Sophomore Year
Holding a bouquet of sunflowers, I shoulder open the doors of the all-female dorm with the kind of determination that’s usually reserved for a fourth-and-goal.
Marshall Hall—aka the medieval fortress my girlfriend insists on living in—towers over me as though I’m already breaking rules. White brick, sterile windows, a lawn manicured within an inch of its life. It’s the prettiest building on campus and the one that hates me the most.
Strict curfews, stricter staff, and an entire handbook dedicatedto keeping boyfriends like me as far away as possible. Honey calls it “independence.”
I call it torture.
My hair’s still wet from practice, my legs are shot, and I should be icing my shoulder—not begging for thirty stolen minutes with my girl—but nothing, and I mean nothing, keeps me from her.
“Gemma,” I say, leaning on the front desk like I didn’t sprint here from the stadium. Then, I pull out a single sunflower, offering it to her.
She doesn’t even try to hide her disdain. Instead, she adjusts her thick glasses, and looks me up and down, her upper lip curling slightly.
“Zach.” She rolls her eyes, glancing back at the computer screen. “I know Honey never breaks the rules and she seems nice…” A lie. It’s not a secret how much these people hate her for no other reason than I let her put her tongue down my throat. “But rules are rules. You’ve only got—” she checks the clock, and sighs, “—thirty minutes.”
“You’re acting like I can’t make thirty minutes count,” I murmur, sliding the flower back into place.
She raises her hand with a groan. “Stop. It’s bad enough that I sometimeshearit. Don’t make me picture it too.”
“I’m deeply sorry for your trauma.” I offer a salute. “But I’d be even sorrier if you didn’t buzz me in.”
Resigned, she hits the button, making the tiny metal gate open with a groan.
“You owe me,” she mutters.
“I’ll get you a date with Dax.” I slide through the gate, resisting the urge to hop over the thing even though I could. It’s tempting, but I have no idea how long Honey’s going to stubbornly refuse to live with me, so I want to make sure I stay in the college’s good graces and avoid a dorm ban on my record. “He’s got space on his roster.”
“Not interested,” Gemma sings. “Get me Reese and maybe I’ll call it even.”
“Reese?” I take in a sharp breath without looking back. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“And Zach, don’t make me come and get you.”
I lift a hand in the air, giving her a thumbs-up without looking back, and beeline for the elevator. It dings a moment later, and when the doors slide open, two girls are already inside, giggling.
They freeze when they see me.
“Z-Zach Evans?” the taller one gasps, her mouth hanging open. “Is it really you?”
Fuck.
“Amber,” the shorter one hisses, elbowing her in the ribs. “You sound obsessed. Just…act normal for one day in your damn life.”
Amber’s mouth snaps shut—briefly.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, pointing straight at me. “But how am I supposed to act normal? I’ve literally only ever seen him on posters or on TV. I did not expect him to be hotter in real life. Or, you know… standing in my dorm lobby.”
“In his girlfriend’s dorm lobby,” the tall one replies flatly. “Which, you knew when you chose to live here.”
I close my eyes—just for a second, to keep the twitch in my jaw from turning into something worse. It’s always like this. Every time I set foot in this building. No matter what time of day, no matter how low I pull my hood or how fast I move, someone always wants a moment. A smile. A story to tell their group chat.
Just once, I’d like to visit my girlfriend without feeling like I’m about to be splashed all over social media.
“Are you finished? I need to go up,” I say flatly, ignoring them as I step forward.
They part dramatically like the Red Sea. I move forward, ignoring the whispers, ignoring the way Amber practically vibrates with desperation.