Rewriting Destiny
Ridgemont University Book 4
Meredith Taylor
Copyright © 2017 by Meredith Taylor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.
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The characters, locations and events in this book are entirely fictional. Any similarities to actual persons, locations or events is coincidental and unintentional.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About Ridgemont University
Join the adventures and M/M romantic exploits of the students at Ridgemont University in this exciting new series.
Ridgemont University is one of the most prestigious educational institutions in South Africa, with a reputation for academic excellence. It is set in a picturesque, sleepy college town, next to the famous Ridgemont Valley and a fifteen-minute drive from Sandy Shore, where students often laze in the sun and swim in the crystal-clear waters of the many world-class beaches.
The University has highly respected sports teams and cultural groups, and a range of student societies. Many of the academic buildings are more than 100-years-old, and are inspired by both Greek and French architecture. The University Gardens and the local nature reserves also offer magnificent sights for those who love the outdoors.
Once the academic day ends, the town of Ridgemont has a thriving nightlife, and even a healthy gay scene. Most students can find something to keep them stimulated in Ridgemont.
For the latest on Ridgemont University, and to learn more about the guys who are featured in the books, visit meredithtaylorbooks.com.
Rewriting Destiny
Chapter 1
Rain beat down on the roof of the speeding car. Kyle Abrahams could hardly see through the thick sheets that pummeled down on his windscreen as he maneuvered through the winding roads of the Ridgemont Valley. He had to get to Professor Greer’s house as soon as possible, even though it was already the middle of the night. Kyle couldn’t wait another second to share the incredible news with his supervisor.
Kyle’s heart was racing furiously, and his short, curly black hair was plastered on his wet forehead. The red t-shirt Kyle was wearing stuck to his chest in big, darkened blotches. He hadn’t even taken a second to grab a jacket or an umbrella as he ran out of the main building of the Ridgemont University Academy for Experimental Science and Technology. Kyle’s mind was only on one thing: get to Prof. Greer house as soon as possible. The results of his latest experiment were so mind-blowing that Kyle had been in a frenzy. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Prof. Greer’s face. Their hard work had finally paid off.
Kyle squinted his honey-brown eyes in the dark night. The roads leading into the luxurious homes around the Ridgemont Valley were not well-lit; Kyle wished that he could push down on the accelerator even more, but he had to be safe. He wiped droplets from his sharp cheekbone, his deep caramel skin glistening. Kyle’s right hand clutched the steering wheel tightly as he navigated the empty road in the rain. His mind was racing almost as fast as the car was going. There were so many possibilities now that he could prove that his algorithm worked. He couldn’t even fully wrap his mind around it yet. But he knew that it meant that he would be joining the ranks of the scientific greats. No one would be able to deny that this was one of the most groundbreaking accomplishments in modern science and technology.
Kyle finally pulled up to Prof. Greer’s house as the rain was still hammering onto the roof of his car. He grabbed the thick stack of files on the passenger’s seat and clutched them to his chest as he ran out onto Prof. Greer’s beautifully manicured lawn. Kyle rushed to the front door of the large, face-brick house and found some shelter under the front patio’s covering. Kyle was breathing heavily, his heart racing. He felt like he was about to explode from excitement. Kyle knocked loudly and rang the doorbell he found next to the large, ornamental wooden door. If Prof. Greer had any idea what Kyle had just accomplished, he would’ve been at the door in seconds, Kyle thought. He tapped his foot impatiently, and finally, after almost a minute of waiting, he saw lights go on in the house.
Prof. Greer opened the door, wearing only a skimpy sleeveless t-shirt and red silk briefs. Kyle was taken aback. Prof. Greer’s dark hair had wisps of grey, and his strong, masculine jawline was clenched into a frown. Prof. Greer’s green eyes scanned Kyle in confusion. “What are you doing here at this time of night, Kyle?” he demanded.
“Prof, I have to show you something right now. Believe me, you want to see this. Have you been watching the final election results for the mayoral race tonight?” Kyle pushed right past his professor into the house, feeling the bulging, tanned arms of the handsome older man brush against him as he passed. Kyle felt a shiver run up his spine. No time to think about how hot his professor was right now, he decided. The news he brought was far too exhilarating.
Prof. Greer closed the door and followed Kyle into the living room, where Kyle had already grabbed the TV remote and was flipping through channels until he found the live election results. Prof. Greer said, in his deep, stern voice: “I watched some of it before I went to sleep. It’s almost 2 in the morning, Kyle. I didn’t know you cared about politics that much, and I think we could have waited to talk about the results in the morning…”
Kyle spun around to look at Prof. Greer, incredulous, and said: “This isn’t about the results, Prof. I mean, it is about the results. Just let me show you. Where’s your laptop? I need to get into my emails.”
Prof. Greer looked mildly irritated with Kyle’s bluntness, but Kyle didn’t have the patience to worry about being annoying at that moment. Once Prof. Greer saw what Kyle’s algorithm was able to do, all of his annoyance would disappear. Kyle was sure of it.
