Chapter 6

14 YEARS EARLIER

 

I have just driven two-hundred miles to get to college, and now here I am, stopped five feet from the entrance to my new dorm, unable to go any further.

All around me, I see parents helping their children unpack their cars and carry their belongings to their new dorm rooms. They all seem so happy, so excited. I hear peals of laughter in the distance.

And then there’s me. All alone. Surrounded by heavy boxes.

As I predicted, Mom got sick as soon as she started chemo. So sick that she couldn’t keep down the Zofran tablets and they admitted her to the hospital for fluids last night. I went to the hospital to see her, pushing away the dizzy feeling I get anytime I enter any medical facility. I tried to focus on my mother’s face, not on the IV line and not on the chemo port on her chest.

I begged her to let me stay. She told me she was just dehydrated—there was no reason to put my life on hold. She reminded me I needed to leave now to get to college before registration started.

The compromise was that Dad would stay with her. Mom wasn’t happy about it, but neither of us could imagine him leaving her to skip off to college with me. I assured them both that I could handle moving by myself. Dad loaded my boxes into the trunk and back seat of my car, and I assured him I’d just get everything into the elevator once I got to the dorm.

But now that I’m here, there’s a problem: My new dorm does not have an elevator.

I checked. I circled, I asked around, and ultimately concluded that this five-story dorm has only stairs. Which means I will need to carry each and every one of my many, many boxes up to my room on the fourth floor. Despite the fact that I could barely lift some of them out of my car. It never even occurred to me such a thing could happen.

It’s so depressing that I want to sit on the pavement and cry.

But instead, I buck up and grab one of the boxes out of the trunk. It’s not one of the heaviest boxes, but not one of the tiny ones either. It’s a medium-sized box. I figure if I get some of the medium-sized boxes upstairs, I’ll build my muscles up to bring the big ones up. And after I’m done with that, the smaller ones will seem like a piece of cake.

Unfortunately, the medium-sized box is still very, very big. So big that when I’ve got it in my arms, I’m having a hard time seeing over it. I start up the steps to the front entrance, but forget exactly how many steps there are and it’s too hard to see what’s ahead of me. I swear, if I go sprawling with this box, I will definitely start crying.

“One more stair,” a male voice says from behind me.

I obligingly lift my legs up the next step.

“Okay, now go straight,” the voice instructs me.

I have no choice but to listen, since I can’t see a thing. I walk straight ahead, but slowly, so I don’t crash.

“Now go left,” he says. I go left. A pause. “No, your other left.”

Jesus. I can’t believe I have like ten more boxes after this.

“Listen, just give me that,” the voice says.

I don’t know who has been talking to me. At this point, I don’t care if it’s a burglar, because anyone who wants this stupid box can have it. I gratefully hand over my gigantic medium-sized box, and look up to thank the student (or burglar?) who took it from me. And…

Oh, he’s very nice-looking.

He’s about half a foot taller than me, which would put him at around six feet. He’s wearing a worn T-shirt and baggy blue jeans, but I can see the muscles bulging in his arms as he holds my box. He’s got shaggy blond hair and blue eyes that crinkle when he squints at me in the sunlight. At that moment, I fall just the tiniest bit in love with him.

Well, maybe not in love. In lust is more like it.

“Thanks,” I manage.

The boy raises his eyebrows at me. “You’re a freshman, huh?”

I nod. He’s too hot. It’s made me into a mute.

“All alone?”

I nod again.

“All right,” he says. “Let’s do this then.”

I grab a duffel bag from my car so I don’t feel like a helpless little girl who needs a big strong guy to help her lift stuff, even if that appears to be the situation. Also, I hold doors for him. I’m good at that part.

It takes him five trips with me helping. Five times up the stairs to the fourth floor, carrying the heaviest of my boxes while I follow behind with something embarrassingly light. He barely grunts when he lifts the box with my computer in it. He dumps the last of my boxes on the floor of my new dorm room, a light sheen of sweat dotting his handsome features. His shirt is sticking to his body, which, sadly, makes him all the more attractive. Unfortunately, I’m just as sweaty as he is and I’ve even got pit stains, which isn’t making me more attractive.

“Thank you so much,” I say to him, having rediscovered my voice. “I really, really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He grins crookedly. Oh my God, he’s good-looking. It’s almost criminal how cute he is when he smiles like that. “I’m Noah, by the way. I live right down the hall in one of the sophomore rooms.”

“Oh,” I say.

His smile widens. “In normal society, this is when you usually tell me your name.”

My cheeks grow warm. “I’m Bailey.”

Noah nods, smiling politely. It’s obvious he did this because he’s a nice guy who felt like he needed to help a poor freshman in distress. He didn’t do it because he’s wildly attracted to me or anything like that.

“You okay now?” he asks me. “Anything else you need?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s fine. Thanks.”

“In that case,” he says with a wink, “I’ll see you around, Miss Bailey.”

I can’t help but think of how my parents met. My father helped my mother carry her heavy box up to her room, just like Noah has done for me, except times ten. And he lives right down the hall, just like my father lived down the hall from my mother.

Except instead of inviting me to coffee like my father did with my mother, Noah walks away.