Three

Crisp air from the late afternoon mountain breeze caresses my skin as I walk down the sidewalk leading to the parking lot. It’s cooler than it was the last time I was outside which was several hours ago. I wrap my arms around me and run my hands down my arms. The yellowing leaves of the tall aspens, towering amidst the pines in the courtyard, flutter as the gentle breeze rolls through them. The aroma of pine is heavy.

I take in the sights as I make my way through the courtyard. Just above the mountains, large, billowy clouds are forming, threatening a late afternoon rain shower. A few students are scattered throughout the courtyard enjoying each other’s company and the beautiful weather. I glance towards the lake where several others are gathering around it, sitting on large blankets, and soaking up what’s left of the late afternoon sun.

I finally reach the parking lot. From the looks of it, most of the residents must be on campus because there aren’t many open spots.

The sound of loose gravel crunches under my feet as I walk down the row that I am parked on. The vehicles in this lot are mostly luxury vehicles, which shouldn’t be that surprising considering what I’ve seen from this place today. There are svelte sports cars with their sleek bodies and impeccable interiors, there are SUVs�"that I wouldn’t dare drive off-road for fear of putting a single mark on a car like that, and there are trucks of all sizes with lifts and various modifications for off-roading.

Then there’s my Jeep, which stands out like a sore thumb.

My Uncle Ollie surprised me with my car on my seventeenth birthday. He scrimped and saved just enough money throughout the years to purchase a used, but still in great condition, Jeep for me.

My Jeep is a white, two-door, convertible SUV. Its black cloth interior is worn and faded in a few places, but I don’t mind. It adds to the character. It’s sporty and easy to drive and its off-road tires and four-wheel drive make it the perfect vehicle for my new home.

As I near the back of my Jeep, I can’t help but smile. I forgot about the small decal Ollie stuck on the bottom of the back window. It is a white Stag with the ASU acronym scripted beneath it.

I think about the fact that I haven’t heard from him yet and decide to text him. He should be near Santa Fe, if not already there.

I slide my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts and snap a picture of the decal.

Thanks again for this! It’s perfect!

I hit send and open the rear door of my Jeep as I wait for his reply.

I take extreme caution not to hit the enormous black Ford truck that is taking up the space to the right of me, barely leaving any room between it and my Jeep. 

I do a double-take.

I’m a small-town girl, I have a thing for trucks, and this one is nice. It’s completely blacked out, sits up high on oversized off-road tires, and screams raw power.

Just as I begin to grab the large bag containing the last of my bedding, I get Uncle Oliver’s reply.

Glad U like it! Getting into traffic. Text U later.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and grab the bag, my laptop case, and my pillow from the back of my Jeep and slam the door.

As I walk back through the parking lot, I pray that I don’t run into him before I get back to my room. I don’t think I can handle any more of him today. It’s all way too strange.

A tiny tingle traces my spine.

No, no, no. Not again.

I’m sure I brought this on myself. I curse myself for even thinking about him.

Frantically, I scan my surroundings for any sign of Mr. TDH, but I don’t see him.

I place my hands on my head, close my eyes, and breathe in deeply.

Midnight eyes stare back at me.

Get a grip, Cailan.

My heart pounds in my chest. I swallow hard against the rising panic and try to settle myself down. I force my eyes open, overly aware of my surroundings. I don’t hear or see anything unusual. Just the soft hum of conversations taking place around me.

I head towards the courtyard and meet a few people along the way, but none of them are him.

The hum of conversations comes to a hush as quietness falls over me. The gentle breeze glides to a stop. The sound of my steps crunching across the gravel is deafening. Everything is still.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The elevator doors open as a wave of relief washes over me. I made it all the way back to my floor without running into Mr. TDH. Picking up the large bag of bedding and adjusting the laptop case’s strap on my shoulder, I exit the elevator. I quickly survey the area, just to make sure, and quicken my pace down the black and white marble floor towards my room.

I reach the door to my suite and nervously fumble with the keys on the lanyard I have around my neck. I nearly drop everything I’m carrying but I manage to get the key in the lock.

The door swings open before I can even finish turning the key. I’m thrown into girl standing on the other side.