Prof. Greer got his laptop from his study and set it up on the living room coffee table next to the TV. Kyle sat down in front of the laptop and logged into his emails, Prof. Greer standing over his shoulder to see what he was on about. Kyle felt the heat from Prof. Greer’s body radiate over his shoulder. He suddenly realized that he was still wet from the rain, and felt bad about sitting on Prof. Greer’s expensive chair. But Prof. Greer was clearly realizing just how important Kyle’s news was, as he stared transfixed at the laptop’s screen, waiting for the moment of
revelation.
Kyle immediately cringed when his emails opened. There were a lot of emails from a gay dating site ManMatchMaker.com, and Kyle just hoped that Prof. Greer wasn’t paying attention to those. He opened an email that he had sent himself the day before, with an attachment called “Paul’s Predictions”. Kyle turned to Prof. Greer and said: “Look at the date and time that I sent this email to myself. Yesterday morning at 9.15 a.m. Now look at the TV. This election was insanely close. None of the polls could definitively say who would be elected mayor of Ridgemont, and in fact, the winner, Miriam Charles, was behind in all of the most recent polls. She won with 52.9 percent of the vote. Three days ago, when I configured the new variables for Paul, I asked him who would be elected mayor…”
“Did you say you asked him?” Prof. Greer asked, smiling. “You’re talking about a computer program like it’s a person, now.”
Kyle bit his lip and averted his eyes. It was true that he had been spending a lot of time with the program they called Paul. In fact, he felt like he was starting to have conversations with it, and it wasn’t the first time that Kyle had slipped up and called Paul ‘him’. “Just a slip of the tongue, Prof,” Kyle said. “Anyway, it took Paul seventeen hours to calculate the answer. The new variables I added can look at people’s public social media updates to add to the accuracy of predictions. There are now over five thousand variables Paul uses, and he’s… I mean, it’s adding more all the time thanks to its artificial intelligence. Look at what Paul’s prediction was…” Kyle clicked on the file and he immediately felt Prof. Greer’s breathing stop. Kyle looked back to see his professor staring at the screen with wide eyes and his mouth open. He scanned through the results and turned his attention back and forth from the TV to the laptop’s screen, looking completely dumbfounded.
“Let me see the date of the email again. There has to be some way… If this is real…” Prof. Greer couldn’t string a full sentence together. There, on the screen, in the email that Kyle had sent to himself the day before the elections had even taken place, were the exact same results as those shown on the TV screen: Miriam Charles elected mayor with 52.9 percent of the vote. Amazingly, Paul had even predicted the exact percentage takes of each of the other candidates. Prof. Greer looked floored. “That’s very impressive, Kyle,” Prof. Greer said when he finally got his bearings again. “It’s a major accomplishment. It looks like you’ve been able to make Paul’s predictions much more accurate. Show me the files on the new variables.” Kyle handed the folders he had carried from his car to Prof. Greer. Prof. Greer looked over the large stack of files carefully. Some of the pages were damp with rain, but Prof. Greer didn’t even seem to notice. He was completely blown away by what Kyle was showing him. As he read through the files, Prof. Greer said, without turning to face Kyle: “Of course, we’ll have to verify all of this in the morning, and see what kinds of predictions Paul can really make. But what I’m seeing here is astounding.” Prof. Greer flashed Kyle an enthusiastic smile. Kyle still couldn’t completely wrap his mind around any of it. He had never expected Paul to be that accurate. His mind was spinning, and he could see in Prof. Greer’s eyes that he was considering the same possibilities: as amazing as Paul was, it could also be incredibly dangerous, and its power could be seriously abused if it fell into the wrong hands.
Prof. Greer said: “I trust I don’t have to tell you to keep this all to yourself, Kyle. There is far too much at stake if any of this gets out, and we’re not even sure yet if Paul really works. Can I count on you to be discrete?”
Kyle nodded immediately: “Of course, Prof. I’ll see you in the morning so that we can go through my notes together and try and think of some more tests for Paul. I haven’t slept much for the past few days. I’ve just been so pumped to see if the new variables would make Paul better. I hope I can sleep after this…”
Kyle stood up and walked to the front door, leaving his files for Prof. Greer to go through. Prof. Greer said: “You deserve some rest. This is excellent work.” A glint of something strange flashed in Prof. Greer’s eyes, and Kyle got the impression that he wasn’t completely happy with what he had seen. Was he just worried about what it all meant? Was he angry with Kyle for using new variables without first running them by his supervisor? Kyle decided to ignore it. This was a great moment, and he didn’t need to be bogged down by paranoia.
Kyle walked back to his car as the rain finally died down. He looked out to see the lights of the university buildings in the distance, down the winding road. It felt like a moment of triumph, staring out at the sleeping campus. This was how Kyle would finally achieve greatness. This was his path to glory.
He drove home with a million thoughts buzzing through his mind. Even though Prof. Greer had sworn him to secrecy, Kyle would have to at least tell his best friend, Riana, about what had happened. And surely, asking Paul a few questions of his own wouldn’t be that bad if he kept it quiet. Prof. Greer would never have to know.
