Staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the fact that the clock beside my bed says it’s nearly two in the afternoon. At least it’s a Sunday and no one is waiting on me. I pick up my phone and scroll through the mindless stream of social media, paying absolutely no attention as I try to not go over the horrific day I had yesterday, but I’m failing.
Between my so-not-happy-to-see-me new roomie and the longest meeting ever with the academic advisor, my brain was officially cheese.
Holey, gooey cheese.
After pushing me to pick a major, I landed on Psychology with a minor in Art, because I have to find some joy somewhere right? Plus, the human mind has always fascinated me. Yes, I’m one of those basic bitches that loves serial killer books and documentaries. Anyone that wants to come for me should know that, at this point, I basically know how to get away with murder.
Well, in theory anyway.
Just thinking about my course load this semester has me looking forward to the New Year already, especially when I couldn’t get any art credits in this semester and still make my schedule work. Seven classes will be easy, right?
At least this way I can get through my associates degree in just five semesters and spend as little time at Saints U as possible. The thought of being indebted to Chase Kensington makes my teeth ache. Even if he is my stepdad now, it still feels like I’ll owe him, and that thought makes my skin crawl. Just having the credit card in my wallet feels like a lead weight.
I groan as I cover my face with my hands. Really, I should be packing, ready to move into the dorms later today, ready for classes to start tomorrow, and getting used to being there with Penelope, but all I want to do is curl up and hide in my closet. Maybe sleep for a few days.
Part of my reluctance could, just maybe, be the fact that Travis will be on campus. I can’t deal with his brand of hatred right now. I only had a small taste of it on Saturday, and I can’t cope with that on top of all the change right now.
Usually, I’m the steady ship in stormy waters. I can adapt to almost any change, but something about the icy hate he shot at me has me off-kilter.
Stop, Briar. Enough. Focus on school.
Maybe I should get a job. Then I wouldn’t need to use the stupid credit card, at least. But juggling a job plus seven classes in my first semester doesn’t exactly feel like a good idea.
I shake my head, hating myself for being such a whiny bitch. Sad little poor girl is thrust into the rich world and complains about having money. Makes zero sense, but I’m also just not that girl. I like to make my own way. Some might call it stubborn or strong-minded and, personally, I don’t usually give a fuck, but I also don’t want to offend Chase.
Goddamn, I wish my mom would have talked to me about all of this rather than dumping it in my lap upon landing back on this side of the country. But no, that isn’t how my mom operates.
To be fair, I should consider myself lucky she warned me at all. It’s more than I’ve ever had before.
No more whiny shit. Suck it up and get on with your crap.
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly before sitting up, popping a cherry Lifesaver in my mouth and staring at the closet. I really don’t need much, and it’s not like the house is far from campus. I spent most of Sunday unpacking my suitcases, so I grab the biggest one and start repacking for my dorm while trying to go through my schedule for the week in my head.
I’m probably most excited about Abnormal Psych from my first semester course load. Peering into the human mind is fascinating, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get an insight into my own damage. Pretty sure my trauma would take a trained professional years to unpack, but a little self-help never hurt anyone.
Probably not something I should be worried about. I’m only eighteen, nearly nineteen, but I’ve been an adult for a really long time. Pretty much since my dad skipped out and my mom stopped showing up as a parent.
I say this, knowing that sometimes I make really stupid decisions that I don’t consider consequences for.
Case in point—fucking three guys I didn’t know the other night and now being in this insane situation.
Epic plan, Briar. Don’t be your normal awkward self for a night, Briar. What’s the worst that could happen, Briar? Fucking genius.
I finish packing up my suitcase and stare at the room that’s mine, but absolutely isn’t. I doubt this will ever feel like home. Then again, nowhere has ever really felt like home, so I can’t even be sad about it.
Deep breath, Briar. We might hate the how of what’s in front of us, but this is an opportunity to be the version of ourself we never thought we’d have the chance to be.
Picking up my suitcase, I make my way back down through the Kensington mansion and head outside.
This is a new start, and even if I hate how I got it, I don’t intend to waste one fucking moment of it. I have the chance of a future beyond a dead-end job for the rest of my life, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it slip away.
* * *
I pull my t-shirt down, trying to keep my hands busy as I make my way across campus. My first night in the dorm was hellish. Penelope definitely isn’t happy that I’m there, but I woke up with my hair still on my head, my eyebrows on my face, and my stuff not torn to shreds.
I’m taking the win, because, from our brief encounter, she definitely seems like the spiteful, petty bitch type.
But I’m still positive living in the dorm will be better for me than living with Mom and her new husband. Becauseickdoesn’t quite cover how I feel about my mom in the honeymoon stage. You’d think after the men she’s carouseled in and out of my life I’d be used to it, but it’s not something I’ll ever get used to.