Seth & Greyson, Page 2

  She blinks her attention to me and playfully nudges me in the shoulder. “Now don’t be arrogant. Just because we both decided to do the summer semester and we know where everything is, doesn’t make us better than them.”

  “Uh, yeah, it kind of does.” I roll my eyes at her absurd logic. “We’re like upper class freshmen.”

  She sips her coffee to hide her smile, something only I seem able to bring out. “You know there’s no such thing as an upper class freshman.”

  I sigh, running my fingers through my lightly tousled hair. “Yeah, I know, especially for people like you and me. We’re like two black sheep.”

  Which might be the truest statement I’ve ever said. Over the last three months, I’ve learned a lot about Callie and just how traumatic her past was. Raped by her older brother’s friend at twelve, Callie has spent the years since then hiding what happened and building a shell around herself, cloaking herself in ugly, baggy clothes and isolating herself from her friends until she had none left. I’ve made it my mission the last few months to push her out of her shell.

  Yeah, she’s still a work in progress. I have yet to get her to wear a dress, shorts, or anything remotely tight enough to show off her petite figure. I’m working on it, though.

  “There are many more black sheep out there than just you and me,” she disagrees with me, as she typically does. “And I’ve toned it down. I’m even wearing a red t-shirt today, like the list said to do.”

  My lips quirk. “Which would look even better if you’d let those pretty locks of yours down, instead of hiding them in that ponytail all the time.”

  “One step at a time,” she says. “It was hard enough just letting my hair grow out. It makes me feel weird. Besides, that has yet to be added to the list.”

  Aw, the infamous list, one of my most brilliant drunken plans. After a night of one too many shots of vodka, we confessed our darkest secrets and then I decided that we should make a list of things we’re most afraid to do. Over the last couple of months, we’ve been gradually working to cross items off.

  “Well, it needs to be. In fact, I’m doing it when I get back to my room. Plus, you’re still wearing that God-awful hoodie,” I say, tugging on the bottom of her ratty grey jacket. “I thought we talked about that hideous thing. That you’re beautiful and you don’t need to cover up. Besides, it’s like eighty degrees outside.”

  She wraps the jacket around herself. “Subject change, please.”

  I swing my arm around her and sigh, but give her exactly what she asks. “Fine, but one day we’re going to talk about a complete makeover, which I will supervise.”

  She sighs heavily. “We’ll see.”

  Her Debby Downer attitude is ruining my mood. As her best friend, it’s my job to cheer her up.

  I slam to a halt and whirl around in front of her. “I just have to say one more thing.” I place a finger to the corner of her eye. “I like the maroon eyeliner much better than the excessive black.”

  “I have your approval on that.” She presses her hand dramatically to her heart, a gesture she picked up from me. “I’m so relieved. It’s been weighing on my mind since this morning.”

  I roll my eyes as I smile. “You’re doing good in every department, I just wish you’d wear a dress or shorts or something for once and show off those legs of yours.”

  Her expression instantly sinks. “Seth, you know why… I mean, you know… I can’t…”

  “I know. I’m just trying to be encouraging.”

  “I know you are and that’s why I love you.”

  I want to hug her for saying that. It’s been a long time since anyone has said that they loved me. Even my mother has taken to a formal, “I’m glad you’re okay. Talk to you later. Bye,” whenever we talk on the phone.

  “You’re so much happier than when I first met you.” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I wish you could be this way around everyone, Callie. That you would stop hiding from everyone. It’s sad no one gets to see how great you are.”

  “And vice-versa,” she says, understanding me better than anyone ever has.

  Attempting to lighten the mood, I smirk and ask, “What do you think? Should we hit up one of the tours and make fun of the tour guide?”

  “You know the way to my heart.”

  We stroll up the sidewalk under the shade of the trees and make our way to the entrance. Everyone is in a state of panic, trying to figure out where to go. I watch the scatterbrained people, fully entertained as they trip over their own feet and grow frustrated when they take the wrong way.

  Through my twisted internal laughter, one guy in particular catches my attention. He’s standing in the stairway with a middle-aged woman and man who I’m guessing are his parents. A tad on the tall side, he’s wearing black jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt, an outfit that screams dark and edgy, which is a bit of a contrast to my blunt and bold. Still, he’s hot as hell with the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen and sandy blonde hair that looks absolutely touchable. A rush of terrifying excitement ripples through my body. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this attracted to someone. This guy has my adrenaline pumping to the point where I’m actually starting to sweat.

  Callie says something beside me and I nod, even though I have honest to God no idea what she said. My eyes are locked on the guy as he leans in and gives his mother a hug before moving to his father. When he turns away, his eyes catch mine from across the crowd. I should probably look away. I don’t know him and have no clue as to his sexual orientation, so openly gawking definitely isn’t me being careful. But his lips tug to a half-smile and I’m pulled in.

