Chapter 1: Briar

brIAR

As the wrought iron front gates of the school come into view, I stop and take in the imposing front of Wolves Hollow University. Today will be so different from how I'd imagined it. For years, I looked to college as my escape. I thought I would go to school across the country. Free from expectations. Free from this shithole town. Free from him.

Instead, I'm just as firmly shackled as ever, twisted in a snare I see no way out of.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to think about something else. I shove all my longing for freedom into the steel box in my mind that houses the rest of my inconvenient feelings because feeling isn't safe.

Swinging my gaze across the lush lawn, towering pines, and twisting ivy-covered buildings, I survey the courtyard of my new school. That is, if you can even call this castle-like monstrosity a school.

A gray stone wall separates Wolves Hollow University from the road. Past the outer wall is a collection of towering buildings, complete with turrets, arched entryways, and winding staircases. These buildings house everything from classes to dorms to administrative offices—not that I'll ever see the inside of the dorms.

As a resident of the town of Wolves Hollow, I'm not allowed to live on campus. Wolves Hollow is a seemingly idyllic Pacific Northwest small town. Its picturesque pine forests, mountain views, and scenic nature trails make it seem like the perfect place to live.

I'd give almost anything to never see this city again, and I was on track to do just that. Life has a funny way of screwing me over just when my dreams are in reach, though. Instead of leaving Wolves Hollow for college, I have to live with my stepfather.

Lucky me.

Dorm life isn't glamorous, but I looked forward to living anywhere other than in that house.

Before I can get sucked into thoughts about another four years living at home, my phone chirps. My mood instantly improves when I see who it is.

Ava

Have a great first day of school, Rosie!!!!

My little sister, Ava, is the only one who gets away with calling me by my middle name—Rose. To everyone else, it's Briar.

Yep, my mom named me Briar Rose, like Sleeping Beauty. She always told me she named me Briar Rose to be as sweet as a rose and as fierce as its thorns. However, I think she went through a Disney princess phase right before I was born. I guess I'll never know.

Shaking off thoughts of my mom, I reply to Ava.

Thanks, Bun Bun. I'll give you a call when you're done with classes for the day. Love you.

Even though she's six hours away, I swear I can see Ava's eye roll at her nickname. It's not my fault she went through a bunny phase when she was little. At almost eight years older than her, I remember a lot about when Ava was a sweet baby and toddler, even though she wishes I'd forget the embarrassing parts of her childhood.

With my lips tipped up in a small smile at the thought of baby Ava, I glance at the screen again. After getting a heart emoji in response, I tuck my phone back in my bag.

Adjusting the strap so it doesn't dig as painfully into my back, I walk toward the Wyldhart building. I have most of my classes there. As a small, private college, WHU has only a few buildings for classes.

Being a first-year, my schedule consists of mostly general education requirements. It should be an easy semester. I took most of these classes online during the past couple years. Unfortunately for me, WHU doesn't accept online credits. So, I have to start all over as a freshman at twenty.

Stepping inside Wyldhart Hall, I take a second to smooth down my unruly jet-black hair that's so dark it looks navy at times. My raven hair only makes my fair skin and icy eyes look paler. My light blue eyes are from my mom. The black hair probably comes from my father. I don't know, though, as I don't remember him.

I pulled my hair into a loose French braid this morning in an attempt to tame it. It's only been a few hours and, already, tendrils are escaping and curling around my face and neck.

I glance at the time.

Shit.

I only have minutes to get to class. No time to fix my hair, then.

Giving up on my hair, I tug at my ridiculous blue-and-green-plaid skirt. As if having to go to college in this godforsaken town isn't bad enough, WHU has a uniform. Crisp, white button-up shirts and scratchy navy blazers are standard-issue for both boys and girls. Guys get to wear navy pants. Girls have to wear dark-blue-and-emerald tartan skirts with matching navy knee-high socks.

On my five-eight frame, the standard-issue skirt is way too short for my liking. It barely covers my ass, let alone comes down to my knees like it's supposed to.

I look like I'm trying to be a sexy schoolgirl in this ridiculous getup.

Knowing there's nothing I can do to make the skirt longer, I pull back my shoulders and lift my chin. The only thing worse than looking like I'm trying too hard is looking meek and terrified. While I'm scared shitless at having to spend four years here, I'm sure as hell not going to show it. I'm a professional at faking it until I make it, though I'm still waiting on the "making it" part.

With a neutral expression and confident strides, I pull open the heavy oak door to my first class and step inside.

The classroom has a soaring ceiling. Even though the room itself isn't huge, it feels airy with the vaulting. A wall of arched, leaded glass windows opposite the door lets the sunlight stream in from outside. The sunshine falls in stripes on the dark wood floors and across the gray stone walls.

