Page 8 of The Romance Rivalry

I smile at her and her big heart. I don’t tell her I don’t think I believe in empaths. No reason to concern her. Jeannette treats me as if we’ve known each other for years. And the friends back home that I have known for years haven’t even contacted me once since graduation. The definition of “friend” seems so different from high school to college. There’s a lot that’s going to be different, I suspect.

I scan the room and take in the diverse group, curious where each of my fellow freshmen has come from and what they dream of doing. I wonder if any of them are in the Contemporary Literature program with me. Does anyone here read romance? Smaller class, lower odds. But still, I feel confident there are some.

My eyes are drawn to the back of someone sitting in the middle of the room a few rows in front of me. Broad shoulders, long neck, straight posture. His hair is cut tight in the back, longer in the front. He pulls his head from side to side, stretching, yet I still can’t see his face. But there’s something so familiar about him. Like I’ve seen that jawline before. Do I know him? Surely I would have heard about it if someone from my high school had ended up at Brighton as well.

“Okay, have you made an assessment yet of the options?” Jeannette leans into me while she scans the room. “I mean, you don’t have to limit yourself to just freshmen, obviously. But I feel like it’s a good start. Let me see...” Jeannette looks down at her phone’s Notes app. Listed are some of thetropes we brainstormed over breakfast. For someone who doesn’t really read romance, she seemed especially excited about friends-to-lovers and second-chance romances. I gave her a few book recommendations to check out.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up to find a guy with an easy smile standing there. His blond hair is messy in a way that doesn’t look like it’s been done on purpose. And he has his hands shoved into his front pockets, shoulders lifted in an “aw shucks” kinda charm.

Wow. So guys like thatdoexist.

My mouth feels like a desert.

I’m here at a small school, technically a small town, so it very well could be that the first new person I meet ends up being The One. Just like in the books.

Okay, then, let’s do this.

“Um, nope, it’s available,” I say with a smile. I grab my backpack and jacket off the seat and set them on the floor. “They haven’t started yet, so you’re just in time.”

“Cool, guess it’s my lucky day,” he says as he takes a seat. “Hi, I’m Derek, by the way.” He reaches out his hand and I grab it.

“Hi, I’m Irene, and this is my roommate, Jeannette.”

“Nice to meet you both.” He holds my eye for one second longer than is necessary. I feel my face blush and hope it doesn’t look all splotchy. Just as I look away, I notice himdoing a once-over of me from head to toe.

I try to play it cool. Don’t smile too big. Don’t seem too eager. I’ve never been the type guys notice and look at twice. But now that I’m in my romance-heroine era, maybe things are changing.

Jeannette elbows me in a very unsubtle way and I bite my tongue not to let out the “ow” I’m feeling from it. We both need to relax, find our chill.

“Where are you from, Derek?” I ask. Small talk. Yes, good.

“New York. Manhattan,” he says.

“What’s your major?”

“I’m a poli-sci major. My dad’s a city councilman and he’d really like to see me follow in his footsteps,” Derek says.

Interesting. Big-city boy runs from his family’s overbearing expectations and lands in a small town where he unexpectedly meets the love of his life. I’ve definitely read this one.

“What about you?” Derek asks.

“I’m a contemporary literature major. I’m studying to become an editor, in publishing,” I explain. “Books are kind of my thing.”

And let the awkward silence commence, as it so often does when I mention books.

“Hey, so what are you doing after orientation? Do you wanna go and get a coffee with me?” Derek asks.

His invitation catches me off guard. It feels sudden. We’veonly exchanged pleasantries and, like, two questions about ourselves. His eagerness is unexpected. What’s wrong with him that he’s interested in me already? I haven’t had the chance to be self-deprecating in a witty and charming way yet.

“Um...” I’m uncertain how to respond.

“You just adore coffee, Irene. Weren’t you saying so this very morning?” Jeannette says.

Well, I actually said I’d be crawling through the mud without coffee in the morning, but I guess that’s one interpretation. And why is Jeannette suddenly talking like a New England debutante? She’s from the Valley.

“Yeah, okay, sure, sounds good,” I say. No harm in meeting someone new with my roommate.

---