Raegan

Heartache hit me like an ocean wave. It built for some time, rolling through me, collecting all it could with its force, and then it beat me like a wave crashing on the shoreline. All at once. Consuming and overwhelming.

I cried for days as my chest heaved and nose ran. I was a mess.

Arya took care of me, bringing me clean tissues and sappy movies. It’s the only way to let it out. Force it by watching every romance movie you can, and then it’s over. You can move on and not think twice about it—about him.

That’s what I convince myself will happen. It’s hard to erase every memory, all traces of someone. It’s almost impossible. Because, regardless of how hard you try, memories seep through your mind, reminding you of the person you once loved.

But, in those moments of crying and watching movies that had me balling every five minutes, I wished I had one thing more than all the candy in the world. A tiny fur ball who likes to curl up in my lap, making me smile more than Travis ever did. I’m an idiot for leaving her behind, but I shove it away, knowing I’ll get her back, no matter what.

I shove the covers off me and leave the comfort of Arya’s bed as leftover snotty tissues fall to the floor. I stumble over to her closet, rummaging through her clothes. She won’t mind if I borrow something, seeing as I left everything at the place I used to call home.

I find a pair of yoga pants and throw them on along with a loose-fitted T-shirt. I yank Travis’s old sweatshirt, which I found in my car two days ago, over my head. I’m fucking wearing his clothes, still hanging on to a sliver of him.

I’m an idiot.

I went for a run yesterday, hoping it would help clear my head. It didn’t. All it did was make me miss Travis. There wasn’t a chance for me to forget him, seeing as how I was wearing his sweatshirt.

At the memory of running in it, I sniff the sweatshirt, inhaling a lungful of air. Instead of an unappealing stench, the scent of cigars and leather invades my nose.

Travis frequently hid away in his office, smoking cigars in his oversize leather chair, clicking away at his computer. Sometimes, I’d watch from afar as he worked, his facial features relaxed. When he’d come to bed, I’d revel in the smell until I started resenting the time he spent locked away.

I blow out a breath, my shoulders sagging before I straighten my stance, not wanting the memory of Travis to ruin my day.

I follow my nose to the kitchen, the scent of grease making my stomach rumble.

Arya is a mind-blowing cook. The girl could quit her job at the campus bookstore and have her own restaurant if she wanted or at least cook meals for the college kids roaming around campus. Why she doesn’t become a chef, I have no idea. Instead, she’s an accounting major, learning the magic of managing finances.

“That smells heavenly.” I lean against the kitchen island, waiting impatiently to feed my stomach.

“Why, thank you.” She faces me, pausing as she gawks at my chest.

I glance down, thinking a spider has taken up residence on my sweatshirt, but I don’t see anything out of place.

“Why are you wearing that?” she questions, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor.

“I, uh…” I stutter, not having an explanation for her.

She sighs, shaking her head. “You’re going to have to let go, Raegan.”

“I know.” And I will…soon.

She turns back to the stove, flipping two perfectly golden pancakes on the griddle in front of her. Talk about mouthwatering. Although I haven’t eaten in two days, so I could eat tofu and love every bite of it.

I grab plates and silverware, setting them on her sleek, modern table, shivering as the cold metal of the tabletop connects with the back of my hand.

Grabbing a mug off the drying rack, I pour myself a cup of hot coffee, enjoying the steam wafting in my face. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

I feel like a nuisance, invading her space, but Arya would never tell me if I was being a burden.

She waves me off with the spatula in her hand before flipping another pancake. “Please. Mi casa es su casa. You know that.”

Arya’s parents bought her this house because it was close to campus. Her parents have money, but she isn’t a rich, spoiled brat. She’s far from it. The only way she would accept the house from them was if they let her pay back every cent because she didn’t want to freeload off them, but of course, they said no. There was no way their only child was going to pay them back for something that was for their peace of mind. So, instead, she pays all the utilities because they wouldn’t hear of anything more.

“Still, I’ll look for a new place as soon as I can.” How I’m going to afford it is a whole other question since I’m a senior in college, and I don’t have much in the way of money. I hold a part-time job as a waitress at a nice restaurant, but working part-time doesn’t pay for much.

The only reason Travis and I could move into our house was because he paid over fifty percent of the bills. Contrary to what Arya thinks, I wasn’t only with him because he was taking care of me. I loved him. I loved him as much as I could and the best way I knew how.

Unfortunately, two people aren’t always meant to be together. You can try to make a relationship flourish before it burns out, but at the end of the day, if both people aren’t all in, it doesn’t work.

Arya places three pancakes on each plate before we sit down at the table. “Raegan, you know I love you, but how are you going to afford anything?”

“I’ll figure it out.” I shovel a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. Oh my God, so good! “I can stay on campus,” I say around my mouthful of food.

She ties her long brown hair on top of her head, leaving it in a tangled mess. “You do realize, it’s the middle of September, right? We’re almost two months into school. There aren’t going to be any dorms available.”

Shit.

She has a point. The last chance to apply for a dorm was the day before classes started. I could move back home, but then I’d have to drive an hour to class three days a week. I grimace, not wanting to have to spend that much time in my car.

