Chapter 1

Emilie

I'm alive, but I wish I were dead.

Are there many freshmen in college who feel the same way?

I pull my towel tighter around my body as I continue my walk down the street with tears in my eyes. There are no clothes to cover my skin or shoes to protect my feet as I walk over the wet asphalt.

I'm close to tears, but I won't let them fall. This isn't anyone's fault but my own. Why did I go to that stupid pool party? How did I, for a second, think things would be different tonight?

I'm so angry at myself! I shouldn't have let my guard down! I shouldn't have smiled when I received an invite to the party hosted by the cool girls. The girls just invited me so they could make fun of me for having selective mutism!

They told me they had a swimsuit to borrow, and after I undressed, they stole my clothes. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there while they laughed and said, "Isn't she pathetic? No matter how we treat her, she won't fight back! What a freak. Jesus, Emilie. How will you survive in the real world if you can't talk?!"

Laughter followed, and my anxiety grew until I couldn't handle it and ran. Now I'm here, out on the street, while searching for a house with its porchlight on. My student apartment is miles away, and my best chance is to find a home where people are still awake.

I turn my head, freezing when I notice a house with its lights on in the kitchen—this is my chance!

I fasten my pace, running until I'm standing right outside a white, luxurious door with its half-dead Christmas wreath still hanging on it. I'm not sure who lives here, but that doesn't matter. I knock on the door once, wait a full minute, and then knock again...and again.

"I'm coming! Stop it before you knock the fucking door down!"

Uh-uh. I immediately recognize the voice and shrink into my skin when the door opens to reveal Brandon Brooks—the son of Clinton Brooks, the billionaire. The light behind him makes him look like a tattooed angel. His blonde hair and broad shoulders are perfectly caught in the light, but he doesn't look one bit happy...he seems more confused...?

"Hello?" he asks. "Uhh...where are you?"

I clear my throat. "Look down."

"Look, do—" he blinks when he sees me. "Oh... It's you, the loser," it looks like he would rather be anywhere else. There is a frown on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I...I..." I have no idea what to say. I'm nervous, and due to my selective mutism, it's harder to find words when anxious. I can tell it annoys the crap out of Brandon, who sighs.

"Look, I find it really sweet that you have a crush on me. I'm...flattered. But you're not really my type, so please, turn around and—" He trails off and suddenly cocks his head to the side, eyeing me with widening eyes. "Wait, where the hell are your clothes?! Did you come out here to seduce me? What the actual fuck, man!"

"N-no, that's not—"

"I swear girls are worse than men these days...such manipulative predators, man..." Brandon mutters before grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the hallway.

I'm so stunned that I swear my heart stops beating for a full minute. What is even happening right now? I blink up at Brandon in confusion when he closes the door behind me.

"What? Why are you staring?!" His nostrils flare.

"I...I wasn't staring..."

"Sure you weren't...fuck. I swear you're more dangerous than you look. You came here half-naked and shivering, probably knowing damn well that I wouldn't let you freeze to death out there. Well, are you happy now?!" He shakes his head in disbelief. "It's always the quiet ones that are the secret masterminds..."

Since I'm unsure of what to do, I awkwardly follow Brandon. He mutters to himself, and I slow my pace to keep some distance. I don't think he is going to trick me like the girls did, and neither do I believe he will physically hurt me, but he is still scary.

"I'm assuming you want a hot shower," he opens a drawer, takes out a dry towel, and throws it at my chest. My heart flips when I catch it since the towel wrapped around my chest slips down until it lands by my feet.

No! Please don't look at me, please don't—

Brandon follows the motion, staring at my naked body in stunned silence. How embarrassing! I hastily press the dry towel to my chest to hide my breasts and hardened nipples.

Did Brandon see everything?

I lift my chin, freezing when he snorts. "I don't understand why you're blushing. There really wasn't much to see."

Ouch. Brandon's jab hurt, but he isn't wrong: I'm short and skinny, and there isn't a single curve on my body. I wasn't as blessed as the other girls in my school...

I stare down at the floor, praying Brandon won't ask me why I'm not defending myself. The truth? I don't see the point. I'm shy. I hate talking to people, and...he isn't wrong...so why should I answer?

To my surprise, Brandon doesn't comment on my silence and instead opens the bathroom door for me. "Anyway, go take a hot shower. I will set up the couch for you."

Oh my god, is he really going to let me stay over?!

Happiness blooms in my chest, and my sense of logic flies out through the window. It's the only explanation for what happens next: I hug Brandon. I fully wrap my arms around him, the top of my head barely reaching up to his pecs.

"Wh-what are you doing, you psychopath—"

"Thank you," I whisper into his hoodie. He smells like detergent, and I'm actually shocked by how much bigger than me he is. But...I'm not scared. Brandon has saved my life.

"I...uhhh..." He sighs heavily in defeat but doesn't hug me back. Instead, he glances away with a strange expression, muttering, "You're welcome...now, will you please stop hugging me?"

"R-right!"

I immediately back up from him and lift my eyes to his face. He is still refusing eye contact, which probably means I should get inside the bathroom before he throws me out of his home. I don't think he appreciated the hug as much as I did.

"I-I will enter the shower now," I say in a low tone, proud of myself for managing to speak at all. I'm all flustered. "C-cya soon!"

I shut the door before Brandon can respond, my chest heaving with each heavy breath that I take. Why did I hug him? He will probably send a Snap to everyone on his friendlist with the caption, "Hugged by the loser at our school. How do I check myself for diseases?"

It honestly wouldn't surprise me. And since Brandon is the most popular guy on campus, the girls will probably laugh and find another reason to bully me. It wouldn't surprise me. No one treats me kindly...maybe I really am a pathetic loser.