M A D I E

September fourteenth.

Two

Everything feels a little dimmer at college.

You think it's okay.

But you're not really sure.

—

My 3.9 high school GPA teased me. My ridiculously high SAT and ACT scores mocked me. The status I had as a high achieving student—completely gone.

Chemistry was out to get me. Actually, college in general was out to get me. Not understanding a single word that came out of a professor's mustache-covered mouth seemed like the norm.

After one week at Oakland State, it was obvious that I would fail. I'd have to move back to South Lake Tahoe and live with my parents forever. And in some ways, it didn't sound so bad. But I knew they wouldn't be happy; good ole Rick and Patricia had high hopes for me. High hopes that involved not failing out my freshman year of college.

That was why I'd ended up at the tutoring center on campus, finishing up my session with a spunky senior tutor, Beth. My current state of being was somewhere between wallowing and despairing at all the things I had to memorize before the first Chem quiz next week.

The center was pretty dead. Empty tables with uncomfortable but chic chairs filled the space. There was a lab on the far end, and some kind of office tucked in the back. Beth told me that most people didn't start showing up for help until midterms, when they were already on the verge of flunking all their classes.

Thinking about that gave me a mini panic attack.

Anxiety. I've always thought I had anxiety, but my parents just tell me I'm overdramatic. Same thing they told my doctor.

Maybe I didn't want to move back in with them.

Hearing a door swing open, I glanced up from my Chem notes to see a guy walk in—a guy with messy brown hair and a sharp jawline.

"Bren!"

His name flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

He looked around, clearly surprised that there was even anyone in here. But then he saw me and smiled, calling over the empty tables. "Hey, Madie."

He remembered my name. That's nice that he remembered my name.

After taking one step in my direction, Bren hesitated. It was like his feet had moved without his permission, and the poor guy was annoyed that his legs had betrayed him like that. I understood; it was kind of like my mouth and the things I couldn't keep in. A moment later, his brain and limbs came to an agreement, and he made his way toward me.

"What's up?" His voice was a little breathless as he came and leaned on the table I was working at. After running a hand through his mop of wavy hair, he glanced up at me.

I'd never seen someone whose eyes matched their hair so perfectly. It was like that unattainable shade of caramel that every girl wanted. Well, maybe that was just me. And goddamn, I wanted his eyelashes.

I was staring. Shit, I was staring.

"Not much," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Just trying not to fail chemistry after only one week."

He chuckled, flashing a reassuring smile.

"What about you?" I asked.

Bren's grin faltered a little, his eyes shifting.

"Oh, come on," I said. "I literally got two problems correct on my first assignment. Two problems. Whatever reason you're here can't be worse than that."

He sighed, giving in. "I have a meeting with the coordinator in disability services."

Bren didn't say anything else for a long moment, and I got stuck trying to figure out what else to say.

"I have a learning disability," he added eventually. "It's just in math, but I have a statistics class this term." A humorless laugh slipped through his lips. "So I'm probably not the right person to help you with your chemistry, unfortunately."

I smiled and shook my head, trying to clear it. "Well, that's what they have tutors for, right?"

Bren frowned, rolling his eyes a bit. "I don't really want to do all this," he said. "But my mom is making me check in with some lady named..." He looked down at the paper in his hands. "Carla White."

His eyes meandered the room briefly before he pointed to the back office. I puffed out my cheeks in an overdramatic exhale, staring down at my notes and beginning to pack them up. "I have to do all this, I think."

Peering back up, I smiled again. He just looked like he needed an extra smile. It seemed to work. His face brightened—like a little bit of the sun had found him for the first time that day.

Sometimes it just helped to know that other people went through similar crap that you did.

"Are you heading back to the dorms after this?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

"I could wait so we can walk back together?" I offered.

"Sure, I shouldn't be too long."

"I'm just going to grab a cup of coffee," I said. There was a little cafe around the corner, and I desperately needed some caffeine. Unlocking my phone, I tossed it to him and said, "Put your number in, and I'll shoot you a text with mine so you can let me know when you're done."

He fumbled with the phone for a second before giving it back to me. Checking it, I read what he wrote. "Bren Hadaway. That's a—"

I looked back up to see Bren already walking off and sliding into the office, which I now noticed was clearly labeled as disability services.

Feeling a bit of heat on the back of my neck for talking to myself, I busied with packing up my things and went to grab the coffee.

The only thing I could think about while I waited in the cafe line was how Quinton would be irritated with me. He'd hate that I asked Bren to walk back to Ackley Hall together. At least five lectures. Quinton had given me at least five lectures about being careful around guys on campus. He was worried I'd become a statistic.

But nothing was going to happen walking across campus in the middle of the day.

Oakland State was annoyingly massive, and I was already over walking across it every day. Usually, I listened to my music as I trekked about; it took roughly five songs to get from the student center where we were to the dorm where we lived. It would be nice to have company for once.

Bren met up with me pretty quickly, and I blew on my hot latte as he stopped to throw on a sweatshirt. There was an unseasonable chill in the air. I drew my own sweater around me tighter as I appreciated Bren's understated style—black jeans with a few holes in them, black v-neck, and a grey hoodie.

He wore the expression on his face well, too. A little dark and enigmatic, some people might be turned away by those shuttered eyes.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing the way I hovered over my coffee. The ocean breeze, usually fresh and welcoming, was hitting campus like a storm today. Bren pulled a jean jacket out of his backpack and held it out to me.

"Oh." I hesitated, for some reason feeling weird about taking his clothes. But then the autumn breeze embraced us again, blowing my hair into my face, sending shivers down my spine.

"Jesus, just take the jacket, Madie," Bren said, shaking his head with a smile. He took my cup of coffee right out of my hand and threw the denim in my direction.

I slid my arms into it as my lips quirked up, grinning without meaning. There was a faint smell of cologne and...pine?

"Did you have a good time the other night?" he asked. "With..." 

"Quinton," I supplied. 

"Right," Bren said tightly. "With Quinton." 

There was a short, awkward silence until I remembered there was an actual question lingering there between us. 

"After years of going to football parties, they get a little old," I said. "But yeah, it was fun."

Fun was maybe overselling it. Quinton got blackout drunk, and I spent most of the evening taking care of him. But Bren didn't need to know that. 

There were a lot of things that I kept to myself. And for good reason.

Bren gave me a sideways glance. "It must have been more fun than sitting in the dorms eating Cool Whip."

A smile teased my lips. "You underestimate Cool Whip."

Or overestimated the party, but whatever. 

"You know, I bought some," he said, surprising me. 

"You did?" 

He shrugged before looking down at his feet. "Thought I needed to give it a try. After all, you were pretty defensive about it."

"I was not defensive." 

He raised a silent brow as a comeback, and I swallowed a laugh.

"Okay, what did you think then? Tell me your Cool Whip verdict." 

He paused dramatically before admitting his truth. "Ice cream by the spoonfuls would definitely be better." 

I scoffed. "Whatever." 

His soft chuckle carried over the wind. "It's in the lounge fridge if you ever run out."

"I'm sure you'll give in and devour it before that happens." 

"Maybe." Bren shoved his hands in his pockets, and his lips curved up. "You never know." 

I couldn't help but notice he seemed just a tiny bit happier than he had been thirty minutes ago, walking into disability services.

And all I really wanted was to be the type of person who could make someone like Bren Hadaway smile.

—-
September fourteenth.

You smiled without thinking today.

You smiled a little for yourself.

Maybe....three

Maybe you're brighter than you thought.

🖤
Thanks for reading chapter 3 of It Burns Within Us!
Let me know what you think!