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The last time I saw him, he ambushed me in the parking lot, pushed me against a car, shoved his tongue in my mouth, and murmured obscene things in my ear. I managed to stomp on his foot and ran back to my mom’s office, terrified he might do something worse. The last thing I heard him scream was how he loved my “dominant” side.
What an asshole.
With the sound of keys unlocking the door, I snapped back to reality and realized we had already arrived at my mother’s office.
She struggled with the lock, letting out a string of frustrated curses before finally gaining entry.
“Mama, I really don’t want to see Charles. I can’t stand him. And don’t forget, I have to study for my finals, just like you…” I began, but she cut me off abruptly.
“We’re going, and that’s final.”
My jaw tightened.
“Do you remember Patrick Noels, my boss?” she asked, pointing to a photograph on her desk of the two of them shaking hands. There was a noticeable flush coloring her cheeks as she added, “I don’t think he’ll be too pleased if I refuse to bring my daughter to a dinner he arranged so his son could spend time with her.”
She then placed her Valentino bag on the desk and retrieved a pink lipstick from it.
Using her phone as a mirror, she deftly applied it to her lips.
“You mean he wants to see me so he can take advantage of me this time!” I blurted out, my blood pounding in my ears. Clenching my fists, I took a step closer to her.
It was the first time I’d ever raised my voice at my mama, but I couldn’t understand why she’d been so insensitive lately or why she was pushing me to bond with the Noels.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, turning around with a furrowed brow and staring at me.
My mama was undeniably stunning, with her sparkling brown eyes and naturally rosy cheeks. But when she looked at me like that, I dreaded the words that might come out of her mouth.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! Remember that day when I…” I trailed off, overwhelmed by the memories.
A knock on the door interrupted us. Professor Hamilton peeked in, flashing a friendly smile, and signaled for my mom to join him for their meeting. She returned the smile, gave me a quick, disapproving look, and told me to head to the library until lunchtime.
As she walked away, a heavy silence settled in. I took a moment to gather myself before heading to the library. Adulthood can be a lonely journey, and I was starting to really understand that. I had once seen adulthood as a time of freedom and excitement, but now I saw it differently. The weight of responsibilities felt overwhelming, and it was all too easy to feel depressed. University wasn’t making it any easier.
I felt like I was constantly under pressure to figure out my future, when I should be out living my best life—partying, having fun, and just enjoying myself. But instead, it seemed like there was no room for any of that. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d really enjoyed myself, and that realization was painful.
My mom put so much pressure on me about my education, always pushing me to succeed. But I kept wondering if it was worth it if I couldn’t enjoy the present. Aren’t we supposed to live in the moment? With how uncertain and fragile life is, it seemed like a waste to get caught up in things that didn’t really matter.
With a sigh, I decided to take a walk around campus.
Winter was approaching, and a chilly breeze was blowing through my hair. The cool air was refreshing, so I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to soak in the tranquility.
Suddenly, loud, deep laughter interrupted the peace. I opened my eyes to see a group of frat boys playing rugby while others lounged on the grass, reading or hanging out with their dogs. I never understood how people were so full of energy in the mornings.
For me, waking up felt like dragging myself through a fog until lunchtime.
I was more of a night person, finding solace when everything was quiet. Under the stars and the moon, I felt truly at ease.
Like the Little Prince, I believed the moon held the key to inner tranquility.
Feeling suddenly exhausted from my existential crisis on a random Tuesday morning, I headed back to my mom’s office.
My head was down, lost in thought, until I bumped into something solid, as though I’d crashed into a concrete wall.
Disoriented, I looked up and found myself staring into the deepest, darkest brown eyes I had ever seen. Startled, I took a step back and let my gaze slowly travel across his face.
Calling him attractive felt like an understatement. This man was absolutely stunning. He stood tall—easily six-four—with a face that could rival Apollo’s. His intense gaze seemed to warm me from within, and his muscular build hinted at a hidden strength.
Could he carry me?
