2. Liam

Iwake up at six a.m., naturally, before the alarm even has a chance to sound off. Stretching, I feel my muscles wake up, responding to the familiar routine. Slipping quietly out of bed, I'm careful not to disturb my roommates, who are still sleeping soundly. I quickly slip into my running gear, its familiar fabric a silent comfort against my skin.

Stepping out into the early morning air, the campus is still and quiet, almost serene. There's a certain peace in being the only one awake, a solitude that I've come to cherish in my years here at Silverbrook University. My feet find the rhythm on the pavement almost instinctively, carrying me through the empty paths and green spaces.

As I run, I can't help but reflect on the fleeting nature of time. This is my last year here—my last year of what feels like true freedom. These years have slipped through my fingers like sand, each one faster than the last. It's a bittersweet realization, this impending end of an era.

I pass by familiar buildings and landmarks, each one etched with memories of the years gone by. This place has been more than just a school to me—it's been a haven, a crucible, a playground.

But as much as I want to hold on to these moments, I know that change is inevitable. The real world awaits, with all its challenges and uncertainties. For now, though, I have this run, this moment of solitude before the day begins in earnest. And I plan to make the most of it.

I get back from my run, the campus gradually coming to life as I make my way to our house. Stepping inside, I find Ethan already up, nursing his energy drink.

It's way too early to drink this kind of poison. I head to the fridge with a stride that's become second nature, my movements fluid from years of disciplined physical training. Retrieving a bottle filled with my kale and algae smoothie, I then turn toward him.

"Rough night?" I ask Ethan. My British accent often adds an unintended touch of judgment to even the most casual conversations. I unscrew the cap of the smoothie bottle, taking a sip without a wince despite the grim taste. My concern for Ethan is genuine, but I can't help the hint of amusement in my clear green eyes. It's too early for this, but someone's got to keep an eye on these lads.

"You can say that," Ethan mutters, clearly not in the mood for a chat. I suspect it's not the hangover type of rough, but something deeper, something he's not ready to share.

I take another sip of my smoothie, feeling the blend of nutrients kick-starting my system. "You understand that this stuff's like poison, right? Do you even realize what's in it?" I say, nodding toward his can of energy drink. I try to keep my tone light and non-accusatory, but the concern is there, buried beneath layers of casualness.

"Not now, Liam," he grumbles, his eyes rolling in familiar mock annoyance and underlying respect. It's the usual response, but I keep trying. Maybe one day, it'll stick.

"Bull sperm!" Cole appears in nothing but his boxers, his presence instantly changing the dynamic in the room. He's the volatile one of our trio, always a whirlwind of energy and emotion. I still can't quite figure out what made me decide to get roommates after two years of solitude. Maybe it was Uncle Jake's insistence that I needed to embrace the whole college experience. He's been the only one in my family supportive of my decision to pursue this path—what my parents deem "this insanity."

While my parents still see my time at Silverbrook as a temporary detour from the "real world" they've planned out for me, Uncle Jake understands. He gets that this experience is about more than just academics; it's about growth, about finding out who I am outside of the expectations and plans they've laid out for me.

"There's no bull sperm, you asshole, and nobody needs to see your fucking dick so early in the morning," Ethan shoots back, barely hiding his annoyance.

"That's not what your girl said," Cole quips, the mischief in his eyes betraying his enjoyment of the banter.

Ethan doesn't rise to the bait as usual. Instead, there's a shadow over his face, a hint of something unresolved. It's then that he asks me, "Are you still seeing the secretary from admissions?"

I take a nonchalant sip of my smoothie. "Occasionally," I reply. My one rule is no students—it keeps things uncomplicated. Plus, Ethan and Cole don't seem to mind the indirect benefits of my policy.

Ethan's next question catches me slightly off guard. "Can you dig up some info on Poppy Lockwood for me? She's a transfer or something." There's an unusual edge to his voice, something that speaks of more than just curiosity.

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why the sudden interest in this Poppy?"

Cole's laughter cuts through the tension. "Remind me again how you're not obsessed."

Ethan's response is a middle finger, but his gaze stays fixed on me, expectant. I look from him to Cole, sensing an undercurrent of something unspoken, something more than just a passing fancy.

This moment underscores a subtle disconnect between us.

