Page 29 of Stroke of Fate

The moment I turn to make a beeline for the doors, something hard hits me square in the chest. I’m so focused on getting out of here that I don’t even register the sting.

“Whoa, sorry, Levi,” Sam apologizes, steadying the milk carton wobbling on his tray from the impact.

“You going somewhere?” Austin pipes up from behind him, also carrying a tray.

“I have to use the restroom.” I blurt.

It’s not the most original excuse, and it's the second time I've used it, but at least they won’t question it.

There’s a good chance they’ll see me through the window, but right now, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

“Dude, no way! We just got here. You can’t leave,” Sam complains, dropping into a chair.

“Yeah, Levi, you can’t leave.” Mack echoes. “Sit your ass back down so I can finish my story.”

“Sorry, but you gotta answer when nature calls.” I shrug like I have no choice.

And weirdly, I don’t because every fiber in my body is screaming at me to get to Bear and make it known to that asshole that he’s overstepping.

As I walk away, Mack calls after me, “Wash your hands!”

I flip him off over my shoulder, their laughter fading with each step I take toward the doors.

I knew there was something different about Bear when I saw her picture.

I tried denying it. I tried playing it off like it meant nothing. I stupidly convinced myself it was just sexual attraction.

And yes, the attraction is there, but it goes deeper than surface level.

Every interaction—the good and bad— is ingrained in my mind because it involvesher.

Seeing someone else think they can lay their claim solidifies it for me.

She’s mine.

No more holding back.

11 | BEAR

Skimming the last chapter of my assigned reading, I'm glad I chose the courtyard over the library as I originally planned. The warmth on my back feels good, and I’m soaking up every bit of the sun before the cooler weather sets in.

When a shadow falls over the textbook in my lap, I glance up to see a familiar face smiling down at me.

“Finn, hey.” I smile a little too brightly, hoping it covers some of the awkwardness I feel at seeing him.

“Hey, yourself. How have you been?”

“Pretty good, thanks. You?”

“Not too bad.” He grins and shrugs. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“Yeah, they aren’t being lenient with us just because it’s the first week back,” I say, hoping that if we stick to neutral topics, he won’t mention that I never texted him.

That hope is short-lived when the next words out of his mouth are, “So, I never got a text from you.”

I resist squirming under his gaze, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush creeping up my face. “Well, there hasn’t exactly been anything to catch up on in Professor Brinks’ class.”

“You’re right, it’s still early days.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, if you want, I can put my number in your phone, you know, in case anything comes up or you lose the paper I gave you.”

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