Smash into You

by Sherry Soule

  “I see you’ve finished most of your general education requirements already,” Ms. Greene said, gazing down her nose at what I assumed were my school records. “And you don’t have a major in mind yet?”

  “I’m leaning toward liberal arts,” I said. “Or art history.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. “Your transcripts state that you took several art courses at your last school. What do you hope to specialize in?”

  Ah, my favorite subject!

  I genuinely smiled. “I really like the painterly style.” Warm tingles vibrated throughout my limbs as I continued, “There’s just something so honest and beautiful about the art of painting. It feels incredibly organic and real and visceral…” I stopped rambling when her eyes glazed over. I could talk art for hours, but it usually bored the non-artist types.

  “That’s all very well.” Ms. Greene closed the folder and leaned across the desk. “But painting sounds more like an indulgent hobby, so I hope you can keep up your grade-point average, too.”

  My fingers clenched the armrests. She sounded like my dad. They must’ve talked, but how much had he told her?

  I blew out a breath and flexed my hands. “I will. I plan to focus on my coursework, and avoid any outside distractions this year.”

  “Good. Here is a copy of the honor code.” She held a sheet of paper over the little gold nameplate at the edge of her desk and I took it. “At Beaumont, the honor code covers all aspects of campus life. We hold each other and ourselves to exceptionally high academic and personal standards, Serena. And I expect you to excel in all aspects of campus life.” She stared at me as if she expected an answer.

  “That’s why I’m here…to excel,” I said.

  Ms. Greene nodded. “Tell me why you transferred schools your sophomore year.”

  I squirmed in my seat. My dad hadn’t told her why I’d relocated to Beaumont, but this question was bound to come up. A nameless dread seeped into my veins and the walls blurred. Well, it probably had a weird German term, like Geschklichkeit or something equally hard to pronounce. The type of ominous dread that nobody knew the name of, like those square plastic gizmos that closed a bread bag.

  “Serena?”

  My fingers worried the hem of my shirt. For a second, the heartbreaking events from last spring and the messy aftermath sent my heart into seizures. I breathed through my mouth.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  On the outside, my clothes, makeup, and hair appeared flawless. My life perfect. Even my wealthy, prominent family seemed ideal. That was all a huge ugly lie because I’d succeeded in keeping up appearances for months now. If the truth ever came out, it would demolish my perfect façade. And there was no way I could let that happen.

  Ms. Greene frowned. “You look pale. Are you all right?”

  I exhaled slowly, returning to the present. I shoved those old ghosts haunting my past back into the closet and bolted the door.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I blinked. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

  “I asked why you transferred schools.”

  Now way could I reveal the horrifying truth to a complete stranger. But I could have a little fun creating a different scenario.

  “I really shouldn’t be discussing it…” I paused dramatically, and she leaned forward. I glanced around the room as if checking to make sure we were alone. Then I faced her and lowered my voice. “My grandfather’s in the mafia and he was recently named the godfather. When I refused to join the family business”—I made air quotes with my fingers—“he was furious. So I had to secretly move away and change schools.”

  I hadn’t meant to fabricate such a big lie, it just sort of came out.

  “I-I had no idea.” She stared at me, her mouth open. “You don’t even look Italian.”

  I nodded. “That’s actually a huge misconception. Most of the populace in Italy has lighter complexions.”

  “How interesting. When I watch those gangster movies with my husband, all the actors are dark and smarmy. ”

  I shrugged. “But you understand, right? That this information should be kept just between us?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Of course! You can rely on my discretion.”

  “Thank you.” Sniffling, I pretended to swipe at a tear in the corner of my eye. “You know, I’ve already taken up way too much of your time, Ms. Greene.” I lifted my messenger bag from the floor and slung the strap over my shoulder. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do to get ready for classes this week.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t forget that Stevenson Hall’s RA meeting begins in an hour. You don’t want to make a bad impression with your resident advisor.”

  I stood, trying not to bolt out the door. Before I could escape, she spoke again.

