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Seeds of Love (University of Mountain Springs #1) BONUS chapter 100%
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BONUS chapter

THE FIRST NIGHT – ALEX POV

“I can't believe you talked me into this,” I mutter, tugging at the hem of my top. It feels too tight, too... everything. It's currently approaching midnight and I'm in Tara's dorm room, surrounded by what seems like her entire wardrobe strewn across every available surface.

After an hour of trying on outfits that made me want to crawl into a hole and die, we finally settled on this: a simple black tank top with a subtle ruffle at the bottom.

“Hmm, looks better on you. Keep it.” Tara says.

It's the most boring thing in her extensive collection. Still, it’s beyond generous that she’s giving it to me. The easy gesture of friendship makes me feel awkward.

“Stop fidgeting!” Tara swats my hand away from the hem. “You look hot. Besides, you can't spend your entire freshman year holed up in your dorm reading environmental journals.”

The cheap wine we've been sipping while getting ready has taken the edge off my nerves, just enough that I'm actually enjoying this strange ritual of female friendship. The 2000s playlist Tara insists is ‘essential party prep music’ blares from her speakers, and despite myself, I'm having fun. It's new territory for me—this whole “getting ready with a friend” thing—but I like it. I’m sort of nervous to like it too much, in case Tara realizes I’m actually really strange and this whole thing is just a blip in my memory.

“Fine,” I concede, “but the ponytail stays.” I touch my hair protectively when I catch her eyeing it.

She sighs dramatically, but I can tell she's not really annoyed. “At least let me do your makeup? And promise you'll try to have fun?” Her eyes light up as she grabs her phone. “Look, I found Troy's roommates on Instagram and oh my god, Alex, they're like walking thirst traps.”

She shoves her phone in my face, but I push it away, anxiety bubbling up again in my stomach. “What if everyone can tell I don't belong there?”

Tara stops mid-mascara application to look at me. “Hey. You belong wherever you want to belong. That's what college is about.”

Right. New start. Alexandria Ford 2.0: now with actual social skills and friends who drag her to parties. I take another sip of wine, hoping it'll help me believe it.

“Besides,” she continues, “I’m there with you. I won’t leave without you, and you won’t leave without me ok. We’ll stick together, deal?”

“Deal.” I find myself smiling despite my nerves. Having a friend who wants to look out for me, stick with me, is still new to me—like a gift I'm afraid I'll break if I hold it too tight.

I fiddle with Emma's pendant, the silver leaf cool against my fingers. What would she think of me now? Probably laugh at how nervous I am about a simple college party. She was always so brave, diving into life headfirst while I calculated risks from the shore.

“Alex?” Tara's voice breaks through my thoughts. “You went somewhere else for a minute there.”

“Just thinking about my cousin,” I admit. “She would have loved you.”

Tara's face softens. “I’m sorry Alex. I’m sure I would have loved her too. What was she like?”

“She was...” I swallow hard. “She was like you, actually. Never afraid to be herself. Always dragging me on adventures.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was.” I straighten my shoulders, “Okay. Let's do this.”

“That's my girl!” Tara links her arm through mine. “This is going to be so awesome.”

The party's already in full swing when we arrive. Music thrums through the floorboards of the old house, and the scent of beer and cheap cologne invades my nostrils.

“We're late,” I hiss to Tara.

“We're fashionably late,” she corrects, pulling me through the door to the kitchen. “Nobody cool shows up on time.”

I want to point out that I've never been cool a day in my life, but the words don’t make it up in my throat as we enter the living room. There are so many people. Too many people.

“I need a drink,” I mutter.

“Now you're talking!” Tara beams.

“TARA!” A deep voice booms over the music. A guy who can only be Troy appears—he and Tara share the same perfect blonde hair and perfect smile, though his is currently more concerned than bright.

“Did you eat before coming? There's pizza in the kitchen,” he says, reaching to ruffle Tara's hair. “And remember to drink water between drinks, okay? Text me when you're ready to leave—I don't want you walking home alone.”

Tara ducks away from his hand, but I catch her fighting a smile. “Oh my god, Troy. We're fine. We're not going to die of dehydration or get murdered walking home.”

