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  “I think this will be good for you. Give you a chance to meet new friends,” Mom said.

  She never liked my high school friends. I had friends; I wasn’t a freak or anything. My close-knit group of six friends had been together since junior high, and consisted of three girls and three guys.

  I grew up in an upper-middle-class white suburb outside of Dallas and had the uncanny ability to remain invisible in a sea of people who looked nothing like me. I never quite fit in. I blamed it on my skin tone, ignoring my other strange quirks, like my aversion to silliness.

  I considered my high school experience normal, in the strictest sense of the word: normal activities, normal parties, and normal boyfriends. My girls and I even infiltrated the cool kids’ club occasionally. My junior year I had caught the attention of Matt Brennan. His popularity extended to me due to our relationship, and I held popular girl status by association until graduation.

  I got along with everyone, but I never fit in with anyone.

  Most of the African-American kids in my school stuck together, but I was an outcast because my boyfriend was white. I was different.

  “I guess we are here.” Mom parked in front of Broward Hall, my home for the next year. It appeared bigger than the photos. The red brick gave the place a European feel and was surrounded by a lush green campus; I smiled for the first time since leaving Texas as I watched the other students unpacking cars and scanning the campus with wide-eyed optimism. We were all thinking the same thing—welcome to our new world.

  For the first time in my life I felt a kinship with other kids. We arrived on campus with similar emotions; excited, but scared shitless. I grabbed a box and headed into the dorm. My mom and brother followed a few steps behind.

  With my dorm assignment in hand, I headed up the elevator to the fourth floor. I approached my room and voices spilled through the open door.

  “Did you see the cute tall guy with the curly brown hair?” A girl making her bed spoke to another girl sitting on the floor folding clothes.

  “Hello,” I said as I stepped into the room.

  “Oh, hey, you must be Carrington.” The blonde girl dropped her sheet and turned, while the other girl struggled to stand up.

  “I’m Melinda, and this is Jessica.” She held out her hand, but the box I was carrying prevented me from taking it. She giggled, grabbed the box, and handed it to Jessica. She put her arms around my shoulder and hugged me. The awkward maneuver made me giggle as I found myself eye level with her enormous chest. She stepped back, gathered her blonde hair into a ponytail, and went back to her bed.

  Jessica stood there with my box in her hand, but it seemed weird to take it back.

  “We put you over here. I hope that’s okay,” Jessica said. She spoke to me but stared at Melinda as if seeking her support.

  “Yeah, wherever is fine,” I said.

  Jessica set the box on my bed.

  “Carr, where do you want me to put this,” David asked as he walked in carrying my trunk.

  “At the end of the bed,” I said. He bent over to sit it down. His shirt rode up and as he stood up to adjust it, he found my roommates staring and salivating over him. The minuscule amount of flesh he exposed rendered my new roommates catatonic.

  “Hi girls,” he said and winked.

  “Hi, I’m Melinda.” She stepped up to him and extended her hand. My brother took it. Jessica stared.

  “David, these are my roommates.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Where do you go to school?” Melinda asked. She licked her lips and tossed her hair, and I watched my brother squirm.

  “I graduated college some years ago, but thanks for the compliment,” David said as he turned to me. “I’ll go get the rest of your stuff.”

  “Oh my God, he is gorgeous,” Melinda gushed as he walked out the door. “How old is he?”

  “Thirty.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Lawyer.”

  “Oh, wow, thirty’s not too old for me, right?”

  Jessica laughed at Melinda’s joke, but I turned to my side of the room and started to unpack, hoping they would get the hint and stop talking about my brother. I knew he was gorgeous; everyone knew he was gorgeous. He lived a charmed life and never experienced a moment of self-doubt or insecurity. I would hate him if he wasn’t such a great guy.

  I continued to unpack as I watched Melinda pull out a pair of six-inch stilettos. I admired her long toned legs as she tried them on. Jessica pulled her long wavy brown hair into a ponytail and winked at me as she stretched. Her perfect perky breasts seemed to increase two sizes with her graceful, sexy moves. I looked down at my average size breasts and my average length legs and panicked. How was I supposed to compete with them?

  I felt like background decorations all over again.

  Chapter Two

  Joshua Elijah Butler, IV

  In rehab, they preached the importance of establishing a routine. Do the same thing every day and develop positive habits to replace the bad ones. But they got it all wrong. The drug addiction wasn’t the bad habit; the habit of self-loathing and fear of not measuring up was much worse. When I was on drugs, those thoughts never entered my head.

  I figured I would attend class, work out and get back in shape, and participate in fraternity community programs—normal boring shit like that.

  I entered FSU as a freshman. I had stopped attending classes at U of F halfway through the first semester, so they threw out my record; it was as if I had never attended.

  When I arrived at FSU, my classes were already picked out courtesy of the Dean of Students: English, Calculus I, European History, and American Film. I laughed.

  Didn’t they realize I had a short attention span?

  I needed to find something else to entertain me and keep me sober.

  After my first class Monday morning, I headed to the student center, but something caught my attention, a laugh. Not a typical laugh, this one started as a sarcastic chuckle and increased in volume and vibrato. It was the best fake laugh I had ever heard. I knew because I recognized it. It was the type of laugh a person used when something wasn’t funny or when you wanted to pretend you got the joke. Hell, I’d used it five times today alone.

