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"You look like death," Britt comments as I walk over to her, my jacket handing off my shoulders and my hair a mess.
Britt was my best friend. She had been for half of my life at least—maths isn't my strong suit. She was much cooler than me, more of a social butterfly. Well, it wasn't that I hated socialising, I'm very sarcastic so people tend to not like me.
"That's because I feel like death," I say to her and I notice the guy standing opposite her. He was handsome, definitely. He had a sharp jawline, dirty blonde hair and a muscular build. "And you are? You look like a Stephen but you also look like a Fred. Am I close?"
"I'm actually James," he introduced himself. "I'm Britt's roommate. We actually went to the same school, remember? James McVey?"
"Oh, you're the jock," I nod slowly, looking him up and down. "Surprised you managed to get a place here, most of the guys on the football team were a bit. . . stupid?"
"Surprised you managed to get a place too, considering all of the teachers hated you and you got suspended from school, what? Three times?" He quips back and I raise my eyebrows, surprised.
"Anyway," Britt rolls her eyes. "Who's your roommate? Boy? Girl? Both?"
"Guy," I inform her. "This arse called Brad. He was so rude the moment he opened the door—if my mum was there, she'd be scared for her life."
"That sounds fun," she laughs and James bids his goodbye to the both of us before disappearing. We were outside campus, now sat down on a bench by the grass where some boys kicked a football around to each other. "How'd your mum handle you leaving?"
"Better than I thought," I admit with a laugh. "She cried, sobbed, could've sworn she tried to grab my hand and drag me away from my room. But she let me stay, so it was handled well."
"As well as you can get for your mum."
We end up spending forty minutes outside, gossiping about people from our old school, when we're going to go shopping, classes and looking at hot guys, when our conversation comes to a halt.
"Oh my God."
"What?" Britt asks, following my gaze until she saw him to. "Holy crap, Margo."
"I think I'm going to shrivel into a ball and die now."
Standing there high and mighty in all his glory, was my long-term crush, Thomas Finch. He was a beautiful, tall boy with black hair a charming smile. He wasn't too muscly nor scrawny, he was perfect. And attending the same university as me.
"This is a good thing! Maybe over summer you've grown enough balls to talk to him," she cheers me on as he stands with his friends across the campus. "Maybe he's into you."
"I can't," I shake my head. "I can't speak more than five words to him. Ever. Literally."
It was true. Thomas was so sweet and talked to everyone, including me. However I struggled to talk to him because I was so lost in his beauty to think properly.