  Just. Like. That.

  “Holy sexiness,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Heads up,” someone yells from close by.

  I jerk my attention back to Callie just in time to see a solid guy with brown hair slam right into her.

  “Holy shit.” I slap my hand over my mouth as my tiny Callie falls flat on her back.

  Not only does she look hurt, but I can tell the contact is sending her into a panic.

  “Get off of me,” she yells as she wiggles to get out from under him. “Get off of me now!”

  I bend over to help her up, but the guy quickly pushes off her and Callie scrambles to stand up.

  “I’m so sorry,” the guy says, looking genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Callie blinks, clearly in a state of shock. “Kayden?”

  My eyes snap wide. “Holy shit.”

  The infamous Kayden Owens, a guy from Callie’s hometown. Callie stepped in to help Kayden one night right before she came to Laramie, stopping his father from beating the shit out of him. That story made me love her even more, and I secretly wished that she had lived in Mapleville so she could have done the same thing for me.

  She abruptly snatches hold of my hand, dragging me toward the entrance, and I suddenly remember Mr. Sexy Eyes. My gaze darts to the stairway, but my mood plummets when I can’t find him anywhere.

  Callie grips onto me as she steers us inside, letting go as she leans against the wall, struggling to regain her composure. “That was Kayden Owens,” she says between deep breaths.

  My eyes wander back towards the grassy courtyard, where Kayden stands talking to a hot guy who looks like he’s got his panties in a bunch. “The Kayden Owens. The one you saved, right?”

  “I didn’t save him.” She bites on her thumbnail. “I just interrupted something.”

  “Something that was about to get ugly.”

  “Anyone would’ve done the same.” She tries to walk off, but I grab her elbow and pull her back.

  She’s not getting away that easy. She needs to understand exactly how amazing she is.

  “No, a lot of people would’ve walked by,” I tell her. “It’s a common fact that a lot of people will turn their heads in the other direction. I know this from experience.”

  My heart tightens in my chest and for a faltering moment, I’m back in
the dirt with fists and feet flying at me. The air smells like hate and in the center of the violence, my body aches.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she says softly.

  “Don’t be sorry, Callie. You have your own sad story.”

  Offering me a sympathetic smile, we start down the hallway toward a line forming in front of a table stacked with neon pink flyers and pamphlets and plates full of baked goods.

  “He didn’t even recognize you.” I shove my way through the crowd to the front of the line and snatch up a pink flyer, along with two cookies. Sugar cookies. My fave.

  “He barely acknowledged me, ever.” She shakes her head when I offer her a cookie.

  “Well, he should recognize you now.” I nibble on a stale cookie. “You did save his ass from getting beat.”

  “It’s not that big a deal,” she says, shrugging me off. “Now, can we please change the subject to something else?”

  It’s the second time she’s asked me that today, and I decide it’s probably time to give her a break.

  Finishing off the rest of the cookie, I link arms with her and spin around, stopping abruptly when I slam into someone so hard it knocks the wind from me.

  “Jesus.” I step back, scowling overdramatically.

  When I see who I ran into, though, annoyance turns to holy shit my skin is on fire. Because Mr. Sexy Eyes in all is hotness is standing in front of me, rubbing his forehead.

  “Sorry about that,” I quickly apologize, quickly checking him out. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “It’s okay. It was kind of my fault… I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.” He lowers his hand to his side and his gaze flicks between Callie and me, slowly calculating something before offering a lopsided smile.

  I return his smile, but can’t think of anything to say. It’s been so long since I’ve flirted that even thinking about doing so sends me back to that night. I can almost feel the grit of the dirt in my mouth, can almost taste the foul tang of blood.

  Choosing a course that’s completely out of character for me, I seal my lips shut and walk around him.

  “Dude, we both must be cursed today,” Callie says as we push our way through the mob.

  “Cursed?” I ask, still slightly distracted over what happened with the sexy stranger. I already wish I could have a do-over, go back and say something. It’s been way, way too long since I flirted and I really do miss it.

  “Yeah, with running into people.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” I barely comprehend what she said, my thoughts instead swirling over the guy, who he is, whether he’s a freshman, if he’s thinking about me like I’m completely obsessing over him.

  I think about him a lot through freshman orientation, but unfortunately don’t see him again. Maybe it’s for the best. I’m still a little iffy on whether I’m ready to try dating again. Plus, I don’t know if this guy is available or even interested. He looked like he was interested, but I don’t know for sure.

  Besides, the cast only came off weeks ago and the wounds and scars are still as fresh as the memory behind them.

