Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  Always.

  x

  I drop the letter in my lap and rub my eyes with the heel of my palm. Her words. They sink into me, stealing my breath. Cracking my chest wide open. And it’s like discovering she’s gone all over again.

  What does she mean, it’s time for me to spread my wings? Then my eyes land on the letterhead underneath her note.

  Atchison College.

  My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out the sounds of my gentle sobs. She didn’t… she wouldn’t. But as my trembling fingers reach for the packet, I know what it is. It’s my dream—the one I gave up to care for a sick woman who needed me. And it’s ironic really, that in life she stole my dream away, and in death she’s handing it back.

  I should feel something. A flicker of relief. Excitement. A seed of hope blossoming deep inside my chest. Instead, I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know how to overcome the crippling pain I experience every time I let myself remember this is real.

  That she’s gone.

  And only one thought stands out.

  I’m not ready.

  I wake early, restless and exhausted from yesterday. It's the tenth morning I've woken and not had to rush to my grandmother's side. My life is my own again.

  And therein lies the problem.

  For the last two-and-a-half years, my life has been dictated for me. When we found out my grandmother had cancer, there was no doubt in my mind I would care for her for as long as she needed me. Her prognosis wasn't good. Even with all the chemo and radiotherapy in the world, the chances of her making her seventieth birthday were slim. But she was nothing if not stubborn, proving doctors wrong at every turn. The day her body finally up and quit on her, she was almost seventy-one.

  The faintest hint of a smile forms on my lips. We'd thrown her a big party when she turned seventy. Mrs. Samson, me, a few of their friends from church. I made a big sponge cake and listened to them relive stories from their younger years. Even though the drugs were slowly eating their way through her body, my grandmother insisted on dressing for the occasion and sat in her wingback chair like royalty. All she'd needed was a crown. But that was Matilda Kopps. She made the most of every moment.

  Every last breath.

  Her words rush into my mind. Spread your wings. The dreams I once had of one day attending college seem so far away.

  Another life.

  But my purpose in life is no longer and, without her, I no longer know who I am or what I want to do with my life. It's a revelation I wasn't prepared for.

  A revelation I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with.

  My eyes flicker to the envelope on my desk and I throw back the covers. With the thick pile in my grasp again, I return to the bed, shuffling against the headboard.

  Dear Miss Materson,

  On behalf of the Atchison College of Liberal Arts, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for admission for fall 2019...

  I read the letter. And then read it again, absorbing every last detail.

  She did it.

  My zany, doting, huge-hearted grandmother applied to school on my behalf from her deathbed.

  What the hell was she thinking?

  But this time, the dread that pooled in my stomach at the thought of leaving this place is no longer overwhelming. It's there. But so is something else. Something unexpected.

  Something unfamiliar.

  Hope.

  2.

  Atchison College is perfect.

  My grandmother knew what I needed better than I did. The only college I’d ever considered, back when college was still an option, the campus is small enough to not be overwhelming, but big enough that I feel its energy.

  The buzz.

  And I'd be lying if I didn't say it excites me.

  I check my orientation packet again for my dorm assignment. Since I missed most of orientation week, there was no grand welcome for me. No long lines of nervous kids waiting to start the next phase of their lives. Just a gray-haired woman with an intimidating glare and a sharp tongue. She'd handed me my packet with well-rehearsed directions that obviously floated right over my head, given I am well and truly lost.

  Grinding to a halt, I turn the campus map in my hands and try to locate my position. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, imagining my dorm building, visualizing the correct route. But, before I can finish, someone clears their throat. “Can I help?”

  My eyes flicker open. “Would you believe me if I said, I'm lost?”

  The guy tilts his head studying me, and I immediately avert my gaze. He's so breathtakingly gorgeous, and I'm not used to being around people. Or guys. Especially ones who look like him. But there’s something else. A familiarity to him. A deep sense of déjà vu I can’t explain. He doesn’t have the kind of face… eyes… smile… or body you would forget in a hurry. Not that I have much to compare it to.

