Grey: The Encounter (Spectrum Series Book 1) Page 2

  I shrug and nervously look around the truck, fiddling with my fingers in my lap. “I think I left my…phone…yes! My phone.” I smack my palm against my head and let out a whiny laugh. “Silly me. Looks like we really do have to turn back after all.”

  He laughs. “You’re nervous—I get it. I was too, when I left for college. I was sweating buckets and all, but once I got through the first week, the nerves slipped away. The same will happen for you, miss. I promise.”

  “How do you know?” My voice is small.

  “Because you’re a smart girl. You’ll adapt in no time,” he assures me with a grin.

  “Maybe you’re right…” I chew on my lower lip.

  “Trust me, miss, you’ll do great. And you could always call your parents if you need more assurance.”

  What makes you think they’d answer their phones if they couldn’t even bother to drop me off? I almost say it out loud, then scold myself for thinking something so silly and selfish. They’re out there doing their jobs; why would they stop just to baby me and drop me off to school? I need to get out and do what I planned—make them pleased with me. I won’t be able to do that if I cry like a little baby and cry to go home. No. I need to suck it up and get out of this car.

  “Miss Westerfield, are you all right?” Trevor asks.

  I smile widely. “Yes, thank you for your kind words, Trevor. But I just need to toughen up. I am eighteen, after all. I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “It doesn’t mean you’re acting like a baby, though—” he begins.

  “Thank you for the drive. I really have to go now.”

  He looks at me with a perplexed expression. He murmurs something under his breath I don’t quite catch, and I take it as my cue to exit the car.

  Retrieving both pieces of luggage, I close the trunk and walk up the length of the car. I wave goodbye to Trevor. He gives me a reluctant wave, and I wink before continuing to walk.

  The farther I go, the more I notice the crowd that resembles a sort of festival representing all that the college has to offer. Parents linger, hugging their children and blubbering about missing them already.

  My eyes stray from the emotional scenes, and I force myself to walk faster, weaving through a crowd of students sporting Penn State sweatshirts. There are tents with students welcoming newcomers and suggesting we join their clubs.

  I take a few pamphlets for the extra-curricular activities, like the Debate Club, the Mathematics Club, the Robotics Club, and the newspaper. I plan on eventually joining these clubs. After all, the more I have on my record, the better the faculty will view me, and that’s the most important thing.

  I exit the crowd and follow the signs to my assigned dormitory. Eastview Terrace Student Housing is gorgeous. The building itself is colossal, with luminous red bricks that have roses running along the walls, giving it a lovely, charming trait, accompanied by lush green shrubs. I walk along the clear path toward the main building.

  I’m greeted with air-conditioning as I walk through the automatic doors. It’s a refreshing difference compared to the mild heat outside. I join a short line leading to the main counter. When it’s my turn, I step back to let a woman and her daughter pass. I step forward and offer the girl with face piercings behind the counter a wide smile. She looks extremely uninterested as I introduce myself.

  “Hello, I’m Olivia Westerfield.”

  The redhead merely pops her pink bubblegum. “And I don’t care.” Another pop, and I flinch. She turns to an aging computer and quickly types on the creaking keyboard. A printer groans as it works.

  “Here’s your key. You lose it, you pay fifty dollars out of your pocket to replace it—” She twists up her face. “I suggest you don’t lose it; it’s a bitch to replace. And here is the map of the campus and the boarding room guidelines. Happy studying.” She flashes me a sarcastic grin.

  I chalk off her attitude as exhaustion. It must be tiring to sit behind a counter and deal with anxious, overprotective parents.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes with a pop! of her gum.

  I retrieve the items and walk away from the desk. Ahead is a common room that looks modern, with bright orange couches, pool tables, a flat-screen TV, and vending machines. Some students are splayed on the couches, talking, while others idly stand around the pool tables, laughing animatedly. Although it’s nice to see others having a splendid time so early, I notice one thing—boys. And lots of them.