“Cailan! You’re Cailan, right?! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Her voice is bright and bubbly as she pulls me in for a hug.

I’m caught off guard by her welcome. Still embraced in the hug I say, “It’s nice…to meet… you, too.” The words choke out of me, she’s squeezing me so tightly.

“Oh, sorry!” Realizing my difficulty, she quickly releases the embrace.

She steps back and sticks out a perfectly manicured hand.

Her words tumble out of her. “I’m Catriona Brown, but everyone calls me Cat, I’m your roommate!”

I can’t help but to smile from ear to ear as she speaks, her perky personality is infectious.

“Here, let me help you with that,” she says, grabbing the bag containing my bedding. “Come on in here! I can’t wait to get to know you!”

Cat seems very friendly. I already like her. Maybe this roommate thing won’t be so bad after all.

She leads us to my room, practically bouncing the entire way.

She swings my door open with a feline grace and tosses the bag she’s carrying on the bed. Her bewitching amber eyes roam my room. The stunning smile never leaving her perfect face.

I watch her, silently, as she makes her way over to my bookcase and meticulously reads through the titles.

It’s not often that I meet girls that are taller than myself, but Cat’s at least five foot-ten. And she is gorgeous. Her staggering beauty could rival any supermodel, and I mean any of them. Her long, black hair cascades in waves over the low-cut and formfitting simple black tee she’s wearing. I can see what looks like streaks of purple, reminiscent of a twilight sky, running throughout her silken waves. Her seemingly endless legs are clad in skin-tight white denim jeans. She’s wearing black leather flats with elegant pointed toes.

Her perfectly manicured and polished fingers softly trace the spines of my books and come before coming to a rest. “Oh my god! I love this book! I can already tell we’re going to be great friends,” she exclaims as she pulls Wuthering Heights from its home on the shelf.

I return her vibrant smile with my own.

“It’s hard not love the younger Heathcliff,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Sweetie, I love you already,” she coos, returning the book to its rightful place and picking up another.

Naturally observant by nature, I take the opportunity to study Cat a bit more as she reads the back cover of the book.

On top of her perfect figure and exquisite fashion sense, her eyes are also very striking. Their feline shape and unique amber color, with light golden rings around the pupils, are unrivaled by anything I’ve seen before. She has them rimmed with thick lines of kohl and mascara. The amber glows in stark contrast to the kohl.

Images of starlit, midnight eyes flash in my mind as I stare, fascinated by the golden rings orbiting her pupils.

I feel that I’m heading down a very dangerous path and shove the thoughts out of my mind. I quickly think of something, anything, to say to Cat.

“What’s your major?” I take a seat on the end of my unmade bed.

“English lit,” she replies, sliding the book back into its place. A knowing grin spreads across her face. “Yours too, huh?”

A sly smile spreads on my lips, “How’d you know?”

“Well…One, the amount of books you’ve brought with you is a dead giveaway. And two, the university typically places students together who share the same major, they think it helps build a community of support.” She recites the last words as if she’s memorized them from some university brochure.

“I can help you if you want,” she offers, pointing a sparkling pink nail towards the bag filled with my bedding.

“That’d be great.” I smile genuinely at her. “Thank you.”

I really do like Cat. Considering she’s the exact opposite of me, she’s got that endearing, best friend quality that I just can’t help but enjoy. For a moment, I allow myself to contemplate what it will be like to have a friend here to depend on. I’ve never really allowed anyone to get very close to me. I’m not sure I even know how, but I smile at the possibility of sharing a true friendship with somebody.

“I take it you’re not a freshman?” I ask her as we work to unfold the fitted sheet.

“I’m a sophomore�"so if you ever need help with any of your classes, if they’re ones I’ve already taken, I’ll help you in any way that I can,” her words are sincere and friendly.

“Thanks, Cat, for everything. I’ve only known you for maybe fifteen minutes, but I can tell we’re going to be great friends. I’m glad you’re roommate.” My words sing with a truth and a promise of friendship.

“I’m glad, too,” she softly replies with her seemingly never faltering smile. Her amber eyes gleam in the filtered, late afternoon, mountain sunlight.