  “Where are you headed?” He leans in to study my map and I point to the blob marked Amelia Earhart Dormitory trying to catch my breath as my heart does little flips against my rib cage.

  “Earhart, nice. Okay, you want to follow this path all the way to the end and take a right. It's the last building on the left.” He steps back, flashing me a blinding smile.

  “Wow, that easy.” I snatch the map away and shove it into my backpack. “Guess I really need to learn how to read one of these things.”

  “I'm Cael.” He holds out his hand, but I just stare at it. Too focused on the rapid beat of my heart.

  What is that?

  For someone who can feel everything around her, I have a strangely hard time defining what it is about Cael that affects me. Besides the fact he’s completely gorgeous, with his sun-kissed blond hair, strong jaw, and eyes the color of the sky on a clear day.

  “I'm a sophomore,” he adds catching my attention and I blink at him.

  “Sorry, I'm Terra. Terra Materson.”

  His eyes widen a fraction, and something flashes in his twinkling blue depths. “Terra, you say? Cool name.” He rakes a hand through messy blond hair and I’m mesmerized by the action. The way the strands stick to his fingers and then fall around his face.

  So mesmerized, I realize I’m staring.

  Again.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I'm headed your way. Come on, I can give you the tour.” He motions for me to join him and we walk side by side.

  It's weird. Being this close to a guy. Not that I'm anti-guys or anything, but the last two and half years haven't exactly left me much time to socialize. Besides, I'm not good with people. I’m more of a nature girl.

  “So where are you from?”

  “Lebanon, Kansas.”

  “Not too far from home then,” Cael says. “I love it out here. Close enough to the city but far away enough to clear my head.”

  Nodding politely, I tuck a wisp of hair behind my ear. Cael makes it so easy. Filling any potential awkward silences—and there are many—with details about himself and Atchison. When we reach my building, he swishes his arm through the air and bends at the waist, dipping his head. “Your accommodation, milady.”

  I struggle to stifle the smile forming on my lips. He's so cute. And it's so unexpected, but surprisingly, our whole interaction eases the nerves that have taken up permanent residence in my stomach since I decided to come here.

  “Thank you. You didn't have to do that.”

  “And pass up the opportunity to walk a beautiful girl to her building?” His brows furrow and I blush deeply.

  “Well, thanks again.”

  “I'll see you around, Terra.” He salutes, and doubles back onto the main path, but not before calling, “Welcome to Atchison.”

  I offer him a small wave and make my way into the red brick building. Another thing about this place, it's old. I can feel its memories swirling in the air like tendrils of smoke, seeping into my soul and comforting me. From the huge billowing oak trees dotted about campus, to the wooden benches lining the various paths cutting to the building
s, I feel it all. Their story. Their life. And I almost can't believe I gave up this opportunity. Too paralyzed by my own fears and insecurities to decide.

  But, in the end, I knew I had to come. Just as my grandmother had said, it was time to spread my wings. I guess in some ways, since I moved to her farm, I'd been hiding. Protecting myself from cruel words and narrow-minded views. In the small town of Lebanon people didn't understand me—they didn't try. But this is college. A chance to pave myself a new path. To learn and grow and experience all the things I've missed out on.

  “Oh hi, you must be the new girl.”

  A slim girl with dark hair styled into a pixie cut narrows her eyes at me. “I'm Jesse.”

  “Terra.”

  Hostility radiates from her and I'm reminded why I don't put myself in new social situations. She's judging me. Trying to see underneath my quiet demeanor and uncertain smile. Trying to figure out what it is she senses about me.

  What makes me different.

  “You got the best room in the building,” she clips out and continues walking. “So fricking lucky.”