  I turned toward the laugh before it stopped and found the origin.

  She sat on the steps of Bellamy Building with four other girls. She tilted and nodded her head and listened, but her eyes darted around.

  I overheard some of their conversation.

  “But, his hands are so sexy,” said the tall blonde wearing too much eyeliner for a Monday morning.

  “Yeah, and his arms,” said another girl as she hit my girl’s leg. She nodded in agreement. The group hung on the blonde’s every word, everyone except my girl.

  I smiled at myself, claiming her as mine. I could tell we had a lot in common. Something about the way she sat off to the side and pretended to listen but seemed to be inside her own head. Her facial expressions didn’t match the other girls’, and when she caught herself daydreaming, she altered her expression. I stared at her for fifteen minutes undetected. She was used to being on the outside. I could tell by the way she moved and interacted in her surroundings.

  I needed to know this girl.

  Her head turned, and she caught me staring. I figured she would turn away, but she surprised me and held my gaze.

  She stared, and I stared back. When I moved my head, she moved hers in a mocking mirror dance. She licked her lips, and I reminded myself to breathe, and did the same. She smiled, and the atmosphere changed. It was the most amazing smile, and it brightened up her whole face.

  When I smiled back, her face glowed and the world faded away. I wanted to walk over and touch her light brown skin, caress her cheek and feel her soft, smooth skin. Her light brown eyes sparkled from across the quad. She pushed her perfect hair behind her perfect ears. I assumed her ears were perfect; I stood twenty feet away but had no doubt in my mind.

  He
r eyes cut away, and the spell broke. The blonde amazon called her, she stood up and I panicked.

  She walked backwards, followed the rest of her friends, but held her eyes on me. I hurried to memorize everything before she walked into the building. Her long legs and toned arms, her brown shoulder length hair with hints of gold, pulling the sunlight from the sky. Her nose, her mouth and chin, drew me to her. I wanted to cover her with kisses from head to toe and back again.

  Her coy demeanor amused my senses as my eyes traveled across her curvy frame. She carried herself with quiet confidence, moving in a way to get a guy’s attention—but not in an obvious way—and I liked to think that was only for me.

  “See you back at the dorm,” she said as the girls all went their separate ways. Her voice caused me to groan. Her sexy accent wasn’t from Florida but from somewhere in the South.

  When she turned away from me and walked towards the building, I got a chance to stare at the rest of her body and her ass, my new favorite body part.

  I watched her walk away. So transfixed, I missed it when she turned back until it was too late. My face blushed as she caught me checking her out, but she seemed to like it. She threw me another smile. Instead of lighting the world, it illuminated my heart. She winked as if satisfied in flooring me, then she turned and walked away.

  Her smile caught me off guard, and I forgot to follow her until it was too late. I reached the door and peeked inside. With over a hundred classrooms in the building, I contemplated searching each one until I found her, but I figured I would see her again.

  And when I did, I would not hesitate.

  Hopeful, I headed to class.

  ***

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  I sat in class, but my mind remained back on the quad, eyeing the cute guy with the intense eyes staring me down. His gaze confused me and made me uncomfortable, but at the same time, I wanted to see him again.

  I did not come to college to meet a man but hooking up seemed to be part of the curriculum.

  Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy hooking up as much as the next girl, but I prefer it within the confines of a relationship. In college, the definition of hooking up was indiscriminate sex with random people. I thought Matt and I had a healthy adolescent sex life, but maybe I was wrong.

  Being on the fringe in high school suited me fine. I preferred watching and listening to talking. I never sought out to be the center of attention, which frustrated my high school boyfriend to no end.

  Only a week into college and the similarities to high school annoy me, but today something happened.

  Melinda, Jessica, and I were sitting on the steps of Bellamy before class, and as usual, the conversation centered on boys. I pretended to listen, but my mind wandered, seeking something more exciting than their latest commentary on men at FSU, and I found it.

  I blinked and smiled when I saw the guy from across the quad staring at me. I tried to break contact, but something pulled my eyes to his. It was like he dared me to look away; we were in a competition, and although I had no clue what the prize was, I wanted to win.

  His big brown eyes bore into me. I tried to clear my mind, but those dark eyes read my thoughts, and I blushed. I tilted my head, and he mimicked my motion. I found it adorable. He leaned against the wall on his elbows with a content expression on his face as he watched me. His short sandy brown hair and clean-shaven face made him appear young, but not his eyes. His eyes looked old and kind of sad.

  I smiled at him, and he smiled back. How long would we sit here staring at each other before one of us looked away? Maybe he would work up the nerve to come and talk to me.

  The prospect of both made my heart rate increase.

  He wore an oversized black t-shirt, black cargo shorts, and black tennis shoes. The baggy clothes hid his size, but his biceps filled out his shirt fine. His pale skin made his brown eyes stand out. Every guy in Florida wore muscles and a tan like a uniform. I preferred tan, but my admirer’s skin made him unique. I liked that, too.