His eyes shift to me, warming with recognition. “You must be Alex! Tara said she was bringing a friend.” He grins at his sister. “Nice to see you making actual friends instead of just staying in your room watching those weird documentaries.”

“At least I have better hobbies than staring at myself in the gym mirror,” Tara shoots back, but there's obvious affection in her voice. “Don't you have some girls to bore with your chat up lines or something?”

I hide a smile, watching their dynamic. It's sweet how protective Troy is, even if it clearly drives Tara nuts.

“Just looking out for you,” Troy says. “Oh, and stay away from Ethan, okay? He's already three shots down and looking for drinking buddies.”

Troy guides Tara into the kitchen, and someone presses a beer into my hand. I take a sip without thinking and grimace—it's warm and tastes like bread that's gone off. Still, maybe it'll give me some liquid courage. I'm about to follow when I lose sight of them in the crowd heading into the living room, where a poster of Einstein sticking his tongue out seems oddly out of place among the sports memorabilia and band posters.

“I'm wounded, Troy!” A voice calls out dramatically. “Telling pretty girls to stay away from me?”

A tall guy with strawberry blonde hair appears, pouting his lower lip out. He's gorgeous in that undeniable way that seems to be a prerequisite for all the guys living here—perfect teeth, carefully styled hair, and an ego I can sense from three feet away.

“I'm Ethan,” he says, giving me a surprisingly charming grin. “Troy's much cooler, significantly better-looking roommate. And you are...?”

“Alex,” I manage, my voice smaller than I'd like.

“Alex,” he repeats, like he's testing how it sounds. “Well, Alex, what do you say to a drinking game? Show Troy here that I'm not the bad influence he thinks I am.”

“Oh, I don't really?—”

“Come on,” he cuts me off, already grabbing two new red cups. “It's called 'Never Have I Ever.' You know how to play, right?”

I do know how to play, actually. I haven't ever played before but I've seen movies. I also know I'll lose spectacularly given my limited life experience. But before I can formulate an excuse, he's shoving a cup into my hands.

“Actually,” I say, finding my voice, “I think I need some air. I'll be back in a minute, Tar.”

“Aw, don't be like that, little dude!” Ethan calls after me, but I'm already pushing through the crowd toward what I hope is the back door.

I hear Tara saying something sharp to him but I don't stick around to find out what. The mass of bodies parts just enough for me to spot a sliding glass door. Freedom.

The cool night air hits my face as I step onto the back porch, and I take my first real breath since arriving. Stars peek through the clouds above, and the steady chirp of crickets almost drowns out the bass thumping from inside.

This is more my speed. Maybe I can just hide out here all night, counting constellations and?—

My eyes catch on a patch of flowers near the porch steps, barely visible in the dim light. But I'd recognize those tall purple spikes anywhere—Rocky Mountain Bee Plants. And there, scattered among them like tiny suns, Blanket Flowers nod in the breeze. Someone actually took the time to plant native species here. Most people would see weeds, but I see a carefully planned habitat for our local pollinators.

I'm considering going closer to check for any late-season bees when movement in the front yard catches my attention. A tall guy—definitely over six feet—is supporting what appears to be a very drunk freshman.

The taller one moves with a kind of grace despite basically carrying dead weight. Something about the way he handles the situation makes me pause.

Instead of laughing or filming it for social media like most guys would, he's... taking care of the drunk kid. Getting him water. Talking to him quietly. Even ordering him an Uber.

I watch as he helps the swaying freshman into the car, handling him with surprising gentleness. There's something almost sweet about it, though I immediately feel creepy for thinking that about a stranger.

When the car pulls away, the guy picks up an abandoned cup—probably belonging to the drunk freshman. What happens next makes my nose wrinkle in disgust. He actually takes a sip of the warm, abandoned beer. The immediate regret on his face is almost comical as he spits it out into the bushes.

“Ergh,” I hear him mutter, and I can't help the small sound of agreement that escapes me.

He spins around, finally noticing me lurking in the shadows like some kind of party-phobic gremlin. Great. This is exactly how I wanted to meet someone—watching him spit out beer while I hide from a strawberry blonde god-like man and his drinking games.

“Didn't see you there,” he says, and something in his voice makes my stomach flip.

Oh no, I think. He's hot. Like, really freakin’ hot.

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