  I don't stick around to meet anyone else. A frisson of nerves burns through my stomach as I climb the stairs to the first floor. Room nine is at the end of the hallway, set away from the other rooms. I don't know if my grandmother knew about this or put in a special request, but I thank the heavens. I'll have my own space which, after my run in with Jesse, I'm sure I'll need.

  The room is lofty with a sloping window running the length of the far wall, and I can see it looks out over the trees acting as a natural perimeter for the campus. Upon closer inspection, I realize it's probably another source of Jesse's envy. There is access to a small private balcony, and I'm quietly thrilled by the idea of dragging my chair out there and studying. Some of the trees overhang the side of the building; so close I can almost touch them. It's perfect for me. My very own tree-top escape.

  Dropping my duffle bag on the bed, I take in the rest of the space. A simple desk, closet, and chest of drawers make up the rest of the room. Above the desk are two sturdy bookshelves and to the side of that, a corkboard already displaying important college announcements. The carpet is a dark gray. The curtains are a pale lilac with a shimmering swirl pattern running through them. Not too dissimilar to the color of my eyes.

  I go to the huge window and find the latch. It's stiff but after a couple of seconds, I work it free and push it open, fixing the lever in place. A cool breeze rushes into the room and I close my eyes centering myself.

  I did it.

  My grandmother would be proud.

  Now I just have to figure out how to be here.

  When someone knocks on my door a little later, I half-expect to see Jesse. But it isn't. It's a dark-skinned girl with blue eyes that sparkle under the fluorescent strip lighting.

  “Hi, I'm Amalia,” she says softly, and unlike earlier with Jesse, I don't feel any contempt flowing from her, only curiosity. “Welcome to Earhart.”

  “Thanks, I'm—”

  “Terra. I know who you are.”

  “You do?” My head tilts as I struggle to hide my confusion and alarm at her words.

  “Oh, no, gosh, it's nothing weird. I'm the dorm rep so I get a list of all new students. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. If you have any problems, I'm your girl.” She stands taller, blinding me with a pearly-white smile.

  “Thank you,” I reply. “That's very nice of you.”

  “Well, it’s kind of my job. I'm a senior so I know pretty much everything there is to know about Atchison.” Someone calls Amalia from down the hallway and she glances over her shoulder before settling her twinkling gaze back on me. “A few of the girls are meeting downstairs in the common room, if you'd like to join us?”

  Part of me wants to say yes. The word lingers on the tip of my tongue daring me to take a leap but instead, “I think I'm going to unpack and get settled, but thanks,” spews out.

  Disappointment flashes over her face. “Well, maybe another time? It was really nice to meet you, Terra.”

  “You too,” I say closing the door and I can almost hear my grandmother's scolding tone.

  But all I can think is, one step at a time.

  3.

  I stare at my reflection. Red curls frame my face, contrasting with my violet eyes and porcelain skin. Nervous energy thrums in my body. Today, classes start. I've studied my schedule at least four times already. Maybe five. I've checked and rechecked the room numbers and buildings to avoid getting lost.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, silently acknowledging my grandmother for this gift. Hoping that wherever she is, she can hear me.

  I just need to remember college is not high school. There's no pressure to conform or bend to the social rules passed down from generation to generation. I'm free to be myself. Although it's hard to forget Jesse's scowl of disapproval when I arrived yesterday. Or the way the girl along the hall from me gave me the once over as I went in search of the communal kitchen.

  I'm here to learn. To expand my mind. But I don't know if I'm ready yet to delve into the complex world of friendships.

  One step at a time, I repeat to myself.

  With a deep breath, I grab my backpack and leave my room. I'll need to stop by the bookstore today and pick up the recommended reading list since there was hardly any time to prepare after Mr. Bannatyne delivered the letter.

  The dorm is a flurry of activity and I keep my head down as I make my way downstairs and out of the building. They probably already think I'm a loner—a weirdo. But it's nothing I haven't been labelled before.

  The morning air is fresh, and I inhale deeply before setting off toward the Malcolm building.

