Page 3 of Ruin Me
Jess snickers. “I fucking love that. Your mum sounds epic.”
Beaming with pride, I nod. “She kinda is.”
“You didn’t go here before, did you?”
“No, I was at Westfield.”
She scrunches up her nose, clearly never having heard of it. Not that I’m surprised.
“About a hundred miles north of here.”
“Ah, okay,” she says knowingly, nodding her head. “Sorry, I’m a local.”
Also, not surprising. She screams old money, stately home, second country house, and pony-riding privilege. Not that I’m bitter or judging her. She is a gem, friendly and including me.
“Don’t let this place intimidate you.” She gathers her stuff, too, and I notice others joining in our little circle. “Not that I mean that in a mean way. But there are people here who are… less than pleasant when it comes to outsiders.”
“Every place has its shadows,” I say with a shrug, thinking about the guys from last night. “Just different alleyways to navigate.” My reply earns a few thoughtful nods. They have no idea how true that is.
“Let’s grab coffee sometime,” Jess suggests.
“Sure,” I agree with a nod. “Sounds fun.”
We exchange numbers, tapping into each other’s phones, and I make a mental note of the names and faces around me, as she quickly shoots out introductions. Allies or obstacles, time will tell. But every piece of information is currency, and I plan to be rich—in knowledge, in connections, in whatever this place has to offer. Something tells me Jess is going to be a good woman to have around.
“See you around, Vogue,” Jess calls as we part ways.
“See you,” I echo, slipping my phone back into my bag.
Connections were made, and the professor wasimpressed. I hope it’s an excellent start to the day. One class down, countless more to go, but I’ll be ready, studying until the words blur together, fighting for every inch of this new world I’m claiming.
I slip out of the lecture hall, my stomach reminding me it’s time for the breakfast I skipped earlier because of nerves. The campus buzzes with energy, everyone eager to carve out their place here. I’m no different. I weave through the crowd, searching for a slice of solitude.
There is a bench tucked away under the shade of an old oak, like it’s been waiting just for me. I settle in, unpacking my lunch I made up yesterday. I can’t afford the on-campus café, but this is just fine with me. As I take a bite, I let myself soak in the quiet, just for a moment.
Eating alone gives me time to think. Mum would be proud to see me here munching on a packed lunch instead of blowing cash on overpriced campus food. It’s because of her that I’m sitting here at all. Her sacrifices made this possible. Pride swells in my chest, mixed with fierce gratitude that stings my eyes. Blinking back the threat of tears, I focus on chewing.
With my early lunch done, I’m up again, ready to stalk the grounds like I belong here—which I do, even if I need to remind myself of that fact every so often.
I shuffle through the crowd of students spilling into the hallways and keep my head down, navigating the sea of bodies to find my next lecture. I try to do it without looking at the campus mapAdmissions sent me with my timetables and other paperwork when I was accepted.
I weave through groups of students, catching snippets of conversation about parties and who hooked up with whom. The drama doesn’t interest me; I’m here to learn.
Glancing up from the sea of bodies, my gaze latches onto something—or rather someone—unexpectedly interesting. There’s a guy shrouded in mystery; he’s talking to one of the faculty members in a hushed voice, his expression unreadable but intense. The professor is nodding along, slipping something small into his pocket like it’s nothing, but I can tell it’s definitely something.
The student turns his head, and I see it’s one of those guys from last night—the one who was holding Jones so Quentin could hit him.
I gulp as his eyes skate over me, lingering for a bit too long, and I make a show of looking casually away as if he doesn’t interest me.
But my curiosity is pinging again and by their own force, my eyes shoot back to him, but there is just an empty space where he was standing.
“Whoareyou people?” I murmur before someone bumps into me from behind as he talks away on his phone, and I move forward again, ever swimming upstream, mysterious boys forgotten.
3
VOGUE
Finishingmy second lecture at Crestmont, I cross the campus, and the buzz of students is like static in the air. Books clutched to my chest, I weave through the crowd. That’s when I spot them—the guys from last night loitering around an old part of the building that appears to be under construction.