  I turn around and walk back over to the counter, politely holding up a finger to a father and his son to signal I need a second with the girl behind the counter.

  “Excuse me, can I just ask a quick question?” I smile at her.

  She groans. “What do you want?”

  “Sorry, it’s just that I noticed there are a lot of…boys here. Isn’t this dorm supposed to house girls only?” I wouldn’t be able to function or focus if rowdy boys are having a party—or whatever boys do—down the hall, or even next door to me.

  “This dorm houses both genders. Duh. What, are you dumb or something?” she says, looking at me as if I’m incompetent.

  My mouth gapes open. “No, I just thought it was a girl-only kind of dorm…”

  “Well, you thought wrong. Next!”

  I step back and turn around, chewing nervously on my lip as I pass the common area. This is not what I had planned. Calm down, Olivia. Maybe it won’t even be that bad. I let out a breath as I follow a sign to the elevator.

  And as I pass a bathroom, it’s then that I realize something that nearly knocks the air straight out of me. I’ll have to use a…a co-bathroom…with boys! I’m starting to freak out. I’m hyperventilating in the elevator, my hands clasped together.

  I pace the width of the elevator. “Take a deep breath, Olivia,” I command myself. “You don’t need to freak out. You just didn’t see this coming, but you can get through this. You’ll figure it out.” I can feel my heart slow down to its normal pace.

  A smile grows on my face as the elevator comes to a stop. I exit with my luggage in tow behind me. Living here won’t be so bad; I keep chanting this in my head as I search for G21. The more I repeat it, the more it sinks in and settles my frantic nerves.

  I finally find the room after five minutes of wandering around. I stand at the door, sliding the key into the slot and twisting the golden knob.

  “Living here won’t be so bad. Living here won’t be so bad. Living here won’t be so—”

  I open the door and stop my chant. The first thing my eyes land on is a topless girl gripping the headboard above her head, while below, a girl has her head between her legs, a thin bed sheet barely covering their nude bodies.

  “Very bad.” I gulp.

  Chapter Three

  I try to speak, but no words can come out. All that escapes me is a pathetic squeal. I have no idea what to say because I’ve never been in a situation like…this before. I just smack a hand over my mouth and quickly back out of the room, crashing against the wall opposite of the door. I rub my head and wring out my hands, trying to assess what the cordial thing to do is.

  Not even an hour in college and I’m already dumbfounded by all the things I did not pencil into my planner. I didn’t pencil in discovering I’d be living among hormonal raging boys. And I definitely didn’t pencil in walking in on two girls doing…having…engaging in oral sex. I wish I can forget I ever saw it, but I don’t think that’s possible.

  But I do need to put it aside and address the matter, because I will be living here with one of those girls. Though I could just wait it out…no. I stop that train of thought before it even gathers good distance.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I walk over to the door and knock, which I should have done in the first place. But how was I supposed to know I would walk in on what I did?

  I hear muffled voices, then ruffling of sheets. “Come in.”

  “You’ve got this, Olivia,” I whisper to myself one last time.

  I push the door open again a
nd focus my eyes anywhere they aren’t. “Hi, I’m Olivia. Your roommate…” I find courage and dare a glance. It’s shocking that they aren’t even trying a little bit to cover themselves. They’re shameless with their open postures and teasing smiles.

  A giddy chuckle causes my gaze to land on the two girls under the sheets. The girl with glowing brown skin and messy dark brown hair eyes me up and down. “Well, shit. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to get a hot roommate?”

  My roommate slaps the other girl’s hand, cocking her head as she, too, examines me. “I didn’t know what she looked like, Jaimie.” The girl sighs. “I’m Julia. I’ll be your roommate for the next two years, until I find a way to get my own place. No offense, but I don’t appreciate having some stranger in my space.”

  “Please, ignore her attitude; she’s naturally a pissy woman,” the other girl, Jaimie, explains and laughs, then kisses the back of Julia’s hand when she playfully hits her chest.