We finish making my bed, which doesn’t take long. The ivory sheets and deep amethyst quilt prove to match flawlessly with the plush cream carpet and stately decor of the room. I smile, taking a look around. It is beautiful in its simple elegance and it kind of feels like home.

Cat steps back from the bed to see the final product.

“I love it,” she purrs, resting her hands on her slender hips. “In fact, if you wanna come with me to my room, I think I have the perfect blanket for your color scheme. I’d love for you to have it.” Her burnt gold eyes watch mine, hopeful, radiating as she waits for my response.

“I’d love to see it, Cat. But I’d feel really bad taking it from you,” I reply. And I would. I’ve never been one for handouts and I don’t want to begin now.

“Don’t be silly, Cailan!”  She huffs, her eyes lighten with her mood. “What’s mine is yours. Really. Besides, I’m an excellent judge of character and I can already tell that you’re the best!”

Her bright white smile reaches her eyes as she swings her arm around my shoulder, leading the way through the bathroom and into her room.

My curiosity got the best of me earlier and I had ventured into her room for a moment when Uncle Ollie was here. But I didn’t pay attention to much of the details other than the overall pinkness of it. 

And pink it is.

The room is a twin layout to mine�"with a queen size bed, desk, bookcase, walk-in closet, dresser, and plush leather chair. But that’s where the similarities end and Cat’s vision begins.

“It’s in my closet,” she says, striding to the door. “Make yourself at home. Look around if you want, or have a seat wherever,” she spreads her lean, yet surprisingly strong, arms out and spins in a circle before twirling into the abyss of her closet.

I was in and out earlier and didn’t get the full experience of what being Cat really means, so I take the opportunity to look around while she searches for the blanket. The majority of her cream-colored carpet is covered by lush rugs in varying shades of pinks and roses. I cross a large rose-pink colored shag rug and make my way to her bookcase.

The quickest way to learn about a person is to know their reading preferences. After all, you are what you read. Quickly scanning the titles she has neatly arranged on the shelves, I see that we share many similar tastes. She has titles ranging from Bronte and Hardy to King and Stoker and everything in-between. On the top shelf, I notice that she has arranged copies of what must be her favorites�"Shakespeare and Hemingway and Poe and Lee, between two crown shaped bookends.

I smile a little to myself. My chest swells at the thought of a kindred soul. A memory of a conversation with my mom plays through my mind. Ten-year old me, sitting on the weathered stone bench in our small garden next to her, under the star dusted New Mexico sky, the warmth of the desert summer night on our skin, as she soothes the pain brimming in me from the broken trust of a friendship�"telling me I will find my place one day.

The sound of Cat rummaging around in her closet returns me to the present. Row upon row of shoes rest on the floor just beyond her closet door.

“It’s in here somewhere,” her voice sounds like a muffled cry.

I move closer to her closet as the thick fluff of a fuzzy, hot pink rug tickles my ankles, and peer inside.

Wow.

Cat’s closet rivals any mall or department store I’ve ever seen. Every rod is stuffed with clothing�"from basic t-shirts to ultra-glam evening dresses, shimmers of sequins and glitter throughout. Every shelf is line with designer bags, the scent of leather hangs in the air. I dare not touch anything for fear of tainting it in some way.

Cat is in the back corner, sorting through a pile of disheveled blankets and sheets on a shelf.

“Got it!” Her voice is giddy with excitement as she turns to hand me the blanket. Its thick, plush velvet is a deep shade of eggplant.

The idea of taking this from Cat unsettles me. It’s too much.

“Cat, this so, so sweet of you, but I just can’t take this,” I plead, running my fingers across the creamy velvet. “I would hate myself if I ruin it and I could never repay you should something happen to it.”

Her beautiful, hopeful amber eyes watch mine.

“Cailan, please just take it,” she begs, pushing the blanket into my hands. “I want you to have it. Really. Don’t worry about repaying me and don’t worry about something happening to it, it’s yours to keep.”

Her offer has left me with a complete loss of words. I had subconsciously prepared myself for the roommate from hell. But the girl standing in front of me, offering this gift, is anything but that. After all of the years of being a loner, of being perfectly content finding friends in books rather than real life, I find myself standing in front of this beautiful girl and feeling like I can’t imagine a world without her in it. Emotions begin to seep over the edges of my covers I worked so hard to close earlier.

