anging from her shoulder, the wheels of her suitcase clacking behind her as she crossed the quad. Her jeans clung to her legs, her white blouse already sticking to h
e muttered under her breath, g
o blend in. She was he
, the whispers, and the suffocating small-town expectations had worn her down like desert wind on sandstone. She was the girl who never went
bout her mom's drinking. Or the fire. Or how a seventeen-ye
As someone bright. Someone
nd a building that looked like it hadn't been updated s
the door before
ady pinned up, and a pile of throw pillows in every possi
turned with a squeal. "You must be my roomie!
ked. "Uh, hi.
t to make memories with you. You're gonna love it here-except, heads up, steer clear of f
linked aga
he whirlwind that was Bia
ed a coveted spot as a junior contributor after sending in a five-part investigative series on local corruption
ned the
oss legend, bad boy, and the university's most controversial legacy
nah s
rch bar. Within seconds, a casca
eir Gone Wild" and "Scandal in the Saddle" dominated the results. One article mentioned how he wrecked a $50,000
and close
er the spoiled rich kid with too many fa
-
alone on a bench near the motocro
bleachers was already thick-sorority girls in cutoffs, guys in jerseys, faculty pretendin
e center
i
hen he walked by. The way the other riders looked at him-not with camaraderie b
all, lea
tepped off his bike and sauntered
e was like molasses and gasoline-sm
th The Hornet. I'm supp
s?" He smirked and sat down beside her without waiting for an
," she said, h
ey're exh
e, undeclared major, motocross star, heir to Call
his head,
assuming the answer. You know-'Daddy's money'
his gaze. "
r maybe I just like the speed. The noise. The fa
honest than
tted i
sked, leaning a little
bbo
untry girl. Exp
er foot unde
re pra
am
e him. "Are you a
arm
eara
e it was loud, but because it was real. For
ment, that t
tebook. "I've got
t staying
got ho
head. "Well, I'll be sure to dedicate my
before he coul
-