Somewhere in Between

ii. the college try

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OLIVIA

I've always hated the cold.

Costa Rica. That's where my friends were at right now. On vacation. Teasing me. Photos clogged our groupchat of striking teal colored waters, pretty sunsets and bikini clad bodies lying beachside at their resort with messages directed at me reading 'miss you livvy, wish you were here!!!' although I'd learned to read between the lines a long time ago.

A translation would go something like; 'Look at what you're missing out on. Still think you should've left?'

All while I walked alone down the walkway of the sprawled quad on my college campus, literally able to see my breath as I glance down at my phone.

Duke was kinda pretty, I guess. I'm talking breathtaking stonework of each castle-like academic building, cobblestone pathways surrounded by well maintained gardens, currently muted green from the frost coating the air. It'd be nice to come out here in the spring when everything was blooming.

I'd have admired it if I wasn't freezing my ass off right now. Emphasis on my ass—because while the wool leather jacket I wore was cropped and super warm, it ended just above the belt of my jeans. Jeans. They were a problem. I seriously needed thermals under these jeans. It was 20 degrees right now and I was wearing jeans like a dumb bitch.

The smallest sliver of tanned skin my fitted turtleneck didn't reach at my waist was exposed when I didn't hold my oversized jacket closed and I swear I'm not being dramatic, but when the wind hit my bare skin—or just my bottom half in general—it chilled me to the fucking bone.

Instead of lounging on a white-sand beach I'm here. Being gawked at as I pass ongoing students. Freezing. Attending lectures. Taking shit already from my Business Econ Professor—my first class of the day who's just assumed I don't have a brain because of how I got here. All before it even hit 11am.

"My, you've got such a pretty face, haven't you?" My professor flashed me a sardonic smile that had me narrowing my eyes. "Bet it gets you anything you want."

"If you say so," I retort, resisting the urge to grit my teeth.

"I don't care who you are," he leans to the side to glance at the laptop sitting on his desk. Sneering, "you won't get any special treatment from me, Miss Abrams. In my class you'll work as hard as everyone else."

He was trying to intimidate me. Holding me back after class trying to exert his authority over me. He thought he was better than me. Pretentious prick. Some other nepo baby must've hurt him, because why the hell was he that bitter?

I'm not going to lie, I half expected him to tell me get on my knees the way the conversation started.

I'd experienced the situation enough times to know how it goes. My pilates instructor. Alissa's older, pervy photographer friend who she lets follow her—sorry—us around all day everyday to snap her picture. One of my dad's work colleagues. My old personal trainer. Tyler's agent slash best friend.

Documenting my current suffering, I raise my phone up to take a selfie, giving the camera a gloved middle finger and sending it along with a nice fuck you guys in the group chat as a response. It never got this cold in California and they all knew how much I hated it.

There was movement a little too close in my peripheral vision, and the deep clearing of a throat had me very slowly looking up from my phone.

I have to tilt my head to meet the gaze of what looks like a body builder that's stopped at my side. Too big was the first thought that came to mind. The Northface puffer jacket he wore didn't do him any favors—well, in my opinion. He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, like he's trying to impress me.