Better With You: A Bragan University Novel

by Gabriela, Gianna

  “Instead?” she says urging me on.

  “Instead, you meet me for coffee at the student café every day we have class together,” I say, putting it all out there, hoping she accepts my proposal because I have the urge to spend more time with her.

  This wasn’t enough. I need more.

  “For how long?” she asks.

  “Until the end of the semester.” Or forever, I add in my head for fear of sounding like a creep if I say it out loud.

  “Sounds doable.”

  I give myself a mental high five. “Good.”

  “Just so you know, I won.”

  “Yes, yes, you did,” I say with a secret smile. And so did I because she just gave me the in I needed.

  14

  What the hell is that annoying sound?

  I look at my alarm clock and see it’s 5:58. Like, 5:58 in the morning. I’m supposed to have two more blissful minutes of sleep before my alarm rings. The noise continues, and I realize it’s not my alarm—it’s my phone.

  I get up slowly, already knowing I’m going to be sore everywhere. Even lifting myself up from the bed is a task. I slowly move one leg and place it on the floor, the other following after. Goodness, I really should not have pushed myself so hard at the gym. If I thought how I felt yesterday was bad, this is hell. I slowly reach for my phone, my arms feeling like they’re going to fall off.

  Without bothering to look at the caller ID, I swipe right and answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” the voice on the other line says at the same time my alarm clock starts ringing. Out of habit, I hit the snooze button.

  “Colton?”

  “Mia,” he responds, and I can tell he’s smiling.

  “Are you okay?” I ask because something must be really wrong if he’s calling me this early.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I rub my eyes and a yawn escapes me. “Okay, so why are you calling me?”

  “Am I not allowed to call you?”

  “Not at five in the morning!”

  “It’s six.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Not really.”

  Not wanting to get dragged into the argument, I ask, “Why are you calling?”

  “Couldn’t I have just wanted to talk to you? Do I need a reason?”

  “Yes, yes you do. You need a reason to rob me of two minutes of precious sleep.”

  “Remember, I gave you the extra hour by allowing you to bail on our bet.”

  “I didn’t bail. We made a deal.”

  “Yes, we did, and that’s what I’m calling about.”

  “Really, at this time?”

  “I just finished my workout.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me,” I respond sarcastically.

  “And we have a coffee date today.” Date? Did he just say date?

  “Are we already starting this new arrangement?” What does he have to gain by having coffee with me every day?

  “Yes, that was the deal, unless you want to back out from that one too.”

  “No, you should already know I don’t quit. But were you thinking about having coffee at 6 a.m.?”

  “Not now,” he says with a chuckle. “I just wanted to give you a heads up. What time do you leave your place to head to the coffee shop?”

  “How do you know I head to a coffee shop after I leave my house?”

  “Because I know you. I know you get coffee every day before class. I know you don’t make it yourself because it would mean getting up earlier. So, the logical choice is the school café.”

  “How do you know I go to the school café?”

  “Because it’s on the way from your house to class, and I know you like to get to class early.”

  “You are starting to sound like a stalker, Colton.”

  “Not a stalker.”

  “No? Then what would you call yourself? You know how I like my coffee, you know I leave my house early every day to get some. What else do you know?”

  “I know you like to get to class early because you like to mark your territory.”

  “And you say you’re no stalker?” I mutter. I can’t believe he knows so much about me in so little time.

  “I’m just observant.”

  “Do you know this much information about everyone?”

  “No, just those I pay attention to.”

  “Why are you paying attention to me?” I ask, still not believing this is the conversation I’m having at six in the freaking morning.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Seriously?” Don’t worry about it? That has got to be my most hated phrase.

  “So, what time do you leave your house?”

  “Twenty past seven.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  I ask, “At the cafe? Hello? Colton?” But he’s already hung up.

  Stalling no longer, I plug my phone back in and get up from bed. I grab my towel and head over to the bathroom to start my morning routine. I brush my teeth, take a shower, and apply a little makeup—not because I’m going to see Colton, but just because it feels like a makeup kind of day. Then, I comb my hair and lift it into a sort of neat bun. I pick out a pair of light-blue jeans, ankle boots and a light pink sweater. I also grab a coat and a scarf, then switch out the books in my bag.

  By the time I’m done, it’s ten past seven. And since I’d rather be early than late, I decide to leave the house earlier than I’d told Colton I would. En route to the door, I pull my phone from the charger, toss my book bag over my shoulder, and look around the room once more to make sure there’s nothing I’m missing.

  As I step out the door, I’m stunned to find the most handsome man I’ve ever met waiting in my driveway. He’s leaning on the front of his car, his eyes roaming my body hungrily.

  COLTON

  Fuck. I’m done for. My brain is in overdrive as I see Mia. She takes me in from head to toe, and I do the same. She’s beautiful, and I find myself way too attracted to her. So much so that I couldn’t wait the extra fifteen minutes to meet her at the school café. Instead, I came over to her place because it would give us a few more minutes together before we go to class and sit next to each other for a couple of hours.