  Chapter 3

  Greyson

  I’ve always considered myself pretty lucky. I’ve had a good life, filled with mostly happy memories, and I have two of the most supportive parents. Still, I struggle with coming out of my shell. I’m not shy or anything, but I’m not the chattiest person, either. It makes it difficult to start freshman year at a college clear across the country from where I grew up, but after receiving a photography scholarship from the University of Wyoming, I decided to give a new location a try, embark on a new adventure.

  After spending my first weekend cooped up in the one-bedroom apartment my parents helped me rent, I’ve started to question whether I made the right choice.

  “You sound homesick, sweetie” my mother says over the phone. “Darn it. I’m not sure if I can think of anything you can take to cure it.”

  I bite back a chuckle. My parents are very hippy-ish and my mother is a huge believer in herbal remedies. She’s a self-proclaimed artist/tarot card reader and my dad’s an herbalist. Their quirky, offbeat personalities have made my life interesting, to say the least.

  “That’s okay.” I pull the tape off a box—I’m still working on unpacking. “I think I might need to cure this one all on my own.”

  “Well, just don’t forget to smile,” she says. “A smile can fix so much.”

  I unfold the top of the box. “I’m smiling right now. I swear.”

  “Good. And if you need anything, you know you can call me. Day or night. I don’t want you getting lonely.”

  “I’m fine. In fact, I’m getting ready to head off to my first class and I have a feeling I’m going to make some new friends there.”

  “That’s so weird because I had a dream last night that you made three new friends today. One was in English class, so keep your eyes open.”

  I shake my head as I wander back to my room to get dressed. “All right, Mom, I’ll make sure to keep a lookout.”

  “Good. Call me tonight and let me know if I was right.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And promise me you won’t go into your shell. I know you don’t mind being alone, but I don’t want you missing out on opportunities to make new friends and maybe date a little bit. You haven’t even mentioned a boy since Carter. I hope he didn’t break your heart.”

  “He didn’t break my heart,” I assure her, which is the truth. My heart has never been broken because I’ve never been in love. When it comes to dating, I’ve been a casual fling kind of guy, something I never really thought much about until Carter broke things off because he said I was too closed off. It kind of opened my eyes to how my stoicism comes off, but breaking the habit hasn’t been easy and I’m still getting my footing. But it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any or even went out with anyone that I’m starting to get a little sexually frustrated. “And I promise I won’t go into my shell or whatever it is you called it.”

  “Say it like you mean it,” she insists. “I want to hear the excitement in your voice.”

  I pull open the dresser drawer and dig through my clothes for a shirt. “Okay! I promise!” I say with forced cheer as I roll my eyes. “There. Better?”

  “Much better. I love you, sweetie.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I hang up and blow out a breath. While my mom has complete faith that her dream is going to come true, I’m skeptical she’s seen my future as she so often claims to do. Besides, I’m really nervous, which usually means I’ll come off awkward and unapproachable, the quiet, tortured artist who broods at the back of the class.

  After I get dressed in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, I slip on my black boots, grab my bag, and head out the door. The apartment I live in is a ways from the campus. I’m hoping by next semester I can find a closer place, but for now, I make do and use the five-mile walk as an excuse for exercise. On my way, I grab my camera from my bag and take snapshots of an awesome looking Victorian house and then a few streets where the blossom trees canopy over the asphalt. Back in Florida, we didn’t really have four seasons and I find it fascinating to watch the leaves falling from the trees. I walk by a few people who grab my attention, mainly because they either look intense, sad, or extremely happy, and I covertly take pictures of them as I pass. I have a thing with capturing emotion in my pictures and seek them out wherever I go.

  By the time I reach the busy campus yard, I’ve probably taken at least a hundred pictures. Looking through the lens, I zoom around the grassy area just to the side of the university’s main building, looking for the perfect shot. Angling the camera at one of the benches where two people are sitting, I pause.

  The guy and girl are huddled together, as if they’ve carved their own private world for each other. The guy says something, swinging his hands around animatedly, and the girl busts up laughing, throwing her head back. The guy smiles at this, seeming happy that he m
ade his friend laugh. He jumps to his feet, grabs her arm, and spins her around and around until she almost falls down.

  There’s such freedom in the way they talk and laugh, overwhelming happiness to the point that I actually start to feel happy just observing them. I consider going over there and introducing myself. Why the hell not? It won’t hurt anything and it’s not like I haven’t introduced myself to complete strangers before. Besides, the guy looks familiar. As they wander up the path, the guy directly faces me. I get a full view of his golden blonde hair and gorgeous brown eyes, realizing I’ve definitely seen him before. It’s the guy that was staring at me earlier this week.