my fantasies to carry my imagination this one time. My mind is an ocean, endless and all-seeing.
For a single second, I’m that student who’s exited the library to the left. The girl beside her not a stranger but Rory. My eyes shift, and now I’m the person furiously walking, clutching my backpack, late for something important.
Again, things move. My pencil taps as I hum to music while sitting under the tree for shade. I smile up at the person who’s brought me a coffee, then they take a seat beside me as we continue our study session.
Blinking, these faces dissolve from my own and back to the bodies they belong to. This illusive world fades as fast as it arrives.
A sting hits the back of my throat. This life wasn’t my fate, my destiny, as it was each of theirs.
Sharply, I turn back and climb into my vehicle, gripping the wheel with both hands. A tightness wraps around my ribs, squeezing to an almost suffocating pressure.
Would I change my life? That would mean my little nugget wouldn’t be alive or waiting for me back at my dad’s.
Shame washes over me so strongly it nearly overshadows the guilt. The leather on the wheel screams the harder I grip.
I push out a breath. No. I’m certain I wouldn’t change a thing.
Why am I suddenly so conflicted then?
Rory wasn’t lying when she told me the hellhound’s house was right off campus. Only a few blocks if you walk, or less than a mile by car.
The house is cute. Not as big as the frat or sorority homes I’d passed, but comparable. The modern Tudor-style exterior plays right into the theme of those buildings as well.
Steep-pitched gable roofs rise toward the sky. One is on the main frame of the house, the other above the front door. Decorative half-timber lines below before it’s mixed with brick. Narrow windows, except for the single oriel bay in the front.
I tug at the hem of my linen white shorts and retie the already perfect bow on the belt.
Scoffing, I tell myself I’m being ridiculous as I ring the doorbell.
Nothing.
Wiping the dampness from my palms, I try again and am left in the same riled state. The clamminess only grows the more I try. Eventually, I give up altogether on the sensible method and pound my fist into the wood instead.
“Fuck!” Finn growls, yanking open the door and I jump back from the force. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” he hisses, wiping at his eyes.
“Do you?” I accuse, arching a brow and jutting out my hip. Suddenly bold when his skin turns the shade of ash, realizing who’s standing on the other side of his entryway.
He recovers almost as quickly as my once frazzled nerves.
“Is this a joke? Am I being punked?” he whines, blinking away the too-bright sun behind me.
I cross my arms. “It’s noon.”
The muscles in his cheeks bulge, hollowing out in the same lungful. Then as if flipping a switch, the shock washes away and only cocky, oversaturated arrogance is left in its vigil.
Finn’s arms extend, elongating as his fingers lock onto the frame above us. The shift lengthens his torso enough that the bottom of his shirt tugs up and I get a glimpse of those flawless abs.
A morsel and I have to grip my forearms, battling my urge to trail my fingers across the smooth, chiseled skin.
He scans my face for a second before frowning. Crowding me, his jacked body overshadows my own.
Finn glances over my shoulder, sucking on his teeth. “What are you doing here, Hailey?”
My spine straightens at his lack of expression, his tone not carrying an ounce of concern. I smile sweetly. “Rory told me you’d run off here.”
Alright, so Finn hadn’t told her this directly. He’d told Eli and Cole in their group chat. His sister found out after I asked her to as a favor, pulling the maid of honor card.
