Page 32 of The Romance Rivalry

I’m all for second chances in life and in love. But in this book, Jake’s original feelings for his friend Belle were nothing more than a childhood crush... unrequited, I might add. So when they came back together years later, acting as if they were always meant to be, it felt disingenuous, in my opinion. I wasn’t buying it.

—@aidentheguyreadsromance

Seven

second-chance romance

Midterms have taken over all signs of life at Brighton.

I’ve been to the library every day and night this week trying any way possible to get the material from all my classes to stick. Luckily, the only class I don’t have a midterm in is Intro to Lit. Our grades lie completely on our weekly journal entries, class participation, and partnered project. Which is an entirely different story. Especially since Aiden and I have been so busy trying to date any person we can possibly stuff into a trope, we’ve barely made any meaningful progress on the project.

Jeannette has her headphones on when I get back to the dorm. Her normally vibrant red hair looks dull and unwashed. It’s up in a messy bun, half of it falling out and hanging loose. She’s in the same sweats I’ve seen her wear for the past three days. And her velvety porcelain skin shows signs of some newstress acne and redness. I’m worried about her.

She’s been in a frenzied state as midterm week has approached like a train coming at full speed. Jeannette lives with the constant pressure of being the oldest daughter/sister and setting a good example for her younger brothers. It’s like she’s carrying the weight of her whole family on her shoulders. But I’ve met her dad and seen her FaceTime with her brothers. They all adore her. I wish she’d cut herself some slack.

I’ve tried to give her space during this time, especially since in the first couple months of school, she’s been so available and supportive of me and my nutty little plan to find a boyfriend.

But I miss her.

I walk over to her desk and gently tap her on the shoulder. She jumps at the contact, too stressed and pumped full of Red Bull to be able to control her overreaction.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh gosh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. I had my headphones on so I didn’t hear you come in,” she says.

Her lips are cracked and chapped, and I just want to wrap her in a blanket, walk her to the bathroom, and push her into a hot shower. But even with it all, she still looks gorgeous. Some gals have all the luck.

I’m the type of gal who grows an unfortunate angry cystic zit on the tip of her nose. This one is so big, it actuallyimpacts my line of sight. I’m feeling very lucky we decided to put our trope dating challenge on hold for a week until midterms are over. No guy would want to be seen with me in this state.

“Did you eat lunch? Wanna go grab something? Or I can go get something for you and bring it back?” I offer.

“What time is it? Actually, what day is it?” she asks. “I feel like I’m just drowning in these philosophy theories.” She drops her head into her hands and lets out a groan. “I’m never gonna pass this midterm.”

“Yes, you are. But I think you need a break from this studying. At least to get some food into you. And a shower. A little sunshine wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Knock-knock.”

We both turn around to see our resident advisor, Allison, standing at the door. “It’s a Brighton tradition. Midterm stress-relief kickball tournament between all the freshmen dorms. Let’s go kick some ass. Meet me at the entrance in ten minutes.” She points directly at Jeannette. “No one is exempt!”

Normally, any kind of organized team activity would sound like the worst idea ever to me. But I look at my bestie-roommate and her worn-down state and I wonder if these Brighton traditions are exactly what students need, and they know it. Maybe there’s something to this kickball thing.

“The worst timing,” I say. “But not a bad idea to let offsome steam. Let’s go!” I try to put on my most excited voice. It sounds a little manic, but I don’t do excited that often. Today I play the cheerleader for Jeannette and do what’s best for her.

“I don’t think I can. I’m so far behind,” she says. She looks back over at her notes and laptop on her desk, brow furrowed.

I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze to get her attention back on me.

“You heard Allison. ‘No’ isn’t an option. I’m pretty sure they’ve made this a tradition because all the poor freshmen who have come before us have also fallen prey to midterm anxieties. C’mon, we won’t stay long, I promise. You know how I am with sportsball stuff.” She forces a smile and I take that as I win. I hold out my hand and wiggle my fingers to get her attention, trying to coax her to take hold of it so I can pull her up and finally get her out of that desk chair. I wonder if she’s left a stain.

She takes the hint and grabs my hand, flopping her way out of the chair. I push her to sit on her bed and grab some socks and her sneakers from her side of the closet. “Here, put these on,” I say as I go do the same.

“Kickball, yay,” she says drolly.

I grab both her shoulders and look her in the eye. I can, since she’s still seated on her bed, which puts us at almost the same height. “Hey, missy. We’re going to go out thereand relieve some stress and kick some balls and... stuff. And then we’re going to eat. And you’re going to shower and put on fresh clothes. And THEN you can get back to studying. Agreed?”

She sighs heavily, but then, as if a light has been turned on inside, she smiles. “You’re right. Okay, I’m with you. Let’s go kick some balls!”

I laugh, and we link arms as we head out to meet the rest of our dormmates.

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