  I nod and, unsure of what to say, drag my luggage to the only other bed, which is on the left side of the quaint room. I briefly cringe at the deep blue that covers the walls. I wonder if I’m allowed to repaint the walls…

  “So you a freshman?” Julia asks.

  I sit down on the edge of my twin bed and nod.

  “Yeah, fresh blood here.” I sputter out a nervous giggle, but it turns into awkward coughs. The girls glance at each other, stifling laughter. I’m really uncomfortable. I think I should leave. No. I know I should the way they keep raising their brows at me. I glance to my feet and tug at the bottom of my dress. “So, um, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it. I have to get to orientation anyway.” I jab my finger toward the door. “I’ll—I’ll be back.” I start for the door.

  “Take your time,” one of the girls, I think Jaimie, calls out as I close the door behind me. I lean against the door, completely mortified.

  I’m not against homosexual relationships in any way, but having seen what I did, I have goosebumps and a rapid heart. I can only pray that since I interrupted their…moment…Julia will carry out whatever action they desire elsewhere. I’m not trying to be rude; I just don’t want to impose.

  Determined to follow through today’s itinerary as planned, I pull out the map of campus as I enter the elevator. Hopefully, sticking to the rest of my plans will put me in a better mood. After all, what’s better than having an entire day planned? You don’t have to worry about trying to remember what you have to do next if you have it written down. And best of all, you can list activities in alphabetical order or time.

  The only pesky negative thing about it is the obstacles you don’t see coming. I try my best to list possible variations that would deter my plans, but sometimes I’m not so lucky. Like what I walked in on a while ago. I did not see that coming at all.

  I exit the building, mostly following the directions in the map. The crowd in the main area of campus has died down a little. But a handful of people in Penn State gear still linger around, either relaxing on the lawn or walking around casually. I assume they’re upperclassmen. Freshman, like me, are either in their dorms unsurely sitting on their beds or wandering around, getting a feel of the campus before classes officially begin Monday.

  A loud group of boys repping Alpha Delta Phi brush past me, chanting, “Party at our frat! Come one, come all!”

  I cringe, picking up my pace. Frats and sororities alike will be throwing parties all weekend. I can already feel the migraines forming in my head. Maybe if I read closely enough and blast classical music of my own, I’ll be able to drown out their partying.

  “Watch out!” someone shouts.

  Before I have any time to react, arms are wrapped around my waist, and I’m yanked back. A blur of a brown object spirals in front of my face. I follow its trail until it’s caught in the arms of a tall male, his muscles practically spilling out of his tank top. He tosses and catches the football in his hand and uses the other to wave at me, yelling out an amused, “Sorry!”

  “One more second and you would have been seeing double.” The person who saved me laughs.

  I turn around and look up to meet a pair of dark brown eyes. A boy with a crooked smile stares down at me. My heart stammers as I realize his arm is still locked around my waist.

  “That would not have ended pretty.” I chuckle nervously, but it just sounds like ridiculous snorts, so I stop and step back.

  He cocks his head at me, and I feel my cheeks heat up. I’m not exactly the most social or functional girl when it comes to boys. Or people in general.

  “I’m not so sure you would have had to deal with that,” he says.

  I open my mouth to say something, but nothing but a low whine comes out. He laughs, and I find myself looking at the ground, not knowing what to do exactly.

  “Well, I should, um, get going.” I wave my hand around.

  “Where are you headed?” he asks.

  I’m not sure I should reveal that to a random guy, especially not after the Lifetime movie marathon I spent watching, which involved young, naïve college girls getting tricked, kidnapped, and tortured. But then again, I do need directions to the auditorium, where the orientation’s being held, and he just saved me from a rogue ball. I weigh the consequences and end up telling him.

  “I’m trying to find the auditorium.”

