1. Violet

1

Violet

August

B eep. Beep. Beep.

Slamming on the dismiss button, I jolt out of bed, eager to start my first day of college classes. I’ve been waiting for this day all summer. I finally have something to look forward to. I can continue to move my life in a positive direction from where it’s been the past year.

“ Yes, ” I whisper to myself as I get ready. I keep it simple with jogging shorts and a T-shirt. That might as well be my uniform at this point. I never liked to dress up, especially for school. Dressing to impress was never part of my routine, but I make up for it in all the ways that count. I saunter to the bathroom, brush my teeth, run my hot pink straightener through my tousled brown hair, and head to the kitchen for a granola bar that I carefully chose and laid out last night. My nerves get the best of me, and a big breakfast wouldn’t lend well to that.

My best friend and roommate, Hartley, stands sleepily as he makes himself a cup of coffee. He looks completely disheveled, and if I know him, he probably stayed out partying for most of the night—the night before the first day of classes. Yep, ladies and gentlemen, that’s my best friend for you. He's probably not worried about it since he's always been handsome and charming enough to talk his way out of anything. His usual games don’t work on me. We’ve known each other too long, been there for each other through too much to be anything but real with each other.

“Good morning, Hart,” I say as I squeeze by him to grab my granola bar. “Let me guess, up all night?” I laugh lightly as I give him a playful shove.

“Come on, Vi, you know it's too early for an interrogation. I have practice this morning, then a full day. No time for a nap, and you know how I get without a nap,” he says as he yawns loudly in my face. Ugh, he’s so annoying.

“Well, you wouldn’t need a nap if you got to sleep at a decent hour. It’s the first day of class, Hart. You need to take this year seriously. College isn’t all about football, you know. You need to bring your GPA up this year to even think about graduating on time.”

“Why are we roommates again?” he says with that smirk that brings half the girls on campus to their knees. I’m not sure why he bothers. I’m part of the other half. A few years ago, we started calling each other brother and sister. It just makes sense.

“Alright, alright, you and I both know you’re right. Come give me a hug, will ya? My little sis is headed off to her very first college class.”

I fall into him like I’ve done so many times in the past. He is home. He’s always been my constant. Even more so since my grandpa passed away last year, and I had to figure out life on my own. I’ve been his anchor every time his dad abandoned him, always left to pick up the pieces. I guess we both were. We’re both a little–scratch that, a lot –broken, but all we have is each other, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s why I’m here at Springs College, not the local community college. I’ve never struggled in school. I consider myself academically gifted. It’s both a blessing and a curse. I’m already a year ahead in college with all of the credit courses I took in high school.

“I’m nervous,” I confess candidly.

“You’re gonna kill it. School was made for you.” He fiddles with my hair giving me confidence in myself.

“Thanks, Hart.”

“Vi, class doesn’t start for another hour. You don’t have to rush out.” He playfully shoves me.

“You must have forgotten that I’m not a football star. Just a regular college girl.” I love teasing him about football.

Perfection is the only option, and I will not let myself down. I can’t. Hartley is the exact opposite. He lacks effort in school and tries his best to avoid work and assignments at all costs. Hartley is exceptional at the game. He’s played since we were little kids. His dad signed him up to keep him out of trouble, and he’s been a star ever since. He’s always been the best and fastest player on every team and is downright amazing to watch. Football keeps him going. Last year was the first of his games I missed because Springs U was too far to travel, so I’m pumped to see him on the field again. If I wasn’t there for him, who else would be? We are each other’s biggest fans.

Hartley is twenty, and I’m eighteen. He always helped pave the way for my decisions because I needed him like a big brother. He makes sure I’m okay. He has always watched out for me since elementary school. He’ll put anyone in their place that gives me trouble. He gave me a place to stay when I suddenly lost mine. Hartley is my protector, so when he got a full-ride athletic scholarship to Springs U in Florida, I made it my mission to get accepted the following year. It wasn’t hard. I’ve always gotten straight A’s because I’m meticulous like that. So here we are–roommates, best friends, and most of all, family.

“See you later, Hart. Don’t be late for class!” I run out the door and hope that this will be the best year of my life.

The dripping condensation from my nine-dollar dose of caffeine in the form of a loaded tea wets my warm hands as I hustle to my first class, ready to take on the world. I’m the first person to arrive, and I like it that way. I need control. Picking my seat gives me that. Being first one here helps me avoid the eyes that would track my entrance making me more self conscious than I already am. I make sure I use the restroom before class and have a chance to set out my notebooks, pens, and highlighters. I have always been like this, needing to control the little things. Does it stress me out? Sometimes. Does it stress me out more if I don’t do it? Definitely.

My professor walks in, sophomore-level English. I earned college credit during my senior year of high school for the freshman-level course. Take that college. So, I’m starting my freshman year as a second-year student.

Fifteen minutes after class starts, I hear the classroom door creak open, inviting my eyes to the late comers. Hartley strolls in with a friend, and they creep to the very back of the classroom. This is why I didn’t wait for him this morning. I look back toward him, and he gives me the goofiest smile as he waves. He doesn’t have a care in the world, but my heart stops when I accidentally lock eyes with his friend.

He is striking. He's tall, very tall. Hartley is easily a head above me, and this guy towers over him. He has jet-black hair, a black shirt, and athletic shorts. His shirt has a small logo that reads Springs U Football. I’m able to spot that logo from a mile away with the amount of team clothes Hartley leaves around the apartment. Of course, he’s on the team with Hartley. He stares at me as if time has stopped and just the two of us are in the room. His feet stop moving to a desk as he takes me in. I quickly focus back on the professor because I hate missing anything. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I reorganize the pens on the desk. My palms are sweaty, and I’m distracted. That couldn’t be right.

