Behind the wheel of my truck, I drive around in search of the dorm listed on the forms. Islebrook sounds like the name of a university in its own right, not a dorm, but I guess everything around here has to sound fancy. More than likely it’s named after a donor, one of the rich stuffy families that no doubt have a long-standing legacy here.
Pulling up to the building I park, killing the engine. The exhaust pops and a few students turn, glaring at my clunker. My cheeks flare, because none of the other vehicles are nearly as old as mine. They shake their heads and keep walking.
Adjusting my glasses, I get out, pulling my duffle from the bed.
Everything I own, everything I am, fits into this one small bag. I don’t know whether to pat myself on my back for that fact or feel sad that I could never collect anything personal that would be worth keeping.
With one last look at the slip of paper in my hand, I make my way into the building and up to the third floor suite I’ll be sharing with two other female students.
It would’ve been nice to have my own room, I’m a loner, but maybe the forced socialization will be good for me.
Using the card the sweet office lady gave me, I let myself into the room.
My mouth parts with pleasant surprise. The common area is fairly spacious with room for a couch, chair, TV, bookcase, and even a kitchenette. Across from the living area is the open bathroom door and the three bedrooms branching off. Only one door is left open so I head to that one, placing my bag down on the mattress.
There are no sheets or comforter, not even a pillow to speak of. I should’ve assumed, but in my haste to leave my mother’s trailer behind I hadn’t bothered to bring those with me.
I blow out a breath, knowing I’m going to have to make a trip to Walmart before bedtime tonight. At least it’s not quite noon yet, so I have time.
The murmur of voices carries from the room directly beside mine. I assume my roommates are getting to know each other, or maybe the already do and I’m the odd one out.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I rub my hands on my ripped jean shorts and decide to introduce myself instead of hiding in my room.
Knocking on the closed door, I wait for it to open, revealing a gorgeous Asian girl with the most flawless skin I’ve ever seen. She smiles upon seeing me.
“You must be our other roomie. I’m Li.”
“Hi.” I wave awkwardly. “I’m Aurora.”
“That’s a cool name.”
“Thanks, you can call me Rory. Most people do.” I learned at a young age Aurora was a mouthful for most people, besides I felt the nickname suited my personality better than the flowery princess name.
She opens the door wider, revealing the room to be in a state of disaster as things sit in piles waiting to be put away, but already I can see the personal touches, photo frames, stacks of books, and hints of pink from the bedspread to the twinkle lights already hanging above the bed.
Stepping aside, she nods at the other girl in the room. “This is Kenna.”
I smile at the pretty girl with light brown hair and freckles galore.
“Do you guys know each other?” I ask.
Li shakes her head. “Nope, we just met. We’re all newbies.”
Relief floods me at not being the odd one out.
“This is my room,” Li continues, “Kenna’s is across the way and I assume you found yours.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you guys.”
Kenna smiles at me. “You don’t look like you get out a lot.”
Her question takes me off guard. I look down at my loose crop top, high-waisted shorts, and secondhand off-brand sneakers. “Uh…”
“Not your clothes. It’s your face.” She swirls one of her hands at her own face. “You have this fresh look about you. Don’t worry I’ll fix that.”
I blink at my new roomie. “W-What do you mean?” I lean against the doorway, suddenly wary.
“Nothing bad, but let’s go out tonight. I heard there’s a bar close to campus that serves minors. You in?” She directs her gaze first to Li then me. Her green eyes twinkle with excitement.
“I need to get out, so I’m game.” Li gives a dainty shrug.
I nibble my lip, hesitating. I didn’t have time for partying before. When I wasn’t at school I was studying and when I wasn’t studying I was working.
What the hell are you waiting for? This is why you wanted to move far away from Mom—education and an actual social life.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sweet,” Kenna grins, “do you have anything to wear?”
I think of the bare necessities I packed and shake my head. “I need to run to Walmart and get a few things.” More than a few actually.
She wrinkles her nose. “Um … no. You can borrow something from me.”
“Oh, um okay. I still need to go out for a bit, but I’ll be back later. You guys need anything?”
They both shake their heads, a sweater needing to be hung dangling loosely from Li’s fingertips, and I let out a breath.
“See you later, Rory,” Kenna calls as I head back into my room.
Swiping up my phone, wallet, and keys I wave at the girls as I head out.
I can do this, I tell myself. I can be a normal college student. I can make friends. Go out. Live my life. I’m not trapped anymore.
Then why do I feel like a bird with an open cage who’s forgotten how to fly?
Chapter Two
Mascen
Pulling my Land Rover into the garage of my townhouse, I put it in park and find myself sitting there. Despite spending the last few hours on the practice field by myself, working on my pitch, I don’t feel any better. My body is drenched in sweat and I need to head inside and shower, but can’t seem to make myself move.
It doesn’t help I nearly ran over some chick crossing the street on campus as I was leaving. I was in a pissy mood, still am, and wasn’t paying enough attention. I could’ve hit her, which is scary as fuck, but then me being me I honked at her like it was her fault. I can be a real fucking prick. I don’t even mean to … most of the time. There are other times where I get enjoyment out of it. I don’t know what that says about me, but it’s true.
Being an asshole comes in handy at times, though, especially when you don’t want people to get too close. And growing up in a famous family I’m sick and fucking tired of people always in my business. That shit gets old fast. I’m only twenty and I’m jaded by the whole thing. Just because my dad plays drums in one of the most loved bands doesn’t mean I want my whole life to be front-page news. But magazines don’t care about that shit, they just want a story, and their latest is what sent me to the field. It was some bullshit with a picture of me at a dive bar. The headline?
Underage Mascen Wade spotted at a bar with beer in hand. Is he following in the footsteps of his former alcoholic uncle?
My uncle Mathias, my dad’s twin brother and lead singer of their band, wasn’t an alcoholic as far as I ever knew. I’m sure from time to time he’s drank too much, who hasn’t, but the media always liked to make things seem so much worse than they were. Besides, who hasn’t had a drink before they’re twenty-one?
Still, it pisses me off that people care enough to buy this shit. If they didn’t consume it then news outlets wouldn’t bother printing it.