  “Welcome to your new life, Miss DuPont.”

  “Thanks.” I grasped the brass doorknob and walked out, shutting the door quietly. Then I froze in the doorway, my spine hitting the wood.

  That über-gorgeous stranger from the other night stood in the corridor, minus the pretty redhead draped around his body. He exuded an intoxicating sexual charisma that caused this an inexplicable, instant pull toward him.

  He lounged across the hall with a battered paperback in his hands. He was reading so I had a chance for an up-close-and-personal inspection. The stranger towered over my five-feet, four inches. A dark scruff covered his face, like it hadn’t seen a razor in days, and he had a generous mouth. His hair fell forward in soft waves around his chiseled face. His bone structure alone would’ve made a sculptor yearn to capture his savage gorgeousness.

  The door wrenched open behind me and I jumped. He glanced up and our gazes locked. Those warm brown eyes narrowed slightly. Heat instantly warmed my face. I’d been caught doing a total stare-fest, and I’d officially crossed over into creeper territory.

  My cheeks burned. I had been standing there staring at him for longer than I cared to think about.

  “Hey, blondie. Got your pepper spray locked and loaded?” he said, rocking this sexy half-grin and pretending to hold a can up, like my pseudo attempt at self-defense last night.

  Hot damn. He was beyond cute.

  I managed a faint smile. “Um, h-hey,” I stammered.

  The hottie nodded, staring back at me as if I was a shiny new toy. The dominant magnetism of his gaze grew in intensity, becoming an almost tangible force of sexual prowess.

  My heart raced, and my stomach quivered. I shifted backward and stepped on Ms. Greene’s foot. She groaned and swore under her breath.

  “Oh! Sorry,” I mumbled.

  She cleared her throat. “Did you need anything else, Miss DuPont?”

  “Me? No. Nothing.” I hurried out the door without looking back as if the hottie had major cooties.

  Geez. I was twenty, not thirteen.

  I’d never been good at flirting or witty banter. But it seemed at stammering and blushing, I’d become a regular pro. And what on earth was going on with my hormone surges?

  This insta-lust thing I felt for that hot stranger was not going to fly. I could not make the same mistakes again.

  ROOMMATES

  My new roommate and I were polar opposites. Her name was Vanessa Carmichael and she apparently guzzled energy drinks by the gallon, and her tousled copper hair looked like the “before” picture in a Pantene commercial. At least she seemed nice and normal. I wouldn’t have to worry about her doing anything weird like stealing my underwear or taking cellphone pictures of me while I slept to post on Instagram.

  Our shared room was enormous compared to my old dormitory. Stevenson Hall had an ancient brick façade, but they’d remodeled the interior to create larger rooms. Apparently, not all dorm rooms resembled dank prison cells with painted cinderblock walls, ours was more like an expensive apartment than regular campus housing. Even better, the dorms had single-gender floors.

  While Vanessa talked a mile a minute, folded the clothes o
n her bed, and sipped a Red Bull, I inspected her—incredibly cluttered—side of the room. I flicked a glance at the red poster with that lame phrase “Keep Calm and Carry On” in white lettering over her headboard. Vanessa had fastened a corkboard to the wall above her desk, pinned with snapshots of her high school debate team and blue ribbon awards for science and math. Piles of Old Navy hoodies and graphic shirts and bell-bottom cords were scattered on her black comforter.

  “…then I laughed so hard, I nearly peed in my hemp underwear…Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

  I glanced up. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”

  Vanessa pushed up her glasses. “You don’t care that I took the right side? Because I like being closer to the window and you came a day late—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, shifting on my bed and lowering the novel I’d been reading.

  My new home. This square, off-white room with its squeaky wooden floor, and only two closets that barely fit all my clothes and shoes. My gaze swept over my side of the room, which resembled an ad from an IKEA catalog, decorated in girly pastel colors of turquoise, white, and pink, with two prints of Vincent van Gogh’s artwork gracing the walls. Over my headboard, I’d hung a string of twinkle lights.