  Isn’t that stupid? Aren’t I whipped? I’m whipped for sure, because here I stand in the cold just waiting for her to come out. For my girl to come outside and meet me. She may not know it yet, but I do—she’s mine. And after yesterday, the guys know it too.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Good morning to you, too,” I respond with a big-ass smile because I can’t fucking help it. Just being around her brightens my mood.

  “Not a good morning. I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “Too busy thinking of me?” I ask jokingly, though I wish she had been thinking of me because I was thinking about her. I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about her since the first—well second—time I saw her.

  “Too busy being woken up by you.”

  “I pegged you for an early riser; although, after yesterday I should have known better. Still, I didn’t mean to wake you, though it was only two minutes. I figured you’d be up to get ready for class. Don’t girls take hours to get ready?” I ask, making a generalization I know will bring fire to her eyes.

  “No, it doesn’t take me hours to get ready,” she snaps irritably. “Could you stop painting all girls with one brush?”

  When I only smile at her triumphantly, knowing I’ve pushed her buttons, she asks, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m picking you up for our date,” I respond, emphasizing the word date. I’m giving her all the signs other girls would have jumped on weeks ago, but not Mia.

  “I thought I was meeting you at the café,” she says.

  “I thought it would be best to pick you up.”

  She pulls at her sweater down nervously. “Why is that?”

  “Because it’s cold outside.” And I didn’t want my girl to freeze. I break our staring contest
as I move to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her.

  “I’m okay with the cold. I can walk. I do it every day,” she says, getting in.

  “You won’t need to because I’ll be here to pick you up.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because we’ll be going to the café together anyway, so if I pick you up, you can get more sleep and be less cold.”

  “Like I said, I’m okay. Plus, the days when we don’t have coffee together, I’ll have to walk anyway. It doesn’t make a lot of a difference,” she retorts because she can never just agree. She never makes it easy, and I think that’s part of what attracts me to her.

  “Easy solution. We’ll have coffee every day, and I’ll be picking you up,” I reply, closing her door and walking over to the driver’s side with a cocky ass grin because whether she realizes it or not, I’m making her mine.

  15

  I’ve seen Mia every day for coffee since our one and only gym session. Today, I’ve asked her to meet me for lunch too. We’re only eating at school, but I’ll take whatever time I can get with her. I glance at the clock hanging on the wall above the professor’s head and watch the minute hand edge closer to the hour. When we’re finally dismissed, I pack up my things and am first out the door, but I’m drawn to a stop just outside the room when my phone rings.

  It’s Adaline. I don’t call her anything but her first name. There are more fitting names out there for her, but out of self-respect, I refrain from using them. This woman only birthed me—nothing more. That’s the only thing tying me to her, that and…

  “What do you want?” I ask, clutching my phone so hard it creaks.

  “Hello to you too, son,” she replies in her false motherly tone.

  “Do you need something?” I ask, walking toward the dining hall.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. The ladies and I are throwing an event to raise money for at-risk youth,” she says like she actually cares about the problem. If she did, she’d be there for Nick and Kaitlyn, who regularly put themselves in danger just to get her attention.

  “Good for you,” I respond sarcastically, hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

  “You’re coming. It’s this Sunday at six. Your brother will be there too as you’re both young men in college, and we want you to talk to some of the youth.”

  “Can’t. I’m busy.”

  “Clear your schedule,” she bites out.

  “I have homework.”

  “You don’t need brains, sweetheart. Your talent will get you into the NFL. This is important.”

  I can feel my anger rising. “I’m not going.”

  “I’m not asking,” she says before hanging up the phone.

  When I walk into the dining hall, my anger is still riding me hard. I like having control, yet I can’t control my own damn life with Adaline pulling my strings like I’m her fucking puppet. I scan the room for Mia, finding her at a table with all the guys. They’re laughing at something she’s saying, her hands moving animatedly as she retells a joke or a story.

  As I approach, she looks up and seems to instantly sense my bad mood. I sit down beside her, and I can see her staring at me from the corner of my eye. I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thoughts are too consumed with Adaline and her ridiculous demands. I am not at her beck and call.

  I try to push away my anger and instead focus on Mia and the guys. They’re giving her shit because she hasn’t gone to a football game yet. She tells them about her love of professional football, and agrees to maybe watch a game at some point. I pick at my lunch and try to keep up with the rest of the conversation, but my mind is elsewhere. I sense Mia look at me over her shoulder a few times, and I can see the worry written on her face.

  I glance at my phone, checking the time. “Shit.” I look at Mia. “I’ve got to go.”

  “It’s fine,” she replies, looking down at her tray.

  “Can I see you later?”

  Her brows rise. “Three times in one day?”

  If only she knew I’d happily see her every second of the day. “Are you free? We need to figure out how to tackle the assignment.”

