The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,17

I kiss her once—and what a kiss, I still can’t stop thinking about it—and now she’s gone. I fucked up.

What else is new?

Six

Ellie

I am totally in my element. Being at college, on campus, and away from the only home I’ve ever known, is downright liberating. I’ve remained in one place my entire life, and I thought I would miss it. Be homesick. I was scared at the thought of not having Ava beside me. My sidekick, my constant companion for the last four years. Gone, just like that. At first, I felt untethered. A little lost. Like a balloon let go. Adrift, climbing higher into the sky.

But it turns out…I’m okay. In fact, I’m more than okay. I’m taking a heavy class load—all general ed classes this semester and next, trying to get those out of the way. I still don’t know what I want to be. My major is undeclared, and that scared me at first too, but you know what?

I’m eighteen. How the hell am I supposed to know what I want to do for the rest of my life? Some people have it all figured out, but I am not those people. I’m not even close to those people.

I exit my Intro to Statistics class with a vague headache. While I like school and do well at it, math is not my thing. Stats is a really intimidating subject, and I’m worried I’ll bomb the class, but I don’t have a choice. I have to take it.

I’m walking with my head down, trying to shove my notebook into my backpack so I can zip it up, when I collide with someone.

And not just someone, but a male someone. I know this because he’s tall, solid as a rock, and is wearing cologne. Oh, and he speaks, and his voice is super deep.

“Sorry, you okay?”

I glance up to find an attractive guy studying me with concern. His hair is dark, as are his eyes, and he’s wearing glasses.

Oh my God, he’s cute.

“I’m fine.” I quickly zip up my backpack and hitch the strap up higher on my shoulder. “Sorry. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. It’s nice. He seems nice. He’s got this pleasant, open aura about him that I’m immediately drawn to. “Aren’t you in my statistics class?”

“The one we just came out of?” I gesture toward the open doorway, not too far from where we’re standing, and he nods. “Yes. Here’s where I confess I hate math.”

“Here’s where I confess I’m actually really good at math.” He smiles, revealing straight teeth. He’s not some gorgeous, untouchable boy like Jackson, but he’s definitely pleasant to look at. “I’m a finance major.”

“Of course you are,” I say, laughing. When he frowns, I realize I need to make myself clearer. “Trust me, that’s not a bad thing. I’m just—I was feeling really dumb while walking out of that class right now, and I’m sure you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“If you need help, I don’t mind,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Carson.”

“Ellie,” I say weakly, shaking his hand before letting it go. I didn’t feel a zip of attraction up my arm like when Jackson touches me, but I’m not discounting this guy. Not at all. “Are you a freshman too? Please tell me you just started here.”

“I just started here,” he confirms with a faint smile.

We both start walking down the hall. I don’t have class for another hour, so I’m taking my time, and so is he.

“Do you like it here so far?” I ask.

“I do. I’m not used to this hot weather, though. I grew up in Morro Bay,” he explains.

“Oh my God, I would kill to live in Morro Bay! I love the ocean,” I say a bit too enthusiastically. I tell myself to calm down. “Why didn’t you go to Cal Poly?”

“I wanted out of there,” he says, grimacing. “I’ve lived in that area my entire life. I needed a change.”

“I totally get it. I’ve lived in the same town my entire life too,” I say.

We exit the building and head toward the quad. He doesn’t leave my side, and we keep talking about Fresno State. Our classes. Turns out we’re in the same sociology class too, though we didn’t see each other. Not surprising, considering how big the classroom is.

“Do you have class right now?” I ask him.

“Oh shit.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time before lifting his head to look at