“I have the perfect solution.” She points her fork at me, and a glop of syrup falls on the table. “Stay here. You already have your own key.”

I swipe the syrup off the table with my index finger and lick the sugary goodness off. “I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Trust me, you won’t. This place is way too big for me. You’d have your own bedroom and bathroom. Oh, and a closet to die for.” She leans closer to me and whispers, “The closet has a window.”

I stare at my plate—not because it’s a bad idea, but because I could never stay somewhere this nice. “I can’t afford to live here.”

“Oh, please. You know my parents won’t let me pay them. My expenses amount to a measly four hundred dollars a month. We can split it. I know you can swing that.”

She’s right; I can. I won’t have much leftover, but I honestly don’t need a whole lot. I can curl up on the couch, watching Netflix every day, and be as content as ever.

“Okay, but I’m going to do all the cleaning and laundry,” I counter because I feel like I need to do something in return.

“I don’t think so. How ’bout you let me borrow your car whenever I want?” She leans back in her chair and rubs her full stomach, surely feeling as bloated as I do from eating all those pancakes.

“Deal.” I stick out my hand, and she shakes it with a smile. “I hate to eat and run, but I have to get to class.” I push away from the table and stand from the chair.

I skipped the last two days of classes, so I figure I need to show my face and get all the work I missed. That way, I can spend my whole weekend buried in homework. Yay…not.

“Already leaving me with all the chores,” she jokes, collecting our plates.

I walk toward the living room with a grin as I say, “Next time, promise.” I grab my backpack from next to the couch and head out the door to make the trek to school. I was thankful when I saw it sitting in my backseat, knowing I would get to avoid Travis a little while longer.

Arya lives five minutes from school, which is why she doesn’t have a car. Well, that, and she refused to accept the car her parents had bought her when she graduated high school. She’s an odd bird.

I make the short trip down the campus sidewalk and enjoy the cool air that whips in my face. It smells like fall—cold, smoke, and a tinge of sour apple.

I love this time of year. The weather. The leaves. The pumpkins. Fall brings a whole new feel to the world, or maybe that’s just my perception. Everything has a fresh start—the trees, grass. Some people would say fall is when everything dies, but I like to think that the world is giving nature the chance to start over, leaving the baggage behind.

When I was deciding on what college to attend, I knew I wanted to be someplace where the weather wouldn’t kill me on a daily basis, but I also wanted to be close to my parents. I wanted to be able to see them whenever I needed them. I have a close relationship with both of my parents, and I can’t imagine being hundreds of miles away from them.

I eventually decided on the University of South Carolina. Close to home, spectacular weather, Arya, and Travis. I knew it was the perfect place for me the second I read my acceptance letter.

As a cool breeze gusts by me, I snuggle further into my sweatshirt. Travis’s sweatshirt. The lingering smell of him overpowers my senses, and all our memories together assault me. The way I let him treat me for so long, how we grew so far apart that I didn’t recognize him anymore, and the images of him screwing Blondie in our bedroom.

Tears sting my eyes. I blink several times, pushing them away.

Travis and I met at a college football game when he was a sophomore in college, and I was a senior in high school. Arya and I were visiting the University of South Carolina as a prospective college, and my parents bought us tickets for a game while we were visiting campus.

Travis happened to be sitting in the row in front of us, and when his green eyes locked on mine and he smiled, I was a goner.

His smooth voice caused butterflies in my stomach when he asked me on my first date. He was kind and genuine back then, but it all changed when he graduated college two years ago.

He got a job straight out of college, and I forgave him for spending so much time away from me, knowing he needed to build relationships at work and show his devotion to his job.

After he had been working at the same business for a year, he told me he wanted to take care of me, to be a provider. I should have known he only wanted someone to do all the dirty work he hated doing because that was exactly what our relationship turned into.

I spent most of my time at school or cleaning up after him. My parents hated the way I was living, giving up my early twenties to play house with a guy who didn’t appreciate a single thing about me.

I see it now. Four years too late.

I make it to my English class, the first of three lectures for the day and attempt to pay attention. The professor drones on and on about some book we were supposed to read, and I find it hard to pay attention since I have no idea what he’s talking about. I guess I’ll add reading to my to-do list for the weekend.

“Ms. Winters?”

My eyes shoot to the front of the class, staring at Professor Crane.

“Ms. Winters, would you like to comment on what Mr. Andrews said?”

“Um…” I don’t know what the hell the guy said, nor do I know what we are talking about. “No.”

“You don’t have an opinion?” he questions, regarding me with knowing eyes. “How about you pay attention since you missed two classes in a row?”

He raises an eyebrow, and I sink down into my chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

I pay full attention the rest of the class, and that’s why I groan along with everyone else when the professor changes the requirements of our project.

“On this list, you will find the name of your partner for the rest of the semester.” He paces down each row of desks and hands a sheet of paper to the person on the end. “Together, you will have one grade for this whole class. In other words, your grade depends on your partner.”

Are you kidding me? Why is he doing this?

I’m a senior. I can’t afford to get stuck with an underclassman who couldn’t care less about their grade because they’re too busy getting wasted every weekend.