“Cat,” her name chokes out of me. “This is the sweetest thing a friend has ever done for me. I�"I don’t even know what else to say, I’m not really used to having friends who do things like this for each other, so thank you.” A genuine smile forms easily on my lips.

Hugging my neck Cat says, “You’re welcome, sweetie.” Her voice is melodic and gentle.

Cat gracefully strides towards the end of her bed and plops down. She looks up at me, her rich eyes are radiant, the gold in them shining brightly.

She picks up one of the many pink throw pillows neatly arranged across the head of her bed and hugs it tightly to her chest. “Cailan, I don’t have any siblings and I really don’t have that many close friends.” She curls her legs up underneath her, making herself appear a little more delicate and focuses on a spot on the ground. “I have a hard time with trust. I guess it’s because I feel like I’m pretty good at reading others, and most people just aren’t sincere in their words and actions�"at least not with me.” She looks back up at me, her amber eyes sparkling, a smile spreading on her face. “But you’re different.”

A lump builds at the base of my throat. I swallow hard against it, willing myself to not fall apart in front of her.

“Cai,” my voice is nearly a whisper. “You can call me Cai�"it’s what most people call me,” I say, taking a seat next to her. I sink into the fluffy down comforter. “And I’m also an only child.” I pause for a moment before sharing more of my pages with her and stare down at my hands. “I went to live with my uncle when I was ten. My mom died in a terrible car accident from a drunk driver, and I’ve never know my real father.” The words rush out of me as if the faster I speak them the less they will hurt. “I have a very hard time opening up to others and I’ve never really had anyone I would consider a true friend.” I stop talking before I shatter from the pain of the memories.

I suck in a breath, wishing I were stronger. Wishing I had my mom to talk to one last time. I gently hold the turquoise stone of my necklace between my fingers, letting its smooth texture soothe me.

Cat reaches over and takes my other hand gently in hers. Tears of gold glisten across her eyes.

“Oh, Cai. I can’t even pretend to understand what it feels like to lose someone you love like that, but I want you to know I’m here for you. If you ever want to talk, or not talk, I’m here. I’ll listen or I’ll just sit in silence with you, but I’ll be here�"always.” Her words are real, not laced with even a hint of insincerity.

Some moments speak for themselves.

I place my other hand on tops of hers and gently squeeze, my porcelain skin in stark contrast to her smooth, bronze tan.

“Ah, look at me all teary eyed,” she says, wiping away tears that threaten to spill over her kohl lined lids.

“It’s ok,” I say, smiling back at her. “I never cry. I’ve spent years perfecting the ability to not cry, and it’s already happened twice today. I convinced myself that I cried all my tears out the first few years after my mom died�"I didn’t think it was possible for me to cry anymore. Turns out I’m wrong,” I say shrugging my shoulders and offering a small giggle.

“Oh, Cai,” she says, her voice soft and melodic as she reaches out and tucks an untamed layer of my hair behind my ear, a look of happiness on her face despite a few tears.

“What do you say I show you around a bit? Give you the grand tour of ASU, give our emotions a break,” she asks, bouncing up from her seat.

“Yes, please.” The words rush out of me. A demand. A plea.

“Good deal,” she replies, pulling me up from my seat to stand next to her, her bright smile reaching her eyes. “Let’s start with dinner, I’m famished!” She places her hands across her waist with emphasis.

Realizing that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, I immediately agree.

Cat leads us out to the main room and we each grab our keys from the glass-topped coffee table. I quickly grab my navy and forest green plaid flannel shirt, that I had hung over the back of a bar stool earlier, and throw it on over my grey tank.

As she’s heading out the door, Cat turns to me. “Please tell me you’re not one of those girls who never eats?” Her voice was tinged with a slight sarcasm.

I can’t help but to laugh at her question. “Let’s just say there aren’t many food groups that I’ll walk away from. Food is always the answer.” Cat huffs a laugh at my response.

“A girl after my own heart.” Cat’s reply is full of approval as her grin spreads from ear to ear, showing off her pearly white and perfectly polished teeth.

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

The mirrored doors of the elevator slide open. We make our way side-by-side across the elegant lobby of Wheeler Hall, towards the entrance to the dining hall.

