I went from zero to sixty without ever tapping the brakes, and eventually I spun out. So here I am, back to zero, hunkered down, paying for all my fun. Was it worth it? Yes, I’d say so. Am I completely aware that I’m reversing course, going from sixty to zero without ever finding a reasonable middle ground? Yes again.
I got good grades in high school, but high school wasn’t hard. College is. Burnham is my dad’s alma mater, which is the only reason I got in, and it’s prestigious for a reason. Their alumni boast two presidents, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, and a Supreme Court Justice. Professors will fail you if they don’t think you’re trying hard enough or if they think you’re phoning it in. It’s not enough to show up and complete all your assignments—they want to know you tried. And last year, I did not try. Hence my scholarship getting slashed in half, my parents kicking in for the missing tuition this year, and me moving in with Kellan McVey, my new study buddy.
I may have gotten a C-in Stats last year, but even I know the odds of this arrangement failing.
chapter three
Okay, so it’s possible I’ve been making a bigger deal out of this “Kellan McVey’s my roommate thing” than is strictly necessary. I mean, he’s just a guy. A guy who comes home after a mid-morning soccer game in the rain, strips off his soaking wet jersey as he crosses the living room, and grins at me before disappearing into the bathroom.
Have I mentioned that Kellan is ripped? Like, how-is-that-real ripped? Because he is. And while I’d like to pretend it’s the peanut butter sandwich I’m eating that has my mouth watering, it’s not. The heated feeling spreading through my belly has nothing to do with mealtime, either, and everything to do with the fact that I haven’t actually been with anybody since that time in the closet with Kellan.
Four long months ago.
I firmly close and lock the door on the dirty thoughts trying to penetrate my studious haze, and focus on taking my plate to the sink when Kellan comes out of the bathroom in shorts and…that’s it. Just shorts. His dark curls wet and shiny, a tiny drop of water working its way between his pecs and down over his six pack and—
“Any plans today?” Kellan asks, joining me in the tiny kitchen and pulling a leftover bowl of mac and cheese out of the fridge. He sticks it in the microwave and punches a few buttons, the soft whir of the fans filling the air.
“Ah, just work,” I say. “I start at two.”
“No last act of rebellion before school starts?” It’s Labor Day, and classes officially begin tomorrow. I’ve got five courses and two tutorials, and juggling school and work should be more than enough to keep me out of trouble.
I shake my head, since forming words poses a greater challenge than I’m up for. I’ve already seen Kellan’s soap in the bathroom, but smelling it on his freshly washed body is its own brand of olfactory torture. I rack my brain to think of something witty or intelligent to say, but can only come up with, “What are you going to do?”
“Eat,” he says promptly, the microwave obeying the command and politely beeping. Kellan removes the bowl, stirs, and takes a bite, nodding his satisfaction. If I have learned one thing about Kellan in our three days as roommates, it’s that he wasn’t lying when he said he loves mac and cheese. He buys it in bulk and one of our four kitchen cupboards is stocked with boxes of it. I mean, I like a bowl of mac and cheese as much as the next girl, but in this quantity it’s kind of gross. Though it’s hard to think of mac and cheese as anything but sexy and delicious when it’s being forked into the mouth of a shirtless Kellan McVey.
“Well,” I begin, ready to make my escape and hopefully not embarrass myself by drooling.
“What’d you say you were studying?” Kellan asks, boosting himself onto the counter and settling in.
Is this happening? Are we…talking? Just me and Kellan McVey?
“I’m undecided,” I hear myself say, my voice blessedly normal. “I’ve got a bit of everything this year. You’re doing sociology, right?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs carelessly. “It seems like a safe bet. A good base. You can go a lot of ways with it.”
“Sure.” I take a sip of water and try not to look like I’m loitering in my own home. I want to have a conversation with Kellan. I want this to be a thing we do. I tossed the cardigan into the back of my closet the second I unpacked, and though the corsets and leather mini-skirts are stuffed back there too, I don’t want him to see me as the uptight budding librarian he met at our first meeting.
In deference to the rainy weather, I’m wearing jeans and a turquoise flannel shirt, which fits well and shows off my figure, not that he seems to notice. After a lengthy moment of awkward silence, I sigh and turn to go.
“Hey,” he says.
I stop. “Yeah?”
“You pass the Frat Farm when you go into town, right? For work?”
I pretend I have to think about it, that I haven’t spent a lot of time at the Frat Farm. “I guess so.”