He must be staring at the professor, right? Why am I so concerned about this?

I peek back to see if Hartley found a seat. Once again, our eyes connect, and the mystery boy gives me a small smirk. He was definitely staring. I shove mystery boy to the back of my mind and listen to the professor review our class expectations. Tapping my pen keeps me focused and in the moment. When class is dismissed, I make my way to introduce myself to the professor. You know what they say: You only have one chance to make a first impression. As I walk to the podium, I freeze, my head snapping around when I hear Hartley scream my name.

“Vi! Let’s go, lunch on me.”

Why is he so embarrassing? He knows I hate being the center of attention. I reluctantly sigh. I guess the professor knows who I am now. I turn to face Hartley and his intense friend. I gesture for him to give me one minute to properly shake my professor’s hand. After the short introduction, I find Hartley and his friend outside of the classroom.

As Hartley leads the three of us toward the Springs U dining hall, he babbles about his morning practice and how the wide receivers’ coach had no mercy on him or the rest of the team, blah blah blah. I tell Hartley how I arrived early to class to set up my things. He knows this is my ritual by now, so he gives me a side hug. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

His intense friend is still silent. Do I smell? Did I say something wrong? He looks like he’s angry about something. How could he be? It’s only 11:30 a.m., for crying out loud. We grab the daily offerings from the brunch buffet line and find a spot to sit at an open table.

I take the seat across from Hartley, and his friend grabs the one next to him. He catches me staring at his mysterious friend, clears his throat, and says, “Ryan, this is Violet. Violet, this is Ryan. Keep your hands off my little sis, and we’ll be good as gold.” He throws a french fry in his mouth. He’s so nonchalant, as if he didn’t just treat me like a child and embarrass me again.

“Hartley…” I scowl as I give him my meanest death glare, hopefully shutting him up.

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type,” Ryan snarks.

Ummmm, excuse me? Not his type? Who said he is my type? Why is he so incredibly rude when he doesn’t even know me?

“Ok, totally unnecessary, but what makes you think I would want to date you?” I ask with fiery eyes.

“Just a gut feeling, sweetheart. I don’t date, and you’ve got stage-five clinger written all over your face.” He smirks and takes a long gulp of his water. I try my best not to stare as his throat works the water down. Get it together, Violet.

I hate it, but he’s right. He’s not my type, and I’m not his. I don’t know if I even have a type. I’ve never had a real boyfriend. I’ve kissed a few boys at high school dances, but that’s about it. My friends are usually Hartley’s friends, and he always forbids his teammates to come within ten feet of me. His protective side started when he caught me kissing one of his teammates in high school. I would always wait around at Hartley’s practices until he could drive us home, and it would give me time to get ahead on homework and studying. I had a mega-crush on one of the running backs. We eye-flirted shamelessly in the halls and across the field. One day, he finally talked to me. That practice ended with his tongue down my throat and Hartley smashing him against the brick wall. Needless to say, he never spoke to me again. It’s annoying and not his place, but I’ve allowed him to do this for so long that it’s too late to fight him on it.

“Well, you have nothing to worry about, Royce . That was your name wasn’t it? I don’t date football players. Living with Hartley is enough to handle.” Take that.

“My name is Ryan , and yeah, it’s kinda weird that you live with your brother.” He shoots back at me with glaring eyes and an “I’m better than you” energy. I choose to ignore him and continue the conversation solely with Hartley.

“Anyways, Hartley , what other classes do you have today?” If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. He really should have learned that long ago.

“I’m headed to Biology, and it's going to suck because I didn’t buy the digital textbook yet,” Hartley groans.

“Hart, you’ve known about the class requirement for months. What the heck? You’re not nervous going to class unprepared?” I could never attend a class feeling that unprepared. My pulse races for him. I notice Ryan’s gaze out of the corner of my eye. He’s staring daggers at me. Heat creeps up my neck at the intensity of his eyes on my body.

“He’ll be just fine. You’re wearing Springs U football gear, right?” Ryan asks. Sure, wear Springs U football gear and get preferential treatment. My eyes flash to him with annoyance, my jaw tightening as my teeth clench.

“Are you saying that he should get a pass because he’s a football player?” I ask with passive-aggressive curiosity.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The minute the professor sees his Springs U football shirt, he won’t question him.” He leans back in his chair with a smug grin. His arms crossing over his chest making his sleeves tighten over his biceps, and I can’t help but stare. His eyes rake down my upper half and halt at my chest for a moment before locking eyes again.

“Some of us don’t have a choice but to be prepared for class. We can’t all be all mighty college football stars.” My voice grows agitated from his blase take on college.

“Chill, sweetheart, you’re wound too tight. If you keep that scowl you’ll develop early wrinkles.” He leans his muscular arms on the table. He’s too close for comfort, and I’m not in the mood to continue arguing with him.

“Well, since it seems you already know so much about me, I think my time at lunch is over.” I give Ryan my best “sorry, not sorry” face.

“I’ve got to go to my next class. See you, Hart.” I hurriedly grab my stuff to get out of the table as quickly as I can. Hartley calls my name as I high-tail out the cafeteria. I went over my class schedule with him before leaving this morning, so he knows I don’t have another class until 2 p.m.

Why was that guy so rude? Does he really treat every girl he encounters like that? Well, Mr. Football can leave me alone from now on. I sure hope Hartley has other friends for us to hang around with because if he doesn’t, this is going to be a long year.