  “Terra,” a familiar voice calls. “Wait up.”

  I turn to see Cael jogging toward me. A pale gray knitted beanie covers his head, blond curls peeking out from under the edges. “I thought it was you.” He smiles, and it sends my stomach into a tight ball of nerves.

  “Let me guess, my hair gave me away?” I throw him a sideways glance and he chuckles.

  “Something like that. Where are you headed?”

  “The Malcolm building.”

  “Philosophy major?” His brow quirks up.

  “Maybe. I'm not sure yet.”

  “I know that feeling. I have no idea what I'll major in.”

  Cael guides us down a leafy path. The trees sway in the gentle breeze and I feel their stories brushing against me. It used to be overwhelming to hear them, but my grandmother helped me see it was a gift, not a curse. Although, I’m still not entirely convinced.

  “Terra?” Cael is looking at me, his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you okay?”

  It's then I realize I am still, rooted to the spot watching one of the older oak trees.

  “I, ahh, I don't think I'm fully awake yet. Mainly because I didn't get chance to have my usual two cups of coffee.” I force a half-smile and mischief glints in his eyes as he checks his wristwatch.

  “We have time, come on.” He reaches for my hand and a strange sensation hits me in the chest causing me to suck in a sharp breath. But before I can consider what it means, he's yanking me down the path mumbling something about Beans.

  Beans turns out to be the campus coffee shop. Tucked away behind the library, it's warm and cozy and full of students in need of their caffeine fix before heading to class.

  “Grab a seat,” Cael says holding the door open for me. “Coffee's on me.”

  I duck inside ready to argue with him, but he slips by me and joins the line. The place is already buzzing but I manage to find an empty table by the window. Looking out over the campus, it’s a great spot and I imagine myself curled up in the big comfy armchair, watching the world go by. Always watching and never living.

  “White, extra shot, no sugar.” Cael slips onto the bench opposite me and pushes the coffee across the table.

  “But how—”

  He winks, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I
am an excellent reader of people and you, Terra Materson, look like an extra shot kind of girl.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess.” I take the cup, still reeling from the fact he knew exactly how I like my coffee. But I when I take a sip, I know he isn’t messing with me. It tastes perfect. Rich and smooth and full of flavor, it warms my insides. “Hmm, it’s good.”

  “Nothing but the best for a pretty girl.”

  Heat creeps into my cheeks and I lower my eyes.

  “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t shy away from a compliment.”

  “I—”

  “Cael, man, is that you?” Two guys approach the table and I’m sure I catch Cael murmur something under his breath but then he’s standing, clapping hands with one of the guys, laughing and smiling. The other one catches my eye before shooting Cael an inquisitive look. He lets out a resigned sigh and says, “Terra, this is Duke, and Omar. Guys, meet Terra.”

  “Hey,” the tall, dark one says flatly, but the other fixes his eyes right on me and blinds me with a wide smile.

  “Terra.” He nods, and I attempt to return the gesture but I’m not comfortable with the way his friend is watching me.

  “Okay.” Cael slings his arm around the brooding friend’s shoulder, jolting him out of his reverie. “I’ll see you two out on the track. Prepared to get your ass whooped.”

  “No way, man.” He shirks out of Cael’s hold and rolls his shoulders. “You had freshman luck last year. This year, the title’s mine.”

  “Be careful, Omar, that sounds like a challenge.” Cael waggles his eyebrows at him and Omar shoots him a glare that makes me shrink back in the chair. The air thickens, crackling with an undercurrent I don’t understand.

  “Come on, dude.” The other guy—Duke, Cael had called him—pulls Omar away and glances between the two of them. “Let’s not talk shit in front of the lady.” He flicks his gaze to me and I pretend to be watching something out of the window.

  “Yeah, save it for the track.” Cael’s voice is light, playful even, but I know I’m not imagining the tension surrounding our small corner of the coffee shop.