At the front of the classroom, there's an old-fashioned blackboard. It looks pristine since it's the first day. The classroom slopes upward from the front. With tiered seating, students in every row have a good view of the professor. Although, he isn't here yet.

Luck must be on my side, for once, because a few seats are open in the second row, which is objectively the best row. Sitting in the first row looks too eager, and being too far back will make it almost impossible for me to hear the lecture.

As I make my way to an open seat in the second row next to the wall, I observe my fellow students. Most of the other freshmen chatter excitedly. With how much noise they make, it should be easy to get lost in the crowd.

Just the way I like it.

Sitting down at a worn, standard-issue desk-and-chair combo seems strangely anticlimactic. The dark green chair and beige desk are familiar. College is supposed to be a whole new chapter in my life. Yet here I am, sitting at the same shitty desks I had throughout high school.

I set my bag on the ground and start pulling out what I need for this class. As I rifle through it, I hear someone sit at the desk next to mine.

"Hi, I'm Rory!" Startled by the unexpected voice near my ear, I turn toward the sound and find my new seat neighbor staring expectantly at me. With white-blonde hair flowing in gentle waves down to her waist, petite stature, and porcelain pale skin, Rory looks delicate. Elven, even. Her perfect Cupid's bow mouth stretches in a wide grin as she waits for my response.

"Hi?" I murmur.

Jesus, Briar, no wonder you have no fucking friends when you're this painfully awkward. Pretty sure the lack of friends has to do more with my stepfather's stifling rules, but my snarky inner voice doesn't really care about that.

"We're going to be best friends!" Rory bounces in her seat as she announces our friendship, like it's a perfectly normal occurrence. Hell, maybe it is for her.

"Ror, you can't tell someone you're best friends. That's not how it works." The boy behind Rory looks like he's trying to smother a grin as he explains the rules of friendship. With the same white-blonde hair, sapphire eyes, and elven features, the boy looks almost exactly like Rory. They are definitely siblings, if not twins.

"Shut the fuck up, Rone. It works however the fucking hell I say it works." As Rory snarls at her maybe twin, I choke on a laugh. This girl isn't what I expected at all. I guess her angelic looks don't extend to her vocab.

Twisting back in her seat, Rory gives me another bright smile. "As I was saying, I'm your new best friend. And this negative Nancy is Ronan, my twin brother." Ronan gives me a wave and half smile over her shoulder. His presence is a calm counterpoint to Rory's loud declarations.

Spotting my unlocked phone on my desk, Rory snatches it before I have a chance to stop her. I let her mess with it because I don't want to make a scene in class. After a minute, Rory sets my phone back on my desk with a wink. "There, now I have your number and you have mine. I can just feel the best friend harmonizing happening!"

Anything else she was going to say is interrupted by the professor walking in the door. "Sorry I'm late, class." The professor's voice is deep, rumbling across the room.

Pulling my attention from Rory, I glance toward the front and suck in a surprised breath as I take in Professor Grimm.

Instead of the gnarled old man I anticipated, my statistics professor can't be more than a couple years older than me. He stands a few inches over six feet. Professor Grimm has broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscles for days. He looks more like a star football player than a college professor. He's wearing polished black dress shoes and black slacks that hug his powerful thighs. His dark gray button-down is rolled up, showcasing defined forearms. Blond stubble outlines Professor Grimm's strong jaw.

His golden blond hair is trimmed shorter on the sides and longer on top. It hangs slightly in front of his eyes in an intentionally tousled way.

What stops me in my tracks, though, are his eyes. He has the deepest green eyes I've ever seen. And they stare unblinkingly back at me. When our eyes connect, the rest of the classroom falls away. All I hear is static as I get lost in his gaze.

I don't know how long we stare at each other. It could be minutes or hours. Only a light tap on my shoulder forces me to look away. Turning to Rory, I see her furrowed brow and a question in her gaze. Mustering a smile, I try to tell her without words that I'm fine.

I don't know what the hell just happened, but I refuse to show how off-kilter I feel.

Clearing his throat, he introduces himself as Professor Xander Grimm. He launches into an explanation of his class, rules, and expectations.

During his speech, I see him glance more than once at my phone on my desk with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Thankfully, he doesn't call me out in front of the class for it. I plan to talk to him about it at the end of the period.

Absorbed in my thoughts, I struggle to pay attention to what he says. I'm startled when he dismisses us, having lost track of time. He's letting us out a couple minutes early. We have a few problems to work through for homework.

I quickly note the assignment down in my planner and begin to put my stuff away.

"What's your next class?" Rory asks as she haphazardly shoves everything in her bag. My skin crawls at the thought of putting anything away not in its proper place.

