Page 1 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

PROLOGUE

ASHLYN

My head bobs up and down to the music on the radio while I wait for the red light to turn green and fiddle with my car's heater. Even though it’s late in the afternoon, the temperature is dropping, and I know as soon as the sun slips beneath the horizon, it’ll get cold again. It doesn’t help that my last class is with Professor Williams, who likes to keep her classroom colder than Antarctica. A chill races down my spine as I turn the heat to full blast. At least it’s my last class for the week. I’m ready for a nice, hot bubble bath with a side of ice cream. After the week I’ve had, I need it—big time.

As I make a mental checklist of my upcoming assignments in my classes while tapping my finger against the steering wheel, a massive truck pulls up beside me.

From the corner of my eye, I peek over and catch a glimpse of a corded forearm resting against the steering wheel and a chiseled chin.

Um…hello.

I crane my neck a little further while attempting to be inconspicuous.

Hot damn.

Clearing my throat, I look back at the stoplight. Because, ya know, it’s rude to stare.

The light’s still red.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth for a few seconds and go back to my checklist, but the stranger tugs at my curiosity despite my best efforts to ignore him. Unable to help myself, I glance at the guy again. My mouth practically waters as I take in his silhouette.

He has dark sunglasses propped on his nose, and his full lips are mouthing the lyrics to whatever song he’s listening to. His dark hair is somewhat wavy and is pushed away from his face, showcasing his tan skin and stubbled jaw as he stares at the stoplight in front of us. Thankfully, he appears to be oblivious to the fact I’m most definitely checking him out when I most definitely shouldn’t be.

I gulp.

Who is this guy? He doesn’t look familiar.

It’s not surprising, though. LAU’s campus isn’t exactly small, but when your boyfriend’s on the hockey team and is LAU’s golden boy, you get to know people. A lot of people. Especially the good-looking ones. I swear they group themselves together.

But this guy?

I tilt my head, continuing my perusal.

No, I for sure don’t know him.

If I’d seen him walking around campus or around the Taylor House for one of Theo’s parties, I would’ve noticed. I know I would have.

The guy’s good-looking. Very good-looking.

His mouth quirks into a smile as if he can read my mind as he looks down at his lap. I glance back at the stoplight––which is still red––then steal another peek at the stranger.

Is he texting someone?

My phone dings with a notification, and I flinch at the obtrusive sound, my heart kicking up a notch as if I was caught doing something I shouldn’t be, which, I guess, isn’t exactly off-base. Digging the phone out of my purse, I scan the notification. My cheeks heat, and a gasp slips out of me.

Holy crap on a cracker. It’s an airdrop notification. From someone I most definitely don’t know.

Colt Thorne would like to share a note.

Colt Thorne?

Is he Colt Thorne?

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I glance up at the truck again, but the space is empty, and the light is green.

Shit.

A loud honk blares from behind me, feeding my embarrassment until I’m pretty sure I’ll never live it down as I press the gas. As I drive through the intersection while staring at a certain truck a few yards in front of me, indecision gnaws in my lower gut.

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