  She smiles tentatively. “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  * * *

  After practice finishes, I rush home to shower then go and pick up Mia for our library date. I turn on my car, getting ready to shift it into gear, when my phone starts to ring. The last time I checked my phone, I had three voicemails, five text messages, and four missed calls from Adaline. A quick look down at the screen tells me it’s her again. I ignore the call, but Adaline can be persistent when she wants to, so two missed calls later, she’s still calling. With a growl, I answer the phone, mentally preparing myself for another shitty conversation.

  “Did you cancel your plans?” she asks in lieu of a greeting.

  Good. It’s better this way. At least the conversation will be shorter. “No. I told you I have homework to do,” I lie again.

  “You’ll be there at six tomorrow, Colton.”

  “Did you hear me?” I ask. “I said no, I can’t make it.”

  “It’s sweet that you think you have a choice. You’ll be there at six, and you know the consequences if you don’t show.”

  “I’m not showing,” I respond, calling her bluff. No way she’ll follow through with her threats just because I don’t show up to a staged meet and greet with some kids.

  “You will do whatever I—”

  I cut the call before she can finish. Maybe this is risky, but there’s only so much I can fucking take.

  I drive faster than usual over to Mia’s place. Once again, I’m not in the greatest mood, but I know that seeing her will make it better, even if it’s only temporarily. The moment I pull into her driveway, she comes running out the door with one of those jackets with the furry hoods and goes straight to the passenger side like she has every day since the gym.

  She looks like she belongs in this car with me, and for a second, I can feel my mood begin to lighten.

  Then my phone rings again.

  “You going to pick that up?” Mia asks after a long minute of listening to Adaline’s assigned ringtone.

  “No,” I respond tightly.

  I know she’s calling to threaten me again. To get me to bend to her demands like she always does. I know if I pick it up, I’ll cave because there’s too much at stake.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I lie. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  MIA

  “I’m not in the mood for this,” Colton snaps, slamming his hands on the top of the table. A few people turn our way, but the moment they see Colton, they abandon any thoughts of telling him to shut up.

  “Oh,” I respond, not knowing what else to say, but feeling like I’ve crossed an invisible line. “My bad.” I start gathering up my things that are scattered all over the table. I am not about to stand here and get my ass chewed for suggesting we interview his parents for this assignment instead of mine—the parents I don’t have.

  “No, Mia, wait. I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.”

  “You don’t say. Don’t expect me to disagree.” Maybe I should have stuck to my gut feeling about him. First impressions and all. I jam my notebook into my bag.

  “I don’t.”

  “Colton, your mood has more swings than a playground and I’m no longer a child.” I zip up my bag, throwing it over my shoulder.

  “Fuck,” he says, pulling at his hair. I grab my coat from the back of the chair and start to put it on.

  “We can’t interview my parents.”

  “Why not?” I question while zipping my jacket up.

  “Why can’t we just interview yours?” he says, sounding defeated.

  “Because I don’t have any,” I say in a really low voice. I need to walk away before I say something I regret.

  The breeze hits me the moment I open
the door, the winter air chilling my bones. Thank God, I listened to Kiya and put this coat on. My first New England winter would have been brutal without one. Still, as I walk under the stars, I know the move here was a good choice. I adjust the hood trying my best to shield against the wind.

  I walk in the direction of my apartment, trying to erase from my mind the exchange with Colton. I’m so sick of his changing attitude—first the gym after his friends joined us, then the cafeteria, and now. He can be flirty, funny, and cute one minute, and then lethal the next.

  “Mia, wait up!” I hear him say from behind me, but I keep walking. I’m not wasting my time. “Can you stop walking so fast. I’m trying to talk to you.”

  I don’t slow down. “I was trying to talk to you, too. Remember?” He comes up on my right, matching my every stride.

  “I’m sorry about your parents,” he says and he sounds sincere.

  “Me too,” I respond, because what else am I supposed to say, ‘it’s okay’? Because it’s not. “I’m sorry you’re an asshole,” I add.

  “Me, too,” he says and we both burst out laughing, the earlier tension being blown away by the breeze.

  “What happened to them?”

  “I think you might have multiple personalities.”

  “Most people just see the asshole. You’re one of the lucky ones that get to see all of them.”

  “Lucky me,” I say sarcastically.

  After a beat, he asks, “So, your parents?”

  I give him a sideways glance. He seems adamant in learning more. I turn to face him. “I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.”

  His jaw hardens immediately, the light gray in his eyes turning to a dark metal, and I see his demeanor change, shutting me out like I’ve seen him do to his friends.

  In that split-second, I decide to stop the barrier from separating Colton from me. I can tell whatever he’s hiding has been affecting him. The person he just became before me is the same one I bumped into that night at the club. The guy that walks around like he doesn’t have any emotions, and doesn’t give a fuck about anything. But I can tell there’s more to it. There’s more to him.