Humming, I try to remember my schedule. "Western Civ, I think." I pull out my schedule just to double-check. Sure enough, Western Civilization I is next.

Luckily, it isn't for another hour. I have time to talk to Professor Grimm.

"Me too! We can walk there together. I'm gonna stop by the café first, though." Rory flashes me a quick grin as she stands, slinging her bright pink backpack over her shoulder. Her bag is covered in more glitter than anything even Ava owns. The bright pink and sparkles fit her, though.

My own bag is just a plain cognac-colored leather satchel. It's nothing special, but it does what I need it to.

"Sorry. I need to talk to the professor before my next class." I offer a half shrug, hoping she knows I'm not blowing her off. Not that it matters, I guess. I don't exactly have time for friends.

"We'll see you there, then! I'll make sure to save you a seat." Rory's smile doesn't dim at my refusal. With a skip, she heads toward the door. Snagging her brother's hand, she offers me a wave and another grin before leaving.

Seeing their sibling dynamic makes my chest ache. I miss Ava something fierce. It's hard having her so far away, but it's for the best that she's at boarding school—the best for her, at least.

Rubbing my chest to try to get rid of the tight feeling, I make my way down the classroom's polished wood stairs.

Everything about Wolves Hollow University screams expensive. The stone buildings have soaring arches and slate roofs. Leaded glass windows overlook scenic cobblestone paths and mature trees. Uniformed students have perfect hair, designer shoes, and an air of superiority. It's clear WHU is only for the best of the best.

After all, my stepfather can only have his household seen attending top-tier schools. It doesn't matter that I don't want to go here or that I don't fit in. All that matters to my stepfather is appearances.

I reach Professor Grimm as he finishes talking with another student, and he swings his captivating gaze toward me as I approach. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks from being under his scrutiny.

Cursing my pale skin, I look down to gather my thoughts before speaking.

He beats me to it. "What can I do for you, Miss…?" Professor Grimm's voice is even more arresting up close. His smooth, deep timbre curls around me and draws me in. I'm also overwhelmed by his clean masculine scent. He smells like old pines and cold ocean spray. For some reason, it smells like home.

"Briar Wylder, sir." My voice comes out strong and steady, masking the nerves I'm trying hard not to show.

Professor Grimm is intimidating. Even leaning casually against the edge of his desk, he's still at least half a foot taller than me. At five foot eight, I rarely feel dwarfed by anyone, but Professor Grimm makes me feel tiny.

"Um, I wanted to ask you about accommodations. I've discussed it with the dean. He said asking my professors was the easiest way to get them. So, I thought I would check with you." As I pause to suck in a breath, I mentally facepalm. I'm nervously word vomiting all over Professor Grimm.

Good going. Ramble uncontrollably at the hot professor. That will totally show him you're not a brainless idiot.

Oh shit, I so do not need to be calling Professor Grimm hot, even in the privacy of my own thoughts.

That's just asking for trouble.

Besides, the poor guy probably has a ton of students fawning all over him. I bet it's annoying as hell. The last thing I want is to be yet another irritating, faceless student.

Locking all my unhelpful thoughts away, I look back at Professor Grimm. "I have auditory processing disorder. It makes it hard for me to understand and retain spoken information or follow oral directions. I want to get permission to record your lectures. Listening to info multiple times helps me remember better."

Rubbing his thumb over his full bottom lip, Professor Grimm considers what I said. "I'm not usually a fan of letting students record lectures." My stomach drops at his refusal. Before I can protest, he continues. "In this case, I'll make an exception." Professor Grimm runs his hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. Blowing out a breath, he fixes his startling forest green eyes on me. "Am I correct in assuming you'll struggle with oral participation in my class?"

My cheeks redden for a different reason this time. I know what people think of my auditory processing struggles. That I'm stupid. Slow. Lazy. I've heard it all. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. Somehow, the uncreative barbs manage to cause damage even today.

"Yes, sir." I duck my head to avoid the judgment I know I'll see on his face. Before I lower my gaze, I swear his eyes flash with heat.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Miss Wylder." At his sharp tone, I snap my eyes back to his. His deep voice ordering me around makes a shiver crawl up my spine. "Participation isn't a large portion of your grade, but it does make up around fifteen percent. Give me a few days to think of alternative assignments to oral participation. I'll have something figured out by Friday. I appreciate you informing me so we can work together to help you succeed."

At his kind words, tears prick the corners of my eyes. How long has it been since anyone other than Ava has shown me a shred of understanding?

Too long, apparently, given the breakdown I'm about to have.

Before I can embarrass myself any further, I quickly thank Professor Grimm and rush out the door.