We're only a little more than two years apart—they're both nineteen, and I'm twenty-one. All born into legacy money, but it's our upbringing that sets us apart. Despite my attempts to immerse myself in the "college experience," my future role in society and my deeply ingrained moral code always loom large. I'm living as normally as a rich boy in an elite school can, but there are rules, unspoken and etched in stone.

It's not that Ethan and Cole lack a moral compass; it's just that theirs points in a different direction than mine. But they do possess a carefree view of life that I can't afford, a certain reckless abandon that strengthens their bond, a bond I sometimes find myself envying.

"She's got our Ethan all twisted up," Cole adds with his characteristic smirk, referring to this mystery girl. "Check out her friend too, Evangeline Sinclair."

Ethan is quick with his comeback. "It's funny… She never said her name." There's a hint of pride in his tone, a sharp contrast to Cole's playful teasing.

Cole's expression remains unchanged, but there's an unmistakable challenge in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the game they're both playing. Ethan has his morals, sure, but Cole? He sometimes walks a dangerous line when he wants something. The fact that he's showing interest in a girl raises alarm bells for me.

I'm about to interject when I realize it might be better if I'm involved, even marginally. Perhaps I can offer some damage control if things go south. Sure, I might be a bit of an outsider in their world, but they are my friends. They accept me as Liam Ashford, nothing more, nothing less. And that simple fact makes all of this—the early morning banter, the underlying tensions, the unspoken bonds—worth it.

"What the fuck ever." I sigh, resigned. "I'll get the info, but you girls better get your asses moving and be ready to go in forty-five minutes because this favor will cost you." I head to my room to change, knowing full well that these favors always come at a price.

As I leave them, there's a palpable tension in the room. Ethan and Cole, each wrapped up in their own complications. And from the sound of it, Poppy Lockwood is at the center of Ethan's.

After a refreshing shower and getting dressed, I make a quick detour to the admissions office before heading to the gym. The moment I step in, Simone's demeanor shifts noticeably. She straightens up in her chair, her red hair cascading over one shoulder as she flashes me her most flirtatious smile.

Simone is undeniably beautiful, but that's not the only reason I'm drawn to her. At twenty-nine, she understands the nature of our arrangement—it's casual, fun, nothing more. I've always been up front about my intentions. I don't lead women on or give them false hopes about a future that I can't commit to. I prefer older women for this reason; they know the score and there's no drama, no misinterpretations.

"Liam Ashford," she purrs, her voice dripping with a sultriness that feels a bit overdone for the setting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I lean in, playing along with a flirtatious smile. "Can't I just come to see the most beautiful woman on campus on my way to the gym?"

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she's pleased, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "What do you need?" she asks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"I need some info on a student. Poppy Lockwood," I say, maintaining my casual tone. "She's likely a transfer, probably a sophomore. And something on her roommate, too, a Sinclair."

Her response catches me off guard. "Oh, you're looking into girls now? Should I be jealous?"

Alarm bells ring in my head. I picked Simone for the lack of drama. Our mutual understanding. This comment treads dangerously close to territory I want to avoid. "Why should you be? You know it's just fun and sex between us, right?"

"Yes, of course," she says quickly, waving her hand dismissively, but her deepening blush tells a different story. I'm treading on thin ice here. She's getting attached, possibly seeing more in our arrangement than what it is. "Come over tonight. I'll have your answers then."

"Sure, text me when you're ready," I say, leaving Simone's office. It's clear I need to end things with her tonight—she's getting too attached. But as I head to the gym, my mind keeps returning to the girl from the café. She was different—her bright-blue eyes and bold red lips a stark contrast to anyone I've met here. Her goth style isn't my usual type, yet she stirred something in me.

Shaking my head, I try to dismiss the thought. I don't even know her name, and that's for the best. Getting involved with someone like her is asking for trouble, the kind I'm not looking for.

I push open the gym doors, determined to focus on my workout. Physical exertion usually clears my mind, but as I start, her image—those piercing eyes, that defiant presence—lingers stubbornly in my thoughts.

As I settle into my sweats for an evening of football, Manchester City versus Liverpool, my phone interrupts the calm, signaling a text from Simone.

Simone: Got your info. Come to my place?

