{18+ COMPLETED • COLLEGE ROMANCE}
When a college freshman with a learning disability and a reputation collides with a straight-A, straight-laced girl in the dorm kitchen one night, he sees the darkest parts of himself reflected in her. But the two o...
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M A D I E
September Sixteenth
One
Isn't it funny?
Isn't it funny how quickly you can go from feeling valued
to feeling like you're not wanted anywhere?
—
Quinton opened the door almost immediately, smiling at the sight of me.
"Hey, baby," he murmured, leaning in for a quick peck on the lips.
"Hey," I said, slightly breathless from my walk back to the dorms. "What's up?"
Quinton had the bluest eyes, and right now, they were vibrant as he grinned down at me. A little bit of nostalgia attracted me to his gaze, reminding me of home. My past was in those eyes. So many moments of my life that I'd watched go by, and he'd watched them too.
Quin had always been there.
"I just missed you," he said, wrapping me into his arms.
I laughed into his chest, breathing in the clean scent of his aftershave. He wasted no time, pulling me into a room plastered with Oakland State football decor.
Hopping onto Quinton's bed, I said hi to his roommate, Max, who was too busy playing video games in the far corner to really notice me. Max was also on the football team, and Quinton really hit it off with him. It was nice that Quin had made so many good friends already.
I hadn't brought a purse to the party earlier, so I threw my keys and phone on Quinton's bed next to me and turned to face him.
"I missed you too," I replied, meaning it. I'd been worried that he was still annoyed with me.
Quinton sauntered over, wearing his low-riding sweatpants and a simple black tee. His bed was raised so that it could fit storage beneath it, and he leaned against the mattress, positioning himself between my dangling legs. I found myself staring in the handsome face of my boyfriend, wondering how I'd gotten so lucky.
Well, it wasn't completely luck.
Freshman year of high school, Quinton wandered into my English class. Despite the lengthy Shakespeare monologues and convoluted epic poems, that hour became the best part of my day. I relied on the little notes he'd pass me to boost my grumpy teenage mood.
By the time the second semester rolled around, Quinton had somehow sweet-talked our teacher into letting us sit together, and we'd been dating ever since.
Quin had always been good at that—sweet-talking.
He cupped my face, tilting it just a little. "I'm sorry I was so grumpy earlier, Mads," he mumbled.
