Twisted Fate (Twisted #1)
Jessi Elliott
In memory of Wayne Elliott. I miss you, Dad.
Poison by Felicity War of Hearts by Ruelle Haunted by Maty Noyes Emerald by Lyra
Skinny Love by Birdy The Other Side by Ruelle Helium by Sia
Murder Song (Acoustic) by Aurora Holy Ground by BANNERS
Blue by Troye Sivan Kingdom Fall by Claire Wyndham Heal by Tom Odell
The Scientist by Corinne Bailey Rae
A gentle hand rests on my arm, and I momentarily consider breaking it. I’m tired, overworked, and in desperate need of caffeine. I sat at the back of the lecture hall for a reason. Still, someone has the nerve to bother me.
“You might want to at least pretend to be awake,” says a male voice, his tone laced with amusement.
I lift my head from the fold-out desk and blow the hair away from my face before turning toward the unfamiliar voice. The first thing I notice is the grass-green color of his eyes. I recognize his face now. It’s an embarrassing reminder of the many times he’s caught me noticing him around campus. I saw him for the first time during freshman year at Taylor’s Brew—a popular student hangout a few blocks from campus. My best friend and roommate Allison was convinced he was checking me out, but she didn’t miss a beat in warning me he was too old.
He sticks his hand out. “I’m Grant, the teaching assistant. I’m also in this class.” He must be pretty smart to land that position while still being a student himself.
“Aurora,” I say. His palm is rough against mine, as though he works with his hands often.
He passes me the class outline and syllabus, which I scan while he drops into the seat next to me. The keys in the pocket of his worn denim jeans jingle, drawing my attention back to him.
“What’s your major?” he asks, flicking back a bit of brown hair that’s sticking out from a beanie hat. Grant rocks the overdone hipster look, I’ll give him that.
“Business,” I answer. “My last year, thank god.”
He nods as if he understands. “A busy year.”
I groan in agreement, fighting the urge to let my head fall back onto the desk and go back to sleep before the lecture starts.
Grant leans over and nudges my shoulder. “It’s Friday. You should take the weekend off. You’ll have all semester to stress over papers and exams. Try to think about it this way: only two semesters until graduation, then you can work for some huge company or open your own. You can do whatever you want.”
Opening my own business is the goal. Since I was young, I’ve known I wanted to open a bookstore. Now it’s even more important I succeed. My brother was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. My parents would never ask me to pay them back for my tuition, but with the amount of time they’ve both taken off work, they need the money.
I sigh before casting him a sideways glance and say, “I hope you’re right.”
He grins. “Stick with me, and you’ll see I’m always right.”
My only response is a short burst of laughter.
“Listen, there’s a party off campus tonight. You should come.” He scribbles the address on a piece of paper and hands it to me. “No better way to ring in the new school year than with cheap beer and free pizza.”
I press my lips together. “You make a good point,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”
The lecture ends late as they often do. It’s after nine when I say goodbye to Grant and cross the street to walk through the cobblestone courtyard toward the dorms. Located in the middle of downtown, Rockdale University’s campus has beautifully landscaped gardens paired with tall, glass buildings. The entire campus is spread out across ten blocks.
My shoulder smacks into someone walking the opposite way, and I immediately turn to apologize, catching a stranger’s intense blue eyes.
“My fault,” he mutters, continuing on his way.
My feet feel like concrete, stuck in place as my stomach churns, unable to erase the sharp expression on the man’s face. I swallow, sucking in a breath when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. “Hey, Mom,” I answer, a little breathless as I force my legs to move again.
“How was your week?” she asks. “I wish I could’ve been there for your first day as a senior.” What she means is she still wishes I’d gone to the college in my hometown of Mapleville, where both she and my dad are professors. That was never my plan. I didn’t want my education handed to me on a shiny silver platter.
“It’s been a fairly uneventful week.” I walk into the lobby of my dorm and wait for the elevator.
“Any news on your placement?”
“Interviews are in a couple of weeks.” I’m hoping for something that has the potential for a job offer at the end. Knowing I have a job after graduation would make me feel better.
“Sounds good,” she says. “Adam misses you already.”
“Tell him I miss him, too. Love you guys.”
We say goodbye as I step into the elevator with a few other students. I arrive back at my room and find the door wide open. Oliver is lounging on my bed in his normal, casual attire of jeans and a plain T-shirt, and Allison is sitting on her own bed. I shoot him a look. “What did I say about shoes on my bed, Oliver?”
He takes his time kicking them off, staring at me the whole time. That’s Oliver, though—always teasing, like an annoying brother. He’s also Allison’s boyfriend, but he may as well be chopped liver right now with how focused she is on her computer screen. Allison’s dedication to school is something I love about her. I think it’s part of what made us such good friends when we met in freshman year. We’re practically sisters. Hell, we look so alike we could be. That paired with our shared love of reading sealed the deal. Our friendship was fate. She’s been my rock since Adam got sick the first time, which is only further proof that we’d do anything for each other.
I drop my backpack and fall into the chair with a heavy sigh. Our standard size room couldn’t fit more than two beds, two dressers, and two desks, which is a shame because I’d love to have a bookshelf in here.
“Did you get homework dumped on you this week, too?” I ask Allison.
She nods without looking up and pushes her wavy blond hair away from her round face. She must’ve had an early class this morning because she skipped her makeup routine.
“It’s not fair,” she mumbles, continuing her typing rampage.
Oliver hollers and shoots his fist into the air, startling both Allison and me.
“What the hell, Oliver?” Allison huffs as she closes her laptop.
He looks up from his phone. “We’re going to a party. Tonight. Get ready. Right now.”
My stomach flutters. “The one off campus?” Was he talking about the one Grant invited me to?
“Hell, yeah. C’mon!” He jumps off my bed and shoves his hand through his sandy brown curls. He puts his shoes back on while humming under his breath before standing upright. Oliver towers over my five-foot-three frame, but he doesn’t have much muscle on him.