  As we continued our cross-campus stare-off, I studied subtle changes in his facial expressions. He went from shocked to content. His eyes smiled, and the angle of his head denoted a hint of lust, as his gaze scanned me up and down. As disappointment crossed his face, I heard Melinda call my name. Our little game was over.

  “Carr, are you coming to class or you going to sit here all day?”

  “Oh, um, yeah, I’m coming.” I gathered my bag, stood up, and swung it over my shoulder. I moved slow, backing up a few steps, not wanting our staring contest to end. He remained leaning up against the wall, making no attempt to approach. I shrugged, turned around, and went to class. When I reached the door, I looked back, and caught a hint of his face staring at me and smiled, but with all the other students entering the building, I lost him. I let out a heavy sigh and headed to class.

  After class, I half expected to see my mystery guy leaning against the wall in the quad in the same spot waiting for me to exit the building.

  “Carr, what’s wrong? You look like you’re waiting for someone,” Jessica said.

  “No. I’m fine. ”

  I followed her to the student union.

  “So, Carrington, we need to find you a guy!” We took a seat after grabbing lunch. In the last two weeks, Jessica and I never found ourselves alone together. In our room, Melinda kind of ruled the roost.

  “I don’t know,” I said and took a big bite of my sandwich hoping to avoid the follow-up questions.

  “What was your last boyfriend like? You dated him for two years, right?” Jessica asked.

  “Yeah, he was a jock. Wide receiver for our team.”

  “He any good?”

  “He got recruited by a lot of teams and went to UT Austin.”

  “I wasn’t talking about his playing skills,” Jessica insinuated.

  “Oh.” I blushed.

  “How did it end?”

  “We didn’t want to do the long distance things. We’re still friends.” I left out the part where, up until graduation, he thought I was following him to UT.

  I took out my phone and showed her a photo of Matt. His brown hair and dark eyes made him appear sexy and mysterious. He was neither of those things.

  “He’s really cute,” she said and passed my phone back. “You only date white guys?”

  I stared at her to make sure I understood her question or her intention behind the question.

  “I don’t only date white guys.” My eyes narrowed and I sat on my hands to stop fidgeting.

  Jessica frowned and fiddled with her earring. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious. Have you ever dated a black guy?”

  “Have you ever dated a black guy?” I countered.

  “I have. In fact, if I wasn’t so perfectly happy with my perfect boyfriend, I’d be all over those guys.” She nodded at a couple of tall muscular black guys walking into the student union. She smiled, and they smiled back. I shoved a piece of turkey in my mouth and waited for her to finish, praying the guys wouldn’t take her smile as an invitation.

  “Well, since you don’t care, I know a lot of guys from my boyfriend’s fraternity. I could set you up.”

  “I don’t know, Jess.” I shook my head. “I’m not looking for someone. I want to have fun.”

  “Okay, have fun, but it’s nice to have a go-to when needed.”

  Her whole body shook when she laughed. I joined in on the chuckle, even though I didn’t get the joke.

  Chapter Three

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  As the undisputed leader of our little three-person suite, Melinda declared Wednesday night Desperate Housewives night. I attempted to sneak out as everyone arrived.

  “Carrington, where are you going?” Melinda asked.

  I’d almost made a clean break.

  “I’m sorry, but I have study group on Wednesday nights.”

  “Oh, you’re going to miss all the fun.” She wrapped her arms around me and patted me on the head.
I turned as soon as she let me go.

  I liked my roommates, but all the togetherness made me claustrophobic. Tonight, I needed space.

  I headed to the library as the sun set. In September, the heat stayed in the air. The library A/C worked overtime, and I got into a habit of carrying a large sweater with me everywhere I went.

  I found an empty room near the back of the building—few people used this part of the library. I selected a table near the window and set my bag down.

  I had started unpacking my bag and organizing my stuff when he walked in.

  No, not him, but another him.

  He might be the quad guy’s exact opposite. For starters, he was tall and muscular. Not the bodybuilder type muscles, but more lean and athletic. I could bet he played football. He had short-cropped brown hair underneath a visor, which he wore backwards. His garnet t-shirt had Florida Athletic Department printed across the front. His shirt fit his muscular frame, but his baggy athletic shorts swung as he walked. He seemed surprised to see me but smiled and went to his seat.

  I watched him for a minute, but then went back to my book.

  Goosebumps popped out all over my body from the A/C being on full blast; I grabbed my sweater and pulled it on. At the same time, he pulled a sweatshirt out of his backpack and pulled it over his head. We both stopped and stared. He chuckled, which made me smile and giggle.

  “It gets crazy cold in here,” he said.

  “Yeah, I can’t image what the electricity bill must be like for this place.” I put my head down.

  I sounded like an idiot.

  “Yeah, but we’re paying for it, so I guess they don’t care.”

  “Right.” I stared at his beautiful smile, his perfect teeth, and his amazing full lips. His intimidating size contrasted with his kind, gentle, blue eyes.

  “My name’s Jackson Mitchell,” he stated as he stood up and walked over to the seat across from me.

  “Carrington Butler.”

  He held out his hand, and I admired his long fingers a second too long before taking it. I willed myself to stop sweating.