CHASE
Dalton University was everything the brochure promised and nothing I wanted.
The campus looked like it had been designed by someone who’d never actually been to college—old stone buildings draped in ivy, quad stretching green under late-summer sun, the hockey facility gleaming like a cathedral to the sport I’d built my entire identity around. My dorm was in the athletic housing block: newer, nicer than standard, with a view of the practice rink from my third-floor window.
Marcus listened exclusively to Luke Bryan and snored like a chainsaw being fed through a wood chipper—okay, only on the first night he snored. After that he mostly just breathed like he was auditioning for Darth Vader.
**Sloane:** *First day was fine. Castillo praised my article. The one about you. Ironic.*
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