Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Gianna Gabriela
Fighting For You
Prologue
Chapter One
Not The Same
Prologue
Not The End
Prologue
Better With You
Bragan University Series (Book One)
Copyright © 2017 Gianna Gabriela
Second edition, 2018
ISBN: 987-1987439577
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, or by any other means, without written permission from the author. The only time passages may be used is for teasers, blog posts, articles, or reviews, so long as the work isn’t being wrongfully used.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events, and incidents portrayed are solely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, events, or other incidents is coincidental or are used fictitiously.
Cover design, editing, & formatting by Lauren Dawes (Sly Fox Cover Designs).
To Lauren, because without you this book wouldn’t be what it is. You were one of the first people I met in this book world as a hopeful author and you helped me become a real one. Thank you for your hand holding, sound boarding, and all your wonderful talents in designing my cover, my teasers, formatting and editing, and everything in between. This book marked a lot of firsts for us. More to come! #DreamTeam.
Prologue
MIA
“Leave me alone!” I hear someone scream, their voice so loud it frightens me awake, my heart beating out of my chest. I rush out of the room, slowly creeping down the stairs. As I near the final step, I hear sobbing followed by smashing glass. Initially, I think it’s an intruder, but the closer I get, the more familiar the voices become. I make my way in the direction of the kitchen, and when I get there, I see my mother standing next to the kitchen counter in the pajamas she had put on after dinner. She isn’t smiling as she had been a few hours ago, though. Tears streak her cheeks. She looks tired—both physically and emotionally.
In front of her, barely standing, is my father. He is dressed in a button-down that has come untucked from his dark blue jeans. On the floor between them are broken pieces of glass. Even from where I’m standing I can recognize the “Jack Daniels” label on what is left of the bottle. To my knowledge, my parents had never fought before, and watching them now feels as if I’m watching strangers—not my parents. I sense something is breaking, and it isn’t just the bottle on the floor…
COLTON
“Damn it.”
I cannot believe I left my laptop at home. At least that’s where I assume it is. The last place I’d seen the damn thing was in my room. Yesterday, I had packed everything and moved in early to the fraternity house on account of football practice starting before classes did.
“Fuck.” I need my computer to finish an assignment for the independent studies course I enrolled in this summer. It’s for advanced students and I decided to take it because I thought it would look good on my transcript, and help with graduate school applications if football doesn’t work out.
I think about who could bring it to me so that I don’t have to drive back home. My football and volleyball playing twin brother and sister, Nick and Kaitlyn, have already moved into their own fraternity and sorority houses, so they’re out. I dial my dad’s number, but hang up almost immediately when I remember he’s at the office, as usual. I decide to call Mom instead. The phone rings until I get her voicemail. Knowing she’s probably at the country club planning some form of charitable event—her new hobby—I hang up the phone and decide to pick up the computer myself, even if I’m cutting it a little close to being late for practice.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m home. I let myself into the house and jog up to my room, where I immediately spot my laptop. I grab it and the charger, then look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything else. After running down a mental checklist, I close my door and head down the hall towards the stairs. As I approach the staircase, I hear a sound coming from my parents’ bedroom. I continue walking, but stop when I hear a man’s voice; the tone and pitch not like my father’s. My stomach begins to ache. Something bad is about to happen. I can feel it in my gut. Letting out a breath, I push one foot in front of the other, let myself into my parents’ room, and cannot erase what I see from my mind …
1
One Year Later…
MIA
“Mia, hurry up! We’re going to be late,” my roommate, Kiya, yells at me through the bathroom door. Although I can safely say that after spending the whole summer living with her, she is more than just my roommate—she’s my closest friend. After transferring to Bragan University from California in June, I’d moved into the dorms to take some summer classes.
That was when I met Kiya for the first time. She’d walked into the room, announced that she was my roommate and that we were “going to be the best of friends”. I thought she was kidding, but after a few days of sharing the space with her, I realized she was not. She was right though; she did become my best friend.
“Mia! Hello?”
Crap.
“I’m getting ready!” I yell back. “Ugh, why did I agree to go to this bar?” I add.
“Because you survived your first semester at Bragan!” Kiya shouts back. “And you’ve been hauling ass this entire summer, so we are celebrating! We are partying, and drinking, and maybe bringing some guys back to the dorm!” she says in a very cheery voice. She sounds like she’s already started drinking, but I’m not going to say anything. She deserves the break after working so hard to catch up on classes. I haven’t been the only one hitting the books this summer.
