{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
October Twenty-Seventh
Five
"She went and stood at an open light window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below.
All of the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage.
She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet, half-darkness which met her moods."
-The Awakening, Kate Chopin
—
"Bren, what are your demons?" I whispered.
I'd bared my soul to this boy, and now I wanted to know his. We'd already dived deep into unknown territory—which I honestly wasn't letting myself think about at the moment—and I didn't think there was any going back.
He rested beside me, wearing my Highland High School soccer sweatshirt and loose black shorts. Soft music played in the background. Bren had tossed one of Nessa's records on her turntable before crawling in next to me. I recognized the melody, but I couldn't place it. It was soothing, though.
He was soothing. He was...God. I didn't have words to describe Bren Hadaway. But I knew there was no denying my attraction to him any longer, no denying the intensity of my feelings when I'd seen him walk into my room earlier. I'd acted with abandon, but I didn't regret it yet.
I knew I would.
His eyes were on the ceiling, but Bren was listening. I stared up as well. To be honest, I could nearly imagine there were a thousand stars above us, and we were far from this place. Because that was how magic worked, right?
I thought he wasn't going to answer. But then he said, "I watched my parents die."
My breath extinguished, and the air between us stilled. Bren said the words so quietly, so softly, but his expression was hard. I didn't see grief or sadness, but I saw acute loss and real pain. Part of me understood, and the other part of me broke for him.
He whispered again into the darkness. "I was sixteen and pretty alone. I didn't have a lot of friends because we moved a lot growing up. I knew a lot of people, but not a lot of people knew me. I played soccer, of course, and sometimes I hung out with the guys from the team. But it wasn't the same thing as having true friends."
He paused. I didn't want to interrupt, didn't want him to stop talking.
"I think some people thought I was weird. You know, being that kid with dead parents and in special ed classes. But even though I wasn't the smartest, I think I knew more than any of them. I think I know more than a lot of people, honestly."