Knowing what Simone likely has in mind, I hesitate for a moment. There's a part of me that considers just calling it a night, but the curiosity about the information she's gathered nudges me out the door.

When I arrive at Simone's, she answers the door in nothing but red lingerie, her intentions clear. I can't deny she looks enticing, but my mind is elsewhere.

"Well, if it isn't Silverbrook's most eligible bachelor," she purrs, stepping aside to let me in. "I was beginning to think you'd stood me up."

I force a chuckle, stepping into her warmly lit apartment. "Stand you up? Not my style, Simone," I reply, offering a hint of flirtation to keep the peace.

As she closes the door, her eyes linger on me with an intensity that's both inviting and slightly calculated. "I hope you're here for more than just the info," she teases, walking past me with a sway in her hips that I know is for my benefit.

I follow her to the living room, where the papers are spread out on the table. "You know I can never resist your charms," I say, keeping the tone light, though my focus is already on the documents laid out.

She leans in close, her hand lightly brushing mine as I reach for the papers. "It took some digging to find what you wanted. There were a few Poppys admitted this year and no Lockwood though. I managed to find her with a cross-reference to one of her roommates—Evangeline Sinclair. I expect a proper thank you," she whispers, her breath warm against my ear.

I glance at her, meeting her expectant look. "You'll get it, Simone. You always do," I assure her, though I'm careful to keep my tone noncommittal. My mind races through the pages, wondering about the girl who has Ethan so worked up.

"Take your time with the papers; I'm not going anywhere," she says with a little laugh, but there's an edge in her voice.

I quickly glance at her as she sits on the sofa, taking a suggestive pose that leaves nothing to the imagination. I know what she expects, me jumping on her and looking at the papers later. She's beautiful enough to expect this, but I'm not in the mood, and if it weren't for the promise I made to Ethan, I wouldn't be here at all.

I sigh, looking back at the papers in my hand. I look at the girl—Poppy Donovan—nineteen… She looks cute, yes, but she's not a groundbreaking beauty, not someone I expected to turn Ethan's brain upside down. But then again, what do I know about Ethan Hawthorne's true taste in women? The second one, Evangeline Sinclair, possesses a kind of innocent beauty that instantly makes me feel sorry for her, having attracted Cole's attention. On his best day, this man is like a bull; one can only pray for that girl's sanity.

I turn the page, and I freeze at the view of the third roommate. The girl from the café is staring back at me, a scowl on her face that almost makes me smile. The name Vanessa Caldwell jumps out at me, and as I read on, Simone's presence fades into the background. I wince at her age. Fuck, she's only eighteen. The fact that she's so young hits me harder than I expected. With my twenty-second birthday looming, the age gap feels like more than just numbers—it's a gulf of life experiences and choices.

Suddenly, Simone's hand trails up my arm, her body pressing against mine, but my feeble desire is dampened by the entire situation.

"That's amazing, thank you," I say, kissing her forehead in a gesture of gratitude rather than passion.

Simone moves closer, deliberately allowing the soft curve of her body to brush against my arm, a silent invitation left hanging in the air. "What if we took the rest to the bedroom?"

I look at my watch and let out a sigh; it's late enough to be a viable excuse. "I'm sorry, babe, but it's getting late, and we have our first training session tomorrow. I really should get some rest."

"Come on, you don't have to stay all night," she insists. Okay, more alarm bells ring—she's not only jealous, she's clingy too. That's really the end of it.

"No, I have to go," I say a little more sternly. "I'm the captain, Simone—I need to be there in top form, and you have a way of tiring me," I add, trying to soothe her.

I notice a shadow of disappointment in her eyes, quickly hidden behind a practiced smile. It's moments like these that remind me of the complexity of our arrangement.

"Soon?" she asks, a note of hope in her voice that tugs at my conscience.

I nod, not committing. I actually hate lying to her, and I will end things but not right now when she's dressed like that and she's in her apartment. I'll do that tomorrow in a public place. Less drama.

"Well, thanks again." As I leave Simone's, the revelations hang heavy on my mind, casting a web of questions I hadn't anticipated. In the quiet of the night, I find myself grappling with thoughts of Vanessa, Poppy, and Evangeline, each bringing their own set of unknowns into my well-constructed world.