When she uncovers his plan to lead an entirely uneventful life, Mia Evian is determined to teach Preston Maddox how to stop living like a ghost, but Mia and Preston have history, tension, and a lot of complicated feelings.
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Despite my desperate attempts to avoid it, it turns out becoming an adult is inevitable.
A gap year wasn't my idea, it was Aiden's. Obviously. I had no idea what to study at uni, so I thought giving myself a year to figure that out would be enough. Besides, I could've hardly turned down my best friend of fifteen years when he asked me to accompany him on the biggest adventure ever, right?
Turns out I still have no idea what to study, but the decision hasn't waited for me, so I've settled on English. It's the kind of degree a lot of people settle on, I think.
There was no decision to be made by Aiden. He'd wanted to study Psychology from day one, and he'd deferred his offer from Cardiff Uni to take the gap year. He had it all mapped out. I, on the other hand, manically applied to wherever would take me while struggling for Wi-Fi in our crappy, overpriced New Zealand hostel.
I never actually thought I'd get into UCL, even with some help on the inside.
I'd happily repeat mine and Aiden's year touring the Southern Hemisphere forever, but I also feel like I've aged about ten years over the course of one. In trying to avoid adulthood, we somehow fell headfirst into it because it turns out living and working halfway across the world on a low budget demands a lot of responsibility.
Uni will be a walk in the park, right?
Mum dropped me off at my accommodation half an hour ago, and I've spent every minute since staring at my unpacked bags. I figure I'll get around to them eventually.
Each student assigned to our flat found one another online through some meet and greet Facebook group UCL set up, so I know nobody else is moving in for another few days. It was totally intentional; I want a few days alone to get my shit together.
Besides, it's not like I don't know anyone in London.
I'm still staring at the piles of unpacked items when my phone starts turning warm in my pocket. It's all in my head—my phone's not overheating—but my fingers are twitching as I try to resist temptation.
I don't want things to be weird—I don't want to make things weird, and sending a text within moments of me arriving in London feels weird. Instead, I continue ignoring the mountain of stuff I need to organise, and head outside to explore the streets of Central London.
I end up in a cafe, and in true English student style, it's one attached to a cosy bookshop. I've got a bunch of uni registration tasks to get through, so with nothing but a hot chocolate and a croissant to keep me company, I find a small table in the corner of the bright cafe.
It turns out I may be worse at being a mature, independent student than I thought. No matter how many times I click the connect button on my laptop screen, the WiFi is non-existent.
'You've got to accept the terms and conditions,' a voice suddenly pipes up, and I turn from my screen to meet the eyes of the blue-haired girl sitting at the table beside me. 'They've royally fucked up by making the text and checkbox one shade lighter than the background.'