  “Ah.” He nods his head, slipping his hands into his cargo shorts. “You’re a newbie. Figures.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head, eyeing me up and down, which I do my best to ignore. “It’s just that people who’ve been around here for a while know not to walk in the middle of jocks throwing footballs back and forth, with their noses in campus maps.” He nods to the paper I have clutched in my hand. I laugh and try to discreetly put it behind my back.

  I shrug. “Busted.”

  He laughs. “Would you like me to take you there?”

  “Yes, that would really be helpful.”

  He nods and walks down the path I was headed down. I follow along, neatly folding the map and putting it away in my shoulder bag. While in here, I pull out my phone and check the time. Two thirty-eight, it reads. I have approximately twelve minutes until the orientation begins. My skin crawls at the idea of being late.

  “So what’s your name?” he asks.

  “Olivia Westerfield,” I tell him, putting my phone back into my bag.

  “Mason.” He smiles.

  I look at him and lift my lips in a slight smile. “Do you not have a last name, Mason?”

  He makes up his face and shakes his head. “Not one I’d proudly wave around.” His tone is hostile and bitter, so I just nod, looking away from his nonchalant expression. Touchy subject, I see.

  “Sorry,” I apologize anyway because it’s the right thing to do.

  He waves his hand dismissively. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

  I press my lips together and look around. Behind my need to plan everything that I can, I’m close to being socially inhibited, meaning I don’t have the ability to spark up the most interesting conversation. However, if you were to bring up Pride and Prejudice, I would transform into a walking charm.

  But to my fortune, Mason suddenly erupts into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask, and he shakes his head, an entertained smile on his face as he glances at me.

  “Nothing, it’s just—you would have noticed the lamppost that has the big ‘AUDITORIUM’ sign plastered on it if your nose wasn’t dug into that map of yours.”

  My eyes instinctually flick to the lamppost he’s talking about, and I laugh, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Oh, wow, that’s not humiliating.” I laugh, and he nudges me softly in the shoulder.

  “It’s okay—we were all freshmen once. I once walked into the wrong classroom,” he says.

  I shrug. “We’ve all done that before, as humiliating as it is.”

  “I was still in my sleepwear,” he says, pauses, then cracks
out into laughter. “I legit only sleep in my boxers. Everyone laughed, and I had to wear hideous clothes from the lost and found because of how far I was from my dorm.”

  I can’t help but let laughter slip out, but I try to hide it behind my hand. “Oh my gosh! That’s horrible.”

  He nods, chuckles lacing his words. “It’s all right, I learned to set my damn alarm clock and actually look down before racing across campus.”

  “I have a story that may outshine yours,” I tell him, cringing eternally just at the thought of it.

  He stops walking, and I do too, confused until he points behind me and says, “And I’d love to hear it, but we have arrived at our destination.”

  I turn around and read the big, bold letters that spell out ‘AUDITORIUM.’ I turn back around and smile. “Thank you so much for guiding me here.”

  “No problem.” I begin to turn around to enter the large building, but he grabs my hand and gently tugs. I turn around and look into his eyes. “I’d really love to hear more of your story that could never out-embarrass mine in a million years.”

  “Don’t judge so quickly, Mason-without-a-last-name.”

  He chuckles and nods to my shoulder bag. “Mind if I give you my number?” He quickly lifts up his hands. “For story sharing only, of course.”

  I laugh and nod. “I don’t mind at all.” I reach into my shoulder bag and pull out my phone. He takes it and plugs his phone number in. I take it back and catch sight of a massive clock on the building. I have three minutes.

  “Maybe you can pencil me in taking you to a party later tonight?”

  “How’d you—?” I begin to ask, then look down and notice the big bold PLANNER across my journal sticking out of the bag. “It’s completely okay to plan days…just saying,” I say in my defense.

  “It’s okay, really. I actually find it cute.”

  “Really?” People usually find my planning weird, but I find it soothing in a way.

  “Of course. Who doesn’t love a girl who plans everything down to the minute?”

  “Right?” I unwittingly shriek, and he bursts into laughter I’m growing fond of.