  I fluffed the row of pillows behind my head and stretched my legs. I’d loved shopping for all my new stuff. My dad just handed over his credit card with a warning not to go too crazy. It allowed me to imagine a completely different life to go with my brand-new persona. Capitalism rocks!

  “If it’s gonna be an issue, I can move my stuff,” Vanessa said.

  “I don’t care. Honest.”

  Vanessa took a swig of her drink. She blinked her big owlish eyes behind square-framed glasses. “Awesome. My roommate last year was sooo picky. She was always borrowing my stuff without asking, and making out with her emo boyfriend…”

  Chatty Vanessa would be my cellmate for the next year. Oh, yay. I already wanted to duct tape her mouth shut.

  Lifting my paperback, I shoved both earbuds into my ears and turned on my iPod, the soft melody drowning out her voice. My roommate had started yakking the moment I entered the room after my meeting with Ms. Greene. Her favorite topic? Herself.

  In the first ten minutes of meeting my roommate, I’d learned that Vanessa was a middle child, president of the Earth Matters!—environmental issues—club on campus, wrote The Vampire Diaries fanfiction, used the word “awesome” a lot, and had a boyfriend named Levi who attended MIT.

  “…it’s hard with Levi living so far away. We only get to see each other on break. Over the summer we went to this awesome Comic-Con that featured Marvel’s The Avengers in San Francisco.” Vanessa stuffed a hoodie into a dresser drawer. “And you’ll never guess who was there!”

  My turn to talk. Yay.

  I stretched my arms over my head, lowering the volume on my iPod. “The amazing writer and director Joss Whedon?”

  “No!” She waved both hands in the air like a crazed fangirl. “Even better...Loki, Tom Hiddleston! Omigod, he’s even hotter in person and so nice. I asked him to pose for a selfie with me and, of course, he did. I posted it on Facebook and I got a hundred likes within an hour. It was so awesome—”

  “Really? Do you have the pic?” I asked, trying to make an effort.

  Vanessa rewarded me with a five-second pause while she dug through her slouchy purse to retrieve her iPhone. “Um, it might take me a while to find it....”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Oh! Awesome! I got two new reviews on my fanfic page.” She stared at her phone, scrolling through the screen with a sparkly green fingernail. “Crapola. I can’t find it.”

  “No worries,” I said, pulling my comforter over my body.

  Vanessa pushed up her glasses. “What’re you doing? Aren’t you ready?”

  I lowered the book. “For what?”

  “For the RA house meeting,” she said, her abnormally large eyes bulging. “We’re going to meet our resident advisor.”

  I sat up, closed the novel, and turned off my iPod. “Oh. Right.”

  “I heard our RA is super awesome,” Vanessa said. “There are only a few people I recognize from last year, but I can’t wait to meet the others.” She stared at me expectantly.

  I forced a smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Isn’t college exciting? Every year feels like a whole new adventure. It’s gonna be awesome!”

  “Yeah,” I said in a false cheery voice. “I hope that I learn from this whole college experience, and that I grow as a person.”

  Her grin wilted. “Ohimgosh. Am I being annoying?”

  I shook my head. “What? No, it’s great that you’re so enthusiastic.”

  “It’s just that back in high school it felt like knowledge was frowned upon, you know? You actually had to struggle to learn anything interesting. But college is so different. The high energy, the enthusiasm to learn and expand our minds. It’s all so exciting and awesome!”

  “I’m with you. I’m all for exciting, awesome knowledge,” I said, bobbing my head in agreement.

  I trudged behind her while she practically skipped out the door. I wished I felt half as eager and perky as she did. Unfortunately, I already saw the girls on our floor, chatting on their cellphones, folding their designer jeans, and hauling expensive hair products into the communal showers. Now that I was here, these girls seemed like a tight-knit unit I couldn’t penetrate.

  One of the reasons I’d chosen Beaumont was for its smaller student body, but now it just felt like everyone already knew each other in that small town way and I was the outsider looking in. They gossiped, sharing private jokes and tales of their summer escapades, which only emphasized the fact that I didn’t have any friends here.

