Chapter 5
1361 Words
Ravenwood’s campus looked almost offensively beautiful in the morning.
Sunlight spilled across old stone buildings and turned the stained-glass windows of the chapel into sheets of color. Students crossed the central lawn in neat groups, carrying iced coffee and looking as if they had spent their entire lives knowing exactly where they belonged.
I sprinted past them with my backpack slamming against my spine and my pink mug clenched in one hand.
The east stairwell did, in fact, save time.
I would not be thanking Adrian twice.
The science building rose at the far edge of the academic quad, all dark stone and arched windows outside, gleaming steel and glass within. I made it through the front doors with two minutes to spare, then immediately took the wrong staircase and lost both of them.
By the time I found Lecture Hall B, the professor had already begun speaking.
Every seat seemed occupied.
I hovered near the door, trying to become invisible.
The professor paused mid-sentence and looked toward me over the rim of narrow glasses.
“Ms. Harper.”
It wasn’t a question.
I straightened. “Yes.”
“You’re late.”
“Also yes.”
A few students laughed.
The professor glanced at the wall clock. “Take a seat.”
I scanned the room.
A tiny blonde near the middle waved both hands in the air as though directing a plane toward a runway. There was an empty seat beside her, currently occupied by an enormous floral tote bag.
I hurried down the aisle.
She yanked the bag out of the chair just before I reached it.
“You owe me your firstborn,” she whispered as I sat.
“I wasn’t planning on having children.”
“Then coffee.”
“That I can do.”
She smiled brightly. “I’m Chloe.”
“Evie.”
“I know.”
I looked at her.
She nodded toward the professor, who had returned to the lecture. “Scholarship winner. Your name was in the orientation booklet.”
Of course it was.
I sank slightly lower in my chair. “Great.”
“Don’t worry. I only read it because I was bored during the dean’s speech.”
“That makes me feel much better.”
“You should. I ignored almost everyone else.”
Chloe Bennett was small enough that her feet barely touched the floor beneath the lecture seat. Her blonde hair had been pulled into a messy ponytail, though several pieces had escaped around her face, and her hazel eyes seemed incapable of concealing a thought.
She glanced at the mug in my hand.
Her eyes widened.
“Your book boyfriend can kick my ass?”
“That depends on the book.”
“I already love you.”
I turned toward the front. “We’ve spoken for thirty seconds.”
“I’m efficient.”
The professor began outlining the course requirements, and the room filled with the sound of keyboards and pens. I opened my notebook, relieved to be somewhere familiar.
Atomic structure. Bonding theory. Thermodynamics.
Rules.
Patterns.
Things that could be understood.
Within minutes, the panic of the morning faded. My notes filled the page in neat, compact lines. The professor moved quickly, touching on material I had already studied and hinting at what would come later in the semester.
Beside me, Chloe wrote down approximately half the information and decorated the margins with tiny skeletons wearing lab goggles.
I tried not to look.
One of them held a beaker.
Another appeared to be on fire.
“You’re distracting me,” I whispered.
She grinned without stopping. “He’s demonstrating an exothermic reaction.”
“He’s dying.”
“Science is dangerous.”
The professor looked in our direction.
We both faced forward.
When the lecture finally ended, the room erupted into noise. Students began packing their bags and crowding toward the exits, many already discussing lunch plans or comparing schedules.
I slid my notebook into my backpack.
Chloe remained seated.
“So,” she said.
I looked at her. “So?”
“Are you always late, or was today special?”
“Today was special.”
“Good. I like reliability.”
“I’m reliably overwhelmed.” CT
“Perfect. We’ll get along.”
She hooked the floral tote over her shoulder and stood. “What’s next?”
“Calculus.”
Her face collapsed. “I’m sorry.”
“You?”
“Anatomy lab. Which sounds fun until you realize they expect me to know things.”
“Are you pre-med?”
“Nursing.” She began walking beside me as we joined the flow of students leaving the lecture hall. “My mother is a nurse, my aunt is a nurse, and my grandmother was a nurse. It was either continue the family legacy or fake my death.”
“Nursing seemed easier?”
“Marginally.”
Outside the classroom, she caught my sleeve before I could turn down the hall.
“Wait. Important question.”
I braced myself. “Okay.”
“Do you have plans Friday night?”
The answer came automatically. “Study.”
“That isn’t a plan. That’s a cry for help.”
“I like studying.”
“No one likes studying on the first Friday of college.”
“I do.”
“You haven’t experienced the first Friday of college yet.”
“I can extrapolate.”
Chloe stared at me for a beat. “You’re adorable.”
“I’m not.”
“You brought a romance mug to chemistry.”
“I was late.”
“That does not explain the mug.”
I tightened my grip around it. “What happens Friday?”
“A party.”
The word alone made my shoulders tense.
Chloe must have noticed, because her tone softened. “Nothing terrifying. Just an off-campus house. Music, people, bad drinks, worse decisions. The usual.”
“I don’t really do parties.”
“Have you been to one?”
“Birthday parties.”
“Those do not count after age twelve.”
“I went to a graduation party once.”
“Did someone’s mother cut a sheet cake?”
“Yes.”
“Also doesn’t count.”
I adjusted my backpack. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to decide now.”
There was no pressure in her voice, which somehow made it harder to dismiss the invitation.
She pulled out her phone. “Give me your number.”
I hesitated.
“I moved my bag, saved you a seat, and protected you from public humiliation. We’re already bonded.”
“Biologically or emotionally?”
“Legally, probably.”
I laughed and gave her my number.
She immediately sent me a text.
CHLOE: Hi best friend.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
I looked at her.
She smiled. “Now you have mine.”
“You could have just said your number.”
“This was more memorable.”
We reached the central stairwell, where our paths divided.
“Friday,” she said, walking backward toward the lower level. “Think about it.”
“I will.”
“And wear something scandalous.”
“I don’t own anything scandalous.”
She looked pointedly at my pink mug. “I have faith in you.”
Before I could respond, she disappeared down the stairs in a swirl of blonde hair and floral canvas.
I stood there for a moment, surrounded by students moving with purpose in every direction.
A party.
The sensible answer was no.
Parties meant crowds, noise, strangers, and the possibility of losing control over a situation. They meant watching people drink until their voices changed. They meant laughter that became too loud, movements that became unpredictable, and exits that suddenly felt farther away than they had when you entered.
But Chloe had asked as though she genuinely wanted me there.
Not the scholarship winner.
Not the girl whose name had been printed in the orientation booklet.
Me.
I looked down at her text again.
Hi best friend.
Against my better judgment, I smiled.
Then I saw the time and started running to calculus.
- Writer
