Moonlight's Dark Secret

Chapter 2

First Day

By the time I arrived on campus, I was a jumble of nerves. Excitement and anxiety battled it out inside me like two boxers in the ring, but the nerves definitely won the round as soon as I stepped through the university gates. My palms were sweaty around the strap of my bag, and my heartbeat was way too loud for something as simple as walking across a courtyard.

I pulled out my phone again, thumb fumbling over the screen as I opened my schedule. Not like I hadn’t checked it about fifty times already. But what if the room number had magically changed in the last ten minutes since I’d left the house? Or worse, what if I had remembered it wrong and ended up barging into a calculus class instead of psychology?

The screen stared back at me with the same words it had shown the other fifty times.

Introduction to Psychology – Professor Jamie Sullivan – 2:05 p.m. – Psychology Building Room 207.

Right. Clear as day. My logical brain knew that. My anxious brain didn’t care.

I muttered the information under my breath like a prayer as I made my way across the campus: “Psych Building, Room 207. Two-oh-five. Jamie Sullivan. Intro Psych.” Over and over, as if repetition could magically anchor me. Because knowing me, the second I got distracted, I’d forget everything, have to dig out my phone again, and look like a complete mess in front of people who probably had their lives together.

The campus was sprawling—stone buildings with ivy climbing their walls, wide lawns where students lounged with laptops, a fountain where someone was tossing coins. The place smelled faintly of cut grass and coffee from the café on the corner.

This would be my world for the next four years. It felt huge, intimidating, but also… full of possibility.

I reminded myself why I was here in the first place. Psychology major. My plan, though it still felt strange to put it into words, was to become a social worker. To help kids who had it rough at home, the ones who didn’t have anyone in their corner. Because I knew what that was like. Thanks to my dad… father of the year… I carried those scars. But maybe they could become something useful. Maybe I could make sure another kid didn’t feel as alone as I had.

The thought gave me courage. At least enough to push me up the steps of the Psychology Building.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of old books and floor polish. My sneakers squeaked against the tiles as I climbed a flight of stairs. The hallway stretched ahead, doors lining both sides with little plaques above them.

203. 205. 207.

There it was.

I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes early. Typical. Early meant I wouldn’t have to rush and draw attention to myself later, though, so I slipped inside.

The lecture hall was bigger than I expected, stadium-style seating that could fit over a hundred students. The lights hummed softly, bouncing off the pale white walls. A few people were already scattered throughout, absorbed in their phones or laptops.

I slid into a chair near the front, three seats down from a girl who looked approachable... at least, her smile when she’d entered had been warm. I sat close enough that she could talk to me if she wanted, but far enough not to seem clingy. Perfect middle ground.

I’ve always been more of an introvert. Not shy exactly—I can be friendly when someone speaks to me—but I don’t usually initiate. It’s safer that way. Less chance of rejection.

The girl didn’t glance up. Her thumbs were busy flying across her screen, and I decided not to interrupt.

The minutes trickled by. My stomach knotted tighter with every tick of the clock until, finally, the professor entered.

She was younger than I expected, maybe late thirties, with short auburn hair pulled into a neat bun and glasses perched on her nose. She smiled warmly as she set her bag down, then picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board in looping letters:

Professor Jamie Sullivan – Introduction to Psychology – PSY101.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” she said, voice carrying easily across the hall. “I’m glad to see so many of you showed up today. This is Introduction to Psychology with me, Professor Jamie Sullivan. If that’s not what it says on your schedule, you’re in the wrong place.”

She paused, giving the stragglers a chance to flee. No one moved.

Professor Sullivan sighed dramatically, hand to her heart. “Good. It’s always so embarrassing for that one person who realizes too late they’ve been in the wrong class.”

Laughter rippled through the room, including mine. The tension in my shoulders eased a notch. I already liked her.

She launched into the syllabus—attendance policies, assignment breakdowns, exams. Her enthusiasm made the details less boring than they might have been, and I found myself scribbling notes diligently.

Then she said, “After we get through the syllabus, I’ll dive straight into Chapter One.”

Perfect. I flipped to a fresh page in my notebook, ready. Pen in hand, mind alert.

Except—two minutes into the lecture, my pen betrayed me.

It sputtered, scratched, then gave up entirely. The tip dragged across the paper leaving only faint ghost lines.

“No, no, no,” I muttered under my breath, shaking it desperately. Maybe if I just coaxed it…

Nothing.

I tossed it onto the desk in frustration and rummaged through my bag, fingers scrabbling in every pocket. Out of all the supplies I had carefully packed, I’d only brought one pen. Of course. Typical me.

Heat flushed my face as I kept searching, praying one would magically appear. The professor’s voice droned on, and I was already falling behind on notes.

Then, I felt a tap on my back...

I froze, then turned.

A guy was leaning slightly toward me, holding out a pen.

For a second, my brain short-circuited. He was… attractive. Curly brown hair, tousled like he’d just run a hand through it. Warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

I blinked, then managed a grateful smile. “Thank you.” I mouthed the words more than said them, not wanting to interrupt.

He nodded, as if it was nothing, and I took the pen like it was a lifeline.

Relief washed over me as I bent back over my notebook, scribbling fast to catch up.

The rest of the lecture blurred by in a whirl of notes and PowerPoint slides. When Professor Sullivan dimmed the lights to show a couple of short videos, my hand finally got a break. I leaned forward, resting my chin on my palm. Without thinking, I pressed the borrowed pen to my lips, the plastic cool against my skin.

Then I froze.

This wasn’t my pen. I was literally putting my mouth on a stranger’s pen. Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly lowered it to the desk, praying he hadn’t noticed.

When the class finally ended, students began packing up. I stalled, shoving papers into my bag slowly. The guy was still behind me, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to return the pen directly rather than just abandoning it on his desk.

He stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder. Panic flared.

“Wait!”

The word came out way too loud. Heads turned. The guy stiffened instantly, muscles tensing like I’d just threatened him.

Oh God. My face flamed. “Sorry! I just...uh—wanted to return your pen.”

I held it out sheepishly, managing a shy smile despite wanting the floor to swallow me whole.

For a moment, he just blinked. Then he chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He took the pen, slipping it into his shirt pocket.

“No problem,” he said, voice warm.

And just like that, he was gone, swallowed by the tide of students.

I exhaled shakily and gathered the rest of my things.

The walk home was a blur. I picked up coffee on the way, waved goodbye to my mom before she left for work, then settled in with Cindy.

We ate the pot roast she’d been craving, demolished brownies that left chocolate smudges on our fingers, and curled up for a bedtime story. By nine, she was asleep, breathing softly against her pillow.

The apartment was quiet after that, just the hum of the fridge and the faint city sounds through the window. I curled up with a new book I’d grabbed from the bookstore across from Ken’s, losing myself in its pages until Mom came home.

After saying goodnight to her, I finally crawled into bed, mind still buzzing from the day. My first lecture. My new goal. The stranger with the pen and those warm brown eyes.

Tomorrow would come too soon, but for now, I let the exhaustion win, drifting off with a strange mix of nerves and anticipation humming in my chest.