Page 6 of Breakaway Goal

“Well,” Rhys says, “I’ve got dish soap to buy. I’ll leave you girls to, uh …” he gestures at the extensive condom display, “whatever fun you were getting up to.”

With another wink, he turns around and saunters away. The white t-shirt he’s wearing is so thin, and his surging back muscles stretch it so tight, that I can see the dark contours of the tattoos covering him underneath.

“Snug-fit, why not?” Jasmine says, dropping the pack into the shopping basket at my feet. “Let’s also grab a regular pack, just in case we’re lucky enough to snag some guys with normal-sized dicks.”

I huff a laugh. “It’s a tall task, but I’m sure you’re up to it.”

“We’reup to it,” she answers, nudging me playfully in the ribs after she picks up the basket. “This is your semester. I can feel it.”

I bounce my eyebrows skeptically but keep my doubts to myself as we walk to the self-checkouts.

We’re both carrying loaded-up paper bags as we step out of the pharmacy and onto the main street of Cedar Shade, the charming and gorgeous small Vermont town that’s home to Brumehill College.

“So,” Jasmine begins, “how embarrassing was it to be caught in the condom aisle by the guy you had a crush on in middle school?”

Jasmine and I met in elementary school, but she and her family moved to a different state when we were in seventh grade. Despite the distance, we kept in touch, talking on the phone every day and visiting each other whenever we possibly could. She spent her freshman year at a college close to her current home, but this year transferred to Brumehill.

Now, for the first time in seven years, we’re living in the same town—and for the first time ever, we’re roommates, just like we dreamed about ever since we were kids.

When Jasmine and I still went to the same school in sixth grade, it was clear to her that I was utterly smitten by Rhys, my brother Lane’s best friend, who was two years ahead of us in eighth grade. But when she moved away, as the years went on, she just assumed the middle school crush fizzled out.

What she doesn’t know, the one secret that I’ve kept from my best friend, is that it was a lot more than a crush—and it never ended.

“I think I’ll live,” I answer sardonically.

Guilt lightly pinches at the nape of my neck as I think about how Jasmine doesn’t keep anything from me, while I’m holding back the fact that I’m absolutely head over heels for Rhys Callahan. So head over heels that it literally hurts sometimes.

Hurts, because no matter how I feel about him, he’s a college sports idol and I’m just his best friend’s dorky younger sister. We might be friends, but there’s no way he’d ever think of me as anything more than that.

Which is fine …

I pull myself out of that train of thought. Instead, I drink in the atmosphere around town as we walk to our dorm.

Excitement is buzzing in the air. It’s the Sunday of move-in week, before classes start this Tuesday. The streets are mobbed with students, whether freshmen excited to get acquainted with the town or upperclassmen revisiting their favorite local spots after summer break.

The side streets crammed with quaint, lovely rowhomes are full of juniors and seniors moving into their off-campus houses or apartments, while campus is crawling with freshmen and sophomores settling into their new dorms.

There are tearful hugs from parents leaving their sons and daughters for the first time, groups of students living on the same dorm floor fast becoming friends as they explore the campus and town, tables set up all around campus by student organizations trying to recruit new members, and more than a couple haggard faces that are clearly feeling the after-effects of the dozens of parties that raged last night.

The atmosphere is infectious. A thrill glows in my chest as I think about the semester ahead of us.

Finally living with my best friend isn’t the only thing that has me brimming with anticipation. After a miserable freshman year studying something I had no interest in, I’ve finally switched to an Art major.

Art has always been my greatest love, whether it’s creating it, reading about its history, or appreciating it in museums and galleries.

This semester, I have a full schedule of art classes, and I’m so excited for every one of them. I’ve always liked school, and I’ve always been good at it, but I’ve never been downright giddy to start a school year like I am now.

When Jasmine and I arrive at our dorm building, located just aside from the center of campus, we stop to admire it. It’s a gorgeous piece of architecture, built in the late nineteenth century. Its bright red brick façade, striking design, and the skillful ornamentation that adorns it make it one of the most recognizable landmarks on campus.

It’s by far the most coveted building to live in. Whether you stay here or one of the newer dorm buildings—which are nice enough but nowhere near as jaw-dropping—is all down to the luck of the draw. Somehow, Jasmine and I won the lottery.

I drop my eyes from gazing up at the building when the front door opens, and out walks one of the girls who lives on the same floor as me and Jasmine.

She also happens to be one of the girls who was sneering at us from across the kitchen island at Rhys and Lane’s house party last night—and one of the girls whose faces turned green with envy when Rhys sauntered over and wrapped his arm around me.

Her eyes flare with recognition as she steps out of the door. When she passes me, she beams a glare that could wilt flowers or turn milk sour.

Meanwhile, my stomach twists at the memory of Rhys’s heavy, jagged arm draped over me last night.

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