  Although, I didn’t know anyone, at least I’d blend in fashion-wise. My dad wasn’t a bazillionaire, but he was a high-powered senator. Even one of the Kennedys was a distant cousin, so money for me had never really been an issue. And there wasn’t a single item in my closet that would make me stick out like a frequent Walmart shopper. My wardrobe consisted of a mix of designer labels and everyday brands, although most of it was paint-splattered. I might not have any friends, but my Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahniks were nothing, if not loyal.

  Not that I wanted to chat and giggle and do a bunch of girl bonding. No one at this college knew anything about me, which was just the way it had to be for now.

  Everyone gathered in the common room—otherwise known as the student lounge for the RA meeting. Each floor had its own resident advisor, an upper-class student who underwent residential life training. Well-worn leather couches and chairs encumbered the room and two desks offered study space against one wall with a flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite side.

  Dozens of young women sat or stood, talking and laughing, and the noise level was deafening. A blend of fragrances—from scented hair products to perfumed body lotions—clogged the atmosphere. Vanessa bounced into the lounge and perched on the arm of a couch.

  The girl sitting at the end of the sofa next to Vanessa jerked her arm back. “Watch it,” she snapped.

  I hovered by the door where there was more breathable air.

  A young woman stood near the TV holding a stack of documents. A plaid headband pushed back the short, bob haircut from her face.

  She checked her gold-plated watch and wrinkled her nose. “Okay! It’s time! Let’s get started.” The RA waved me further into the room. “Come in, come in.”

  Everyone turned around to look at me. With no other seats open, I walked across the room and dropped to the floor near Vanessa’s feet.

  “Hello and welcome to Stevenson Hall. I’m Colleen Armstrong—no relation to the astronaut—and your RA this year,” she said in a bubbly voice.

  Four girls tittered. Even more rolled their eyes. Colleen didn’t seem to notice.

  The RA hugged the papers to her chest. “About me…” She glanced at everyone with a big smile, displaying clear braces. “I’
m a senior at Beaumont and lived in this dorm my sophomore year.” Colleen checked her clipboard. “Okay, so onto the rules. I know some of you have heard these before, but bear with me. I have to go over everything. First, I’ll handout the rulebook,” she said, earning a few groans, which actually made her grin widen. Colleen passed out the stack to each of us while going over the rules.

  When I got mine, I scanned it and shook my head. It seemed like a lifetime ago I’d done this same thing at my old college. But this was the first time I’d been away from home and living on my own, and I was still getting used to my freedom.

  “Well, that’s it! I have a really good feeling about this group. It’s going to be an amazing year! I look forward to getting to know each of you.” Colleen yelled the last part because everyone stood and shuffled out of the lounge.

  I hung back, hoping to strike up a conversation with someone. But no one approached me or said more than a passing ‘hello’ as they strolled by. It was kinda of like being back in gym class in high school when they were choosing dodge ball teams and no one picked me for their side.

  I shuffled back to my dorm room alone while Vanessa chatted with two girls. As I eased down the hall, I couldn’t help but glance into the rooms with open doors. I kept my pace even while I eyeballed the other students inside talking, unpacking, or listening to music. No one invited me in, as though I was invisible to them.

  But tomorrow would be a fresh start. A chance to make friends and begin a completely different life.

  THE DEAL

  The second my eyes blinked open the next morning, a sense of dread struck hard. I hadn’t slept well. Every noise, each creak of the building made me flinch. The thirty minutes I’d managed to sleep, nightmares plagued me.

  My head pounded. I let out a soft groan so I didn’t disturb a sleeping Vanessa. I got up, grabbed a towel and my shower bag, and shuffled into the communal bathroom with bad fluorescent lighting. Thankfully, only one other girl was in the bathroom. I turned the water on full blast, letting the stream wash over my chilled skin. I closed my eyes, and from behind my lids, images of loud shouting, intense crying, and sharp-edged accusations invaded my head.