I rush to get ready, running to my closet to grab my favorite pair of jean shorts. They aren’t anything fancy, but they make me feel comfortable. It’s still warm outside, so I put on black strappy sandals, and throw on a black tank top. I check myself out in the mirror and think I look okay, but when Kiya comes out of the bathroom, I can see from her expression that I don’t. Her eyes travel from the messy bun at the top of my head to my feet. I know she disapproves of what I am wearing, but I don’t care. I agreed to go to this thing, but I never agreed to dress up for it.
Kiya on the other hand looks amazing. She is wearing tight leather jeans and an off-the-shoulder black t-shirt. I know I’m going to end up coming back to the dorm alone. I’m a little jealous that Kiya, unlike myself, inherited her father’s darker skin, while I only inherited an almost permanent tan.
“Really? That’s what you are going to wear?” she finally says to me.
“Yup. I told you I was going to the stupid bar, but you never said anything about a dress code.”
She sighs in defeat. “Ugh, fine, Mia. Let’s go. The Uber is outsid
e already.”
I manage to grab my purse before Kiya pulls me out of the room. This night is one of the last nights we will be spending in this dorm. We looked at a loft over the summer and are finally moving in on September first.
By the time the Uber finally stops in front of the bar, Eclipse, I begin feeling very uncomfortable. I can see cars parked all around the building. This place is clearly packed, and the thought of walking in there to a large crowd of people overwhelms me. Classes and the dorm are where I’ve spent my summers. Bars, parties, and large groups terrify me. Still, I swallow my fear, pushing it down as far as it can go.
One day of doing something different won’t kill me.
Before I’m able to second guess my decision, I am once again manhandled by Kiya. She is a little too eager to get inside, and almost runs into the bouncer in the process. He asks for our IDs, and since I am only twenty, I give him the fake ID Kiya made me get a few weeks ago. She hands him hers, but she’s got nothing to worry about since she’s twenty-one. He inspects the IDs, then looks directly at us. My stomach sinks, and the fear that we’ll get caught creeps in. He returns the IDs and gestures for us to go inside.
As soon as we get inside, Kiya disappears from my side. I assumed she would, but I expected us to at least have drinks in our hands before she did. I guess I was wrong.
I glance around the room, taking in my surroundings. I like to be aware, especially when I’m somewhere unfamiliar.
In the middle of the room, there is a dance floor that is too small for the number of people currently dancing on it. There is no DJ, but there are large speakers in different places on the ceiling. The music is so loud that I can barely hear my own thoughts. Kiya lied by telling me this was a bar since it’s definitely a nightclub. Of course, my roommate would have known I’d reject an invitation to a nightclub instantly. I roll my eyes, disappointed at myself for falling for it.
I move further into Eclipse and make my way to the bar. I stand there for about twenty minutes before I finally catch the attention of one of the bartenders. I ask him for a Malibu rum and Coke. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but that’s the drink I remember my mom getting when we went out to eat. I’m out, so might as well try it. Plus, I know Kiya will be mad at me if my breath doesn’t at least smell like alcohol. If I’m going to pay for a drink, it might as well be one my mother enjoyed.
After downing a second drink, which ended up not being awful, I spot Kiya. She is in the middle of the dance floor, dancing up on some guy who seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. His hands are low on her hips as she swings them to the beat. I envy her sometimes. She is careless, fearless, and puts herself out there. She makes sure she is always herself regardless of what others may think. But I know I can’t be like her, because I’m not fearless, or careless. I’d like to think I don’t care about what others think, but deep down, I know I do.
In an attempt to drown my thoughts, I look down at my phone, which is funny because aside from Kiya, there is no one else I talk to. No one else even has my number. I carry one for the sole purpose of calling 911 in case of an emergency. I look at the time and notice I’ve been sitting here for two hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. Lucky for me, no one approaches me or even attempts to start a conversation. It’s as if I’m invisible, which is fine. I prefer it this way.
I put my phone away and begin to look around the room again, searching for Kiya. She has moved to a corner and is taking shots with three guys. One has his hands wrapped around her waist, while the other two are laughing. I can’t tell what’s being said, but it must be one hell of a story. I keep looking around, not for anything in particular—just to take it all in. My eyes stop on a girl pretty enough to be a model. She appears to be around 5’7 or 5’8 with corn silk blonde hair that falls smoothly below her shoulders. Her black mini skirt makes her long muscular legs look all the more lengthy and attractive. She’s also wearing a red crop top and her look is complete with a smoky-eye and red lipstick.