Kyle made his way back to the outskirts of Ridgemont University, seeing the magnificent buildings designed in French architectural styles. There were Greek pillars in front of some of the academic buildings, and a large, lavish student hall and library. In the distance, Kyle could see the rugby stadium, with the towering floodlights and a giant billboard advertising the current rugby tournament’s matches. A picture of the Ridgemont University rugby team’s star players stood proudly on the billboard next to the match dates. As Kyle drove past the billboard, he saw the smiling face of the rugby captain staring down at him: Marshall de Villiers. Marshall was handsome and one of the most popular guys on campus, and he had led the Ridgemont team to many rugby victories. Kyle felt a tinge of jealousy. It was so easy for star athletes to find fame and glory, and flaunt their accomplishments. And Kyle had to keep his major accomplishment, Paul, a secret. Kyle wanted to get some of that attention for himself, and be admired the way that Marshall de Villiers was admired. Maybe he could ask Paul for some predictions that he could use to impress people. Maybe, if he could show Marshall what he could do, he could steal just a little bit of the spotlight from the rugby star. Kyle drove to his apartment with a satisfied smile on his face, energized by all of the possibilities.
Chapter 2
The sun was blazing down on the field as the crowd cheered for the teams in the semi-final of the annual intervarsity cup. The Ridgemont University team members all huddled around their coach, beads of sweat dripping from their faces, their taut muscles rippling in the sunlight. Coach Barker, the slightly overweight, middle-aged man who had been a professional rugby player himself in his youth, was trying his best to hide his frustration. His balding, tanned head was turning redder in frustration. Coach Barker could rarely hide his emotions when the team was struggling to win a match. “I need you all to remember the plays we practiced. We need to come together as a team now. Get the ball to Marshall so that he can push through their defenses.” Coach Barker’s breathing was so heavy that he looked like he was about to pass out.
“We’ve got this, Coach!” Marshall de Villiers called out, and clapped his hands rhythmically in an effort to drum up the enthusiasm of his teammates. Marshall was tall, with broad, muscular shoulders that he used effectively when his team was locked in a scrum. His dashing, boyish dimples, large brown eyes and velvety, bronze skin made him the object of many flirtatious glances. His short, wavy black hair was neatly combed with just a flare at the front to frame his face. As Marshall towered over his teammates, he knew that it would be his job to motivate them to close the gap. The Ridgemont team was trailing by two points, and they only had a minute left in play time. Marshall turned his head slowly to look at each player staring back at him: “It’s the quarter-final. We’ve beat this team before, so we know we can do it. All we have to do is focus on this one play. We’ve worked hard and I know we’re the best team in this tournament. We just have to go out there and show them what we’re made of. What do you say?”
The teammates roared in agreemen
t, some even applauding Marshall’s inspiring words. Coach Barker looked relieved that Marshall was able to rouse the team, who had been struggling against the vastly improved University of the Free State team that faced off against them in the semi-final. Coach Barker looked up at Marshall and nodded in thanks, and the team trotted back to the center of the field, ready for action.
Marshall was staring into the face of a menacing UFS student with a missing front tooth. The player was giving him a sideways smile, and Marshall felt a lump in his throat. He hadn’t been prepared for the challenge that UFS was putting up, and was regretting the fact that he had underestimated them. A few weeks before the tournament, in a friendly match, the Ridgemont team had thrashed the UFS team in a 34-15 victory. Now, the teams were in a close finish, with UFS ahead 25-23. If Marshall could somehow get through their hulking defenses, he could score a try and lead his team to victory.
Marshall turned to face his teammate, Reinhardt, just before the whistle was blown. Reinhardt gave Marshall a reassuring smile, and mouthed the words: “You’ve got this.” Reinhardt’s delicate, almost feminine features and fully, rosy cheeks were always reassuring. His blond hair that hung over his ears and forehead made him a strange fit for a rugby field, but his extremely muscular physique showed that he was made to play the sport. Reinhardt was a good friend of Marshall’s, and idolized Marshall for his rugby prowess. Marshall felt pressure not to disappoint Reinhardt, and turned back to face the oafish UFS guy with the missing tooth as he heard the sound of the whistle signal that play would resume.
The guys pushed into a scrum, holding onto one another’s shoulders as the ball was held just outside. Marshall could feel the rock-like muscles of the other guys and smell the pungent sweat of a swarm of young men after almost ninety minutes of play. As the second whistle sounded, the ball was thrown into play and the teams fought in the scrum to secure possession of the ball. Marshall pushed as hard as he could, thrusting his shoulders against the guy in front of him, and finally he felt the ball below him. He kicked it out to the teammate waiting patiently behind the scrum, Quinton, and like lightning Quinton was racing off past the opposing team’s players. Marshall took a second to find his feet, and quickly sprang into action, zipping past the UFS players as they tried to stop his approach towards their goal line. Marshall turned to the scoreboard and saw the timer: only twenty second left on the clock. He saw Quinton with the ball, about to be tackled by a particularly large and aggressive UFS flyhalf.
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