Page 4 of Of Pranks and Passion

He grunted in acknowledgement, giving his attention back to his show. Turning around, I considered my roommate. He was way more outgoing than me. Maybe he could help.

“Hey, Carter?”

He looked up from where he was vegging out on the futon watching tv. Our beds were bunked with me on the top to make enough room for his futon and the TV. I didn’t really mind since he made some space for my desk and so far hadn’t let any of his friends mess with it. I spent most of my time in the library when I needed to study anyway.

“What’s up?”

“Um…If you started a class this late, would that bother you?”

He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Depends on the class. But probably. It’s hard to catch up when you start late. Most people don’t bother this far out. Isn’t the cut off in like two days?”

That, I didn't know, but it sounded right. It was impossible to switch classes after a certain point. Partly I think to have a better idea of the number of students, but I also thought it had something to do with the workload. It would be impossible to catch up after a certain point.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I stared off into space. I remembered switching schools halfway through the year in high school and being completely lost starting somewhere new. I hated it, and it took forever for me to catch up. I didn’t want this guy suffering just because he started late.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes back on the tv screen.

“There was this new guy who showed up halfway through class today. He hadn’t been there before. He looked kind of stressed…”

“You could help him out,” Carter suggested. “I saw your notes the other day. They’re crazy organized. Kinda wish you were in some of my classes so you could take notes for me.”

I twisted my mouth to hide my smile, shaking my head at him. But it wasn’t a terrible idea. I was more careful about studying now that I was in college. I’d lose what little scholarships I had if I didn’t get good grades. I could make the new guy a copy and maybe it’d help a little. Besides, going over my notes was a good way to review what we’d gone through already.

Carter rolled off the couch, bouncing to his feet. “Well, I’ve got practice. Don’t wait up, alright?”

He tousled my hair, laughing when I pushed his hand away, and grabbed his bag on his way out. I think most people would be annoyed with the way he treated me, but I didn’t mind it. It was better than the way I used to be treated, and he wasn’t being cruel about it. And I kind of liked it. It took some getting used to, but he was nice to me.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I pulled out another notebook. I didn’t want to think about before. Now that I was out on my own, I wanted to focus on the bright side. I had a nice roommate, a decent class load, and a part-time job in the cafe on campus. Things could definitely be way worse.

I sawthe grungy guy again on Wednesday. We actually had a few classes together, though he missed half on Monday. Maybe another accounting major? That would be nice. I hadn’t made any friends in my major yet. Some people thought it was silly to choose a major as a freshman, but I wasn’t a clueless nineteen-year-old. I had a job in mind, and the whole reason I went toschool was for this specific degree. Why waste time pretending I’d be doing anything else?

The grungy guy sat next to me like he had the week before. He was only a few minutes late this time, and the professor hadn’t really started yet. It gave me the opportunity to catch his attention. I cleared my throat, biting my lip while I waited for him to acknowledge me.

Dark green eyes shifted my way and narrowed. “What?”

“I, um… I noticed you started late. I, uh, made you a copy of the notes from the days you missed. Not everything we talked about was in the book.”

When I offered him the copy, he frowned at it like he didn’t understand. Nerves and embarrassment made my hand shake, and I felt a flush creeping its way up my neck and into my cheeks the longer he stared at it. When he finally took the stapled stack of notes I made for him, I let out a heavy breath, turning to face the front again. The professor was talking, and I needed to focus. This class was one of my major requirements.

The class passed quickly, thanks to my focus being split between the professor and the guy next to me. I watched out of the corner of my eye when he flipped through the packet, and then, once he finished looking it through, he spent the rest of the class looking at me. I felt his stare on the side of my face. Pretty sure by the time class was over, I was as red as a tomato. I hurried to pack up my stuff, and thankfully, he didn’t stop me when I scurried out. Maybe it was a bad move to give him notes he didn’t ask for. Why the heck did I have to be so awkward?

CHAPTER THREE

EASTON

The packetof notes felt heavy in my hand as I walked to my next class. I still didn’t get it. I didn't even know the guy existed, and suddenly he was offering me notes for the shit I missed? What was his goal? Did he somehow figure out who I was related to and hoped to make a connection to my family?

People weren’t that nice without a damn reason.

My next class, like all my classes, was boring as hell. I spent most of it looking at the notes the kid gave me. Not just a photocopy of what he’d done before. They were carefully hand written in neat print, with highlighted bits to mark different sections and topics. He even starred the stuff he thought was important. It must’ve taken him a while to do the first time, so it begged to question why he went through the effort to do it a second time just for me. We hadn’t even spoken to each other before today.

It irritated me the rest of the afternoon, and when I saw him in my last class of the day, hiding in the back with his head down, I weaved through the desks and sat next to him again. Part of it was intrigue, part suspicion. If he was looking to make somekind of connection, I wanted to clear that shit up fast. I didn’t do connections to my family. And I took issue with anyone trying to use me to get to them. I couldn’t count how many fights I got into as an angsty teenager whenever I realized that’s why people were approaching me. The only people who didn’t give a shit were my friends.

The kid didn’t look devious at first glance. He didn’t look like he’d harm a butterfly, to be honest. He was small, probably five eight max, and thanks to a t-shirt and jeans, I could tell he wasn’t built. Not a physical threat, at least. He had curly brown hair and wide chocolate eyes. His pale skin was prone to blushing, and he turned bright red when I sat down next to him. I studied him with a frown. Was that response embarrassment over trying to use me? Or was something else going on?

I didn’t hear a single word of the lecture, and when the class was done, he scurried away like a scared mouse. I followed him at a more relaxed pace, my eyes locked on him even when my phone went off in my pocket. I put it to my ear, following the kid through the quad toward the library.

“What?”

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