The Market serves both Wheeler and Walter, however all students and faculty are allowed to eat there. It is the only true dining hall on campus, the other dorms having smaller quick stops, and is laid out in a food court style, with a large dining area furnished with tables and chairs made of rich wood, and booths nestled between the floor to ceiling windows, giving way to the picturesque courtyard. Just beyond the courtyard stand a few of the stately, gothic style buildings on campus, including the English building and library. Of course, as with every view here, the mountains provide the beautiful backdrop.

There’s not a single area of this place that doesn’t scream opulence and luxury. I’ve can’t even begin to wrap my mind around the fact that this is where I live now.

I grew up believing the stories from so many about how no one ever truly makes it out of Mesa, how even if you are fortunate enough to leave, that you always end up coming back. The town of Mesa is like an ominous black hole. Just when you think you’re out and leaving it all behind, it sucks you right back in faster than the speed of light. I want to be the one who breaks the mold, the one who burns brighter than the curse of Mesa.

The majority of Mesa rivals any ghost town with its dilapidated and abandoned buildings and houses. To move from that to this, just doesn’t seem fathomable. But here I am, proof that hard work can get you out of Mesa. Now, I just have to make sure I do everything in my power to keep it that way. Defeat is not a belief of mine.

“This way,” Cat says as she leads us through the dining area and towards the food court. “What do ya feel like? They have everything you could possibly want.” Her eyes roam from station to station.

We step into the food court as the most delicious smell of foods of all sorts devours my senses. My stomach grumbles in response. At this point, I’m so hungry I could eat just about anything and be perfectly content.

“Umm…What’s good,” I ask as I read the names on the signs and banners above each station. There are stations ranging from Italian to Asian and everything between.

She faces me with a bright smile on her face. “It’s all good. But, my absolute favorite thing to get is a panini from the deli,” she says, pointing to the deli station on the far, left side of The Market. “They are warm and cheesy and absolutely to die for.”

“Mmm, sounds perfect. Let’s do that,” I say as I begin heading towards the deli.

Several students are in here, standing at the various counters ordering food. I look back, just past the registers, towards the expanse of the dining area, and see that there are a handful of tables and booths taken up by students enjoying their meals or chatting with others. But it is nowhere near capacity. Despite the size and the amenities of The Market, I wonder if it is ever really full because the student population of ASU is pretty small. 

As we near the deli, every cell in my body suddenly tenses with apprehension. A tiny spark tingles at the base of my spine, slowly creeping its way higher and higher. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

He’s here.

I clench my fists and try to keep my cool in front of Cat as the nervous tension flies through my veins and settles in my stomach, knotting and twisting. Every one of my senses are firing their warnings. I want to run, but I can’t.

Why does my body demand betrayal of my mind?

That’s him.

Oh, god.

Cat gets in line directly behind Mr. TDH. I reluctantly force myself to follow her. I shift my body and try to conceal myself behind Cat. If he doesn’t already know I’m here, I’d rather stay under the radar for as long as possible. The thought of another run-in similar to the last two is almost unbearable.

Everything in my body is a spiraling conundrum of tension and desire, of apprehension and curiosity.

I can’t help but to peer over Cat’s shoulder and watch his every move. His long, lean legs are clad in well-worn, black denim jeans that are rolled just above the tops of his scuffed black combat boots. My eyes roam freely and helplessly up his back. The darkly inked edge of a second tattoo rests at the base of his neck, peeking out from just above the back of his collar. My eyes slowly wander back down the length of his lean yet powerful body. Even though he is just standing in line, I can tell that he’s tense. The powerful muscles under his sun-kissed skin are taut. He’s clenched his fists at his sides. A midnight air of displeasure radiates off of him.

Is it because you know I’m here?

I kick the question from my head. He hasn’t seen me. I’m obviously mental.

As I begin to contemplate going to another station, or just not eating at all, Cat taps him on the shoulder.

“Hey, you!” Her voice is filled with sweet excitement.

She knows him.

His body stills for a quick moment before he spins to look at her. I freeze, eyes wide open, unsure of what to do, what to say, or if I should even dare breathe.

