{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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B R E N
Three heavy knocks and Madie still hadn't opened her door.
About a week had passed since the incident at The Grounds.
Midterms had come and gone, but I hadn't seen Madie since that day. She wouldn't even respond to my texts. She wouldn't come to tutoring. She wouldn't come to the fields with me. She'd disappeared.
"Madie," I said, just loud enough that I was sure she could hear me through the door. "Madie, I know you're in there."
Commotion came from inside the room, and I held my breath. The door opened slowly, but the effect that Madie had on me was instantaneous. My stomach dropped at seeing her—my sunny girl overwhelmed by a gray cloud.
Her expression was flat as her face peeked around the door. Strands of strawberry-blonde hair fell into her face as they escaped one of the messiest buns I'd ever seen. Her beauty hadn't faded, but her brightness had.
"Bren?" She seemed surprised to see me, and for some reason, that bothered me. Didn't she realize that her friends were worried about her?
"Nessa told me you'd be here," I said by way of explanation, not waiting for an invitation to step into her room. Again, she looked taken aback. But I was done doing this dance of pretending not to care and staying surface-level with this girl.
"What's up?" she asked, uncertain.
"I'm concerned. About you."
Her eyes flared wide before she closed the door behind me and retreated into her room, sitting on the bed.
"You haven't come to The Grounds or tutoring. And you won't reply to my texts," I added, in case she needed further evidence for my concern.
"I'm just busy, Bren."
She looked away from me.
"Busy with what?"
Madie bit her lip, but she didn't respond. Her options were to brush me off or tell the truth, and I could tell she didn't want to do either. So she stayed silent.
Honestly, in a way, it was progress.
I walked Nessa's side of the room as I waited, flipping through her basket of vinyls for one that she'd brought into work the other day. When I first heard it, all I could think of was Madie. There was just something about it. Mellow but bright. A melody you felt in your bones.
Finding the one I wanted, I placed it on Nessa's cheap little turntable, fully intending to find my own copy of the album later. My collection of vinyls was small, and I liked to keep it that way. But I needed this record.
I Should Have Known Better began playing, Sufjan Stevens' soft voice floating into the room.
And then I turned back to Madie and repeated my question.