When she tries to make her way to the dance floor, she starts to wobble on her feet. She’s probably drunk like everyone else in here. Everyone but me. Two guys approach, both towering over her. They block her path and begin to touch her. One grabs her from behind and the other gets close to her face. They are too close to her, and she is visibly uncomfortable. She tries to push the one in front of her away, trying to get him to stop blocking the path, but her efforts are unsuccessful. She isn’t sober enough or strong enough to succeed. No one rushes to her aid, so she is either alone, or her friends aren’t paying attention to her. There are too many people at Eclipse, yet everyone is too busy minding their own business. They either haven’t noticed or don’t care enough to do something, but for some reason I do.
But how can I help her? I’m a short one-hundred-and-twenty-pound girl. I cannot pick a fight with these guys. They’re pissing me off, though, staring at this girl like she’s their prey, their dinner. Still, I can’t let these guys take advantage of her. My feet start moving. With each step I take, I whisper to myself, “You got this, Mia.”
“Hey!” I yell at the two douchebags who don’t even realize I’m standing here. The girl looks at me though, and I can see the plea in her eyes. She’s afraid and with good reason.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” I raise my voice and wave my arms, while making sure I exude a confidence I certainly don’t feel.
“You want in on some of the action?” asks one of the jerks. He turns to face me, lowering his face to meet my eyes. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are red. Yup, he’s got to be on something.
I decide to change my approach. As I get ready to execute my new plan I am pushed and shoved by others grinding on the dance floor. After pushing and shoving others out of my way, I finally reach them and, instead of having an all-out battle with these guys in the middle of the dance floor, I grab the girl’s hand and drag her outside.
“Stop!” the girl shouts at me as she tries to wrench her arm out of my hold. We stop in the parking lot beside the bar, and I release my grip on her arm.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asks as she glares at me. I am not sensing an ounce of gratitude from her even though I’m pretty sure I just prevented her from getting assaulted.
“Can you speak?” she demands angrily.
I don’t know what her problem is with me, but her tone is starting to annoy me.
“I can speak, and I don’t think I’m the one you should be yelling at right now considering I just helped you,” I say to her, looking her straight in the eyes. For a brief second, I wonder if I should have even bothered to help her at all. I shake that thought out of my mind immediately. No one deserves to get assaulted.
“Help me?” she splutters. “What… Why… I didn’t need your help!” She yelps as she loses her balance, only catching herself just before hitting the ground. I’m not sure if she’s too drunk or too naïve to realize what could’ve happened to her tonight.
I don’t say anything in response. I know I have to get her home. She’s vulnerable, and someone else could take advantage of her.
“Mia!” I hear Kiya say from behind me. “What happened?” she asks, panting. “I was dancing and when I looked around for you to introduce you to a few guys, you were hauling ass out of the bar with some—”
Before Kiya could finish her sentence, she stops and stares at the girl, then looks to me. Her eyes widen, and I realize she knows this girl.
“Mia, why did you drag Kaitlyn Hunter out of the bar?” This time she speaks to me with a different tone; she’s curious.
“Some douchebags were trying to take advantage of her. She’s hammered so I brought her outside,” I grudgingly explain.
“I’m not drunk,” Kaitlyn says. Kiya and I turn to see Kaitlyn clutch her stomach. She bends over and begins to throw up. Great. This night just went from celebratory to disturbing.
We watch Kaitlyn intently, waiting for her to stop throwing up. She lifts her head after she finishes,
and I can see the relief in her eyes. I guess getting some of the alcohol out of her system was helping.
“Where are her friends?” Kiya asks, echoing the question I asked myself earlier.
I shrug and answer, “I think she came alone. I didn’t see anyone with her, or around her. And if she did come with someone, they’re long gone by now.”
Kiya looks puzzled for a moment before shaking her head. “We have to get someone to pick her up,” she says and I nod in agreement. Kiya turns to Kaitlyn and asks for her phone. After Kaitlyn hands it over, Kiya says she’s going to call Kaitlyn’s brother. Kaitlyn goes pale at the thought, but Kiya is already searching through the contacts. Before I can ask Kiya how she knows the girl’s brother, Kiya waves the phone at me and puts it to her ear.
I can’t hear whatever Kiya is saying while she’s on the phone because now I am too busy holding Kaitlyn’s blonde locks back while she continues to empty the contents of her stomach. I am so grossed out that I almost join her. I promise myself to never be the girl that gets this drunk.
“He’s on his way,” Kiya says as she joins us on the sidewalk. Kaitlyn has stopped throwing up, but she needs a shower and sleep. I watch as she sits hunched over on the ground, her head resting on her knees. She has no fight left in her. She is ready to go home. And honestly, so am I.
Better With You: A Bragan University Novel Page 1