I hate group projects. It seems the only people who actually like them are the ones who coast through without doing any of the work.

“However, all tests and quizzes will be graded on an individual basis. They will only account for fifteen percent of your grade.”

Why did he wait until we were almost two months into the semester to tell us this?

“If I were you, I would meet up with your partner as soon as possible because the project I assigned you six weeks ago is now tied to them. You must combine both of your projects to form one cohesive paper.”

This just keeps getting worse.

“I’ll see you next week.” He grabs his briefcase and slips out the door as moans and complaints echo through the room.

The person next to me hands me the dreaded piece of paper that holds my fate for the remainder of the class.

Jax Andrews. Who is that?

I look around the room, seeing most everyone paired off with someone as they frantically discuss their projects.

All but one.

The one sitting in the back of the class, twirling a pen through his fingers. He casually lounges at his desk, not seeming to care about our professor changing the requirements of our project so late in the game.

Damn it.

I slide out of my chair, gathering my belongings with an armful of makeup work. I trudge to the back of the room, my steps heavier, the closer I move toward him.

He smiles at a girl across the room, winking as she flicks her hair over her shoulder. She might as well have ‘easy’ stamped on her forehead with the short skirt and crop top she’s wearing that leave little to the imagination.

I feel like I just got stuck with someone who isn’t going to lift a finger for our project. I think he’s more interested in the grade the girl across the room will give him than the one he’ll earn in this class.

I stand before him, waiting for him to acknowledge me. Of course, he doesn’t.

“Are you Jax?” I ask, shooting him a death glare for ignoring me when I’m obviously standing right in front of him.

He slants his gray eyes over to me, appraising me from head to toe before giving me his full attention.

His gray eyes mesmerize me as I study them, noticing the slight blue that radiates from his pupils. They captivate me the same way the night stars do, flickering and unknown. The stars are something to be discovered and make me curious as to what secrets they hide. His gray eyes do the same thing because I can see, behind his cocky smile, his eyes are heavy, hiding a burden, not meant for anyone to notice.

I yank myself out of the trance he put me under, taking in the rest of him. His dark brown hair is short but long enough for him to tug when he runs his hand over the top of his head. His khaki shorts reveal toned calves, ones that I wouldn’t mind staring at all damn day.

He’s hot, and he knows it. He knows every girl he comes across will be putty in his hands—every girl, except for me. I find him more than attractive, but that stupid-ass smirk on his face makes me hate him because it reminds me way too much of Travis.

“Yeah.”

That’s it. One word.

Was he not listening in class?

“I’m your partner,” I explain, adjusting the papers in my arms.

He looks me up and down again, as if he’s assessing if I’m good enough to be in his presence.

“The one who wasn’t paying attention?”

He twirls that damn pen in his hand, and all I want to do is snatch it away from him and throw it across the room.

“Yes,” I say with a bite.

“What’s your name?” Placing the pen on his desk, he leans forward, his weight on his forearms.

“Didn’t you see my name on the list Professor Crane handed out?”

“Nope.”

I’m going to have to carry his ass through this class. Great, twice the work.

And this beautiful, cocky guy will skate by because I need to graduate this year. I need to accomplish the one goal I’ve had since I was in middle school.

It might seem odd to make graduating college the most important thing to me, but neither of my parents ever went to college. They never pressured me to further my education, but it’s something that I’ve always wanted—to make something of myself.

“Raegan Winters.” I scowl. “How did you know I was the one who wasn’t paying attention if you didn’t know my name?”

“Just a hunch.” He shrugs his shoulders as he rises from his chair and grabs his pen. He saunters away from me, leaving the paper Professor Crane passed out on his desk.

All he brought to class was a pen? What good is a pen if he doesn’t have paper?

I follow behind him like a lost puppy because I have no idea what else to do, but I at least need his number.

Before he steps out the door of the classroom, he whips around, and I nearly bump into him.

“Why are you following me?”

I blink up at him. “Our project.” Does he have short-term memory loss?

“I work solo.” He smirks “I’ll see you later.”

“What?”

“I’ll see you when I see you. Do you not understand what good-bye means?” he questions, eyeing me like I’m from another planet.

“Yes, I know what it means, but we have a project. We need to figure out what we’re doing.” I yank my cell phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and unlock the screen. “Give me your number.”

“Whoa.” He takes a step back from me, as if I’m trying to attack him. “First off, we’re not doing a project together. Second, I’m not in the habit of giving women a way to contact me.”

He swivels around, attempting to move away from me, but I snatch the back of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He turns his head and glares at me.

“I wouldn’t even be talking to you if it wasn’t for this stupid project our professor is forcing on us.”

He flips around when he hears the determination in my voice—or is that bitchiness? Either way, I don’t care.

“I want your number, so we can discuss our project, not so I can get off.”

I have the attention of every person left in the classroom. My face heats, my cheeks burning.

He smirks at me, showing off his perfect white teeth. “All in due time.” He slips away, leaving me in the doorway, baffled and speechless.

I pull myself together and rush out into the hallway to smack some sense into him, but he’s gone, vanished into a sea of people walking the halls.

Fantastic.