Page 3 of Our Shattered Pieces
Ever.
“I don’t need to get over him, Lauren,” I told her. “I broke up with him. Remember?”
“Same thing.” She shrugged.
Gina gawked at her. “No, Lauren. It’s not.” Then she looked at her watch. “Shit, I’m going to be late for class.” It was Thursday, and it was the only day that all our classes lined up to where we could all have lunch together on campus.
Gina was in college to get a degree in marine science, and Lauren was in college to get a degree in civil engineering. I was here to get a BS in society and environmental studies. In high school, I’d had a blog that focused primarily on women and their empowerment. I had been involved in a lot of extracurricular activities like that, but I had to suspend and end a lot of them because I hadn’t been sure what to expect from college and its time constraints, if any.
“Yeah, we better head on back to class,” I said, agreeing with Gina.
Cleaning up our remnants from lunch, Lauren said, “Well, I’ll be going to Andre’s party if you guys change your minds.”
“We won’t,” Gina said, speaking for the both of us.
Heading our separate ways, I walked back to class with my head down and doing my best not to notice anyone who I didn’t need to notice. It wasn’t that I was shy or stuck up because I was neither.
I was just trying to survive the day.
Chapter 2
Grayson~
“You don’t understand, though,” Eric said.
“Dude, pussy is pussy,” Travis argued. “I mean, seriously.
Eric shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. Pussy is not pussy.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “You guys are acting like you’re fourteen-years-old.”
It was a Tuesday, so we were all at the apartment, the night being a low-key one. Eric Randall, Travis White, and I all shared a three-bedroom apartment in Boston, all three of us attending Boston University.
“You’re just saying that because you have to,” Eric argued. “You’re all loved-up, so you can’t admit that there might be better pussy out there.”
While Iwasin a monogamous relationship with someone, I wasn’t all loved-up. Sure, Katy was cool to hang out with and all, and we’ve been going strong for about a year, but I had plans on going back home to California after graduation. That had always been the plan, and Katy had known it when we had started dating.
I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a momma’s boy, but I was very close with my family, and I had every intention of moving back home to be closer to them. My father was a criminal attorney, and my mother was a high school teacher. Mom taught World History, and you’d be amazed by the random shit me and my sister knew.
Now me? I wanted to teach English Comp. and coach football. And while those two subjects might seem odd as a pair, I had a very specific reason for wanting to teach both.
First, I was a reader. Reading, writing, essays, all that shit has always been enjoyable for me. Where my sister, Rowan, had always been good with numbers, and while I was no slouch in the math department, I preferred my English classes to mathematics.
Second, English Comp. seemed to be a difficult class for a lot of athletes. For whatever reason, it seemed as if that was always the one class that they struggled in. So, I figured if I could teach one and coach the other, I could help students on two levels instead of just one. And Boston University was going to make that happen for me.
“I’m not loved-up,” I clarified. “I just happen to have a sister and mother, and don’t get off on talking about females like that.” They both had the decency to flush. Especially, since they both had mothers and sisters. Eric had two, for fuck’s sake. “I’m not a saint, but anyone talking about Rowan like that and it’s on.”
Eric groaned. “Way to take the fun out of it,” he grumbled.
I laughed. “I’m not trying to take the fun out of anything,” I told him. “I’m just stating my facts, gentlemen.”
The problem with having Rowan for a sister was that she was…well, she was what you’d call a blonde bombshell. Taking after our mother, Lillian, she had inherited the blonde hair, blue eyes, and the figure you’d expect from that combination.
And I ought to know.
From her first training bra to her first zit to her first period, I’d been there for it all. Rowan and I had always been close, and it seemed as if I had always been the only one home when she’d find herself in an identity crisis.
It hadn’t been fun.