He smiles a big, sparkling smile at her. “Hey, Cat! Long time no see!” His voice is silvery and charming�"a fry cry from the commanding tenor of earlier today.

He wraps his powerful arms around her, embracing tightly.

Just before they break apart, his midnight eyes find mine. My stomach clenches tightly against the knot twisting inside of it. My pulse quickens as fire laces my blood and burns throughout my veins. I can feel my complexion flushing from the heat.

It’s really hot in here.

Cat, beaming with joy, pulls away from his embrace and turns to face me as his eyes refuse to leave mine. 

“Brayan, this is Cailan, she’s my new roommate,” she says fondly, motioning towards me.

Brayan.

His name. I finally know his name. I barely hear the rest of what she’s saying.

“Cai, this is Brayan, he’s a good friend of mine. He’s a junior and an English lit major, just like us! So that’s something we all have in common.” She’s practically bouncing up and down from excitement as she speaks. Her bright smile beams from ear to ear.

My mind frantically tries to make sense of her words as she speaks.

English lit. We have the same major. We have THE SAME major. Which means that I will be seeing a lot of him. Oh, god.

My brain is in overdrive as we stand in completely glorious, awkward silence for what seems like ages.  I know that I need to stay away from this guy, or Brayan as I’ve now learned, but the universe seems to think differently.

I realize that I can’t bolt now; it’s too late. I swallow down the panic pushing its way up my chest and pray that I can play it cool. Or at least try to.

Cat glances back and forth between us. Unsure of how to read the situation, her smile begins to fade. I make the first move and stick my hand out to shake his, figuring it’s always better to be brave than to be a coward, and ready myself for what I know is coming.

Surprisingly, he accepts my offer and takes my hand firmly in his. I can feel the rough texture of calluses across his large palm. His long, deft fingers completely enclose my hand. My body goes rigid. A thousand tiny sparks ignite at every point of contact between our hands. A gentle warmth lazily traces its way through my delicate veins, gradually leading up my arm. Suddenly it speeds up, cascading throughout my warring body and cradling my fragile bones�"calming my nerves and soothing my panic; caressing my frayed pages.

“Hi Cailan, it’s nice to meet you,” he says smoothly, still holding my hand. The edge of his prefect lip turns up, though he doesn’t smile.

I stare at him in disbelief. In disbelief of the feeling, disbelief of his act, disbelief of him. It’s nice to meet you? We’ve already met. Why are you doing this?

He shakes my hand once and then quickly releases it. The soothing warmth instantly fades away to nothing.

Play it cool, Cailan.

I do my best to calmly force words from my mouth. “It’s�"It’s nice to meet you too, Brayan.” His name rolls softly off my lips despite my growing displeasure. “But, we’ve�",”

“Well, I hope you ladies enjoy your meal. See you around, Cat,” he says assertively, cutting me off mid-sentence. Grabbing his sandwich and not looking back, he quickly strides away towards the registers. 

What the hell?

Cold rage simmers beneath my skin as a thousand more questions pile up. Why did he just act like he’s never seen me before? What kind of person does this? What was that feeling?

Cat is still standing right next to me, watching me, as I try to regain my composure.

“Well, um, Brayan seems…friendly,” I manage as I struggle to find the word to complete that sentence.

She puts her hands on her hips. Her amber eyes narrow slightly, making them appear very feline.

“He is nice, once you get to know him,” a small smile forms on her lips. “He’s a tough cookie to crack and a bit of a loner at times. But beneath it all, he’s a really good person.” She shrugs, “You just have to be willing to put in the work necessary to peel back all of his layers.” She places a hand on my shoulder, “Look, it’s no question that he has lots of girls throwing themselves at him, I mean just look at him�"but he hates that. He just likes people who see him for who he really is. I mean, can you blame him for not being super stoked about another girl on the list? Just give him time, and give him a chance�"he may surprise you. And I know you’ll surprise him.” Her eyes search mine, the golden circles around her pupils sparkle in the light from The Market.

I nod at Cat and force a half smile.

Give Brayan a chance. How can I give him a chance when he’s obviously hated me from the first second that he saw me? And the fact that he pretended to have never met me? Please.

 My thoughts turn into midnight eyes as the memory of the soothing warmth of his touch plays through my mind.