Campus Crush novel Chapter 2

I didn't bring my entire house with me like some others visibly did, but I did have a lot to remind me of home.

"I'm on the fourth floor," I informed my Dad as he lifted my suitcase with my help, putting it into the large carts that were provided for the incoming residents.

He also helped me get the mini-fridge inside the cart and extra things that I brought along then we rolled the cart into the tall building. We made it onto the elevator, to the 4th floor, and to my room.

"This is it, Cas," my father declared. "You're in college."

I didn't respond to him, instead I thrust my key into the hole and struggled to open it. I was so not doing the 'you're-an-adult now' talk.

Once I did succeed in opening the lock I walked through the door and scanned the room.

As expected, it was blank and bland. There were two beds right across from each other on opposite sides of the room and against the walls. Also as expected, there were only mattresses on them, waiting to be made up.

"Your roommate's coming later on, right?"

"Right." We unloaded the cart and I sighed. "I'll take it from here, I guess."

"You didn't say your goodbyes to your mom and Dawson."

"I swore they were right behind us." I stepped out the room to look down the hall and saw my mom and brother rushing to catch up.

Of course, in those heels, Mom wasn't doing a very good job.

"Don't shut the door sweetie!" She called out.

Dawson had a dejected expression on his chubby face. I walked over to him and he just hugged me silently, his face buried in my chest.

I stroked his hair in a soothing manner before he let go, the pout returning to his clear-skinned face. "I hate you," he falsely claimed.

I chuckled. "Love you too, Dawson."

My mother caught up to us and squeezed me real tight. "I love you, my little grown man!"

The thought made me smile. I might actually have a chance at a real friend. I never had someone close or true.

Funny, at that thought, I heard a cacophony of voices nearing my door and something heavy being rolled. I figured it was him so I quickly shoved my empty suitcase under my bed right before I heard the knob shaking a little.

I held my breath, my heart beat accelerating and a rush of color swirling through my cheeks. This reaction was very typical of an introvert like me, so I totally expected it.

The door opened and I stood, frozen and rooted in the dead center of the small room, as he walked in.

Our eyes locked and I could feel my palms start to sweat and tremble ever so subtly. In the next two, barely three seconds, we assessed each other.

His hair was just as perfect as it had been in all of his social media pictures - probably better in person. It was brown and windswept, and from the looks of it, very silky. His eyes were small, fierce, and blue with a silver tint to them, and they glistened, as if he'd just seen something very marvelous. His lips were pink and lush, and his jaw was chiseled. He was art. Just like his photos.

Yes, it took two to three measly seconds for me to take that all into account.

But I was afraid he didn't like what he was seeing.