TWO - BEFORE

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The rush of relief didn't last long. Outside the apartment block, I realized I had no idea where I was, and I was miles away from anyone or anything familiar. I barely yet knew my way around campus, let alone the surrounding blocks of private housing. Hanna and I had jumped on some kind of shuttle bus near our dorm to get here, but I had no idea how to find one that would take me back, or even if they were still running this late.

I fumbled for my phone, swearing aloud when I noticed the battery bar had crept down to red. At seven percent, I thought I might have enough juice to call an Uber—but when I checked the app, there were no cars available anyway. And I didn't have any cash for a real cab.

Walking was my only option.

I texted Hanna to let her know I was leaving, punched the address into Google Maps, and tried to memorize as much of the route as possible.

At first, I did an okay job of finding my way. But then my phone signal turned patchy, and the blue dot marking my location started leaping around all over the place. I kept having to go back on myself, turning corners and taking tentative steps until the map jumped and I realized I was heading in the wrong direction. I was still fifteen minutes away when the battery died completely. As I stood on a street corner, shivering in the breeze and staring at the black screen, I could no longer hold back the tears.

Stop crying, Morgan, I told myself furiously. Could you make yourself look any more of a target right now? But as quickly as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, more spilled over. My mascara was running too; I could see the evidence on my black-smeared fingers.

I started walking again, sniffing hard in an effort to pull myself together. I was supposed to be a college student, independent now; the least I could do was pretend. So I held my head high, walking with false purpose, as if I was sure of both myself and where I needed to be.

And it worked, for a while. At least until I heard the car behind me.

This wasn't a notoriously unsafe area; in fact, the leafy suburban setting and small-town feel was part of the reason Davidson had appealed to me in the first place. That and the fact it was only an hour's drive from home. Obviously I had to be careful, but I could take comfort in the lack of daily robberies and assaults like in some other student cities.

Still, that car definitely wasn't a good sign.

I was scared to look back, like this would cement my selection as a target—though the continuous rumble of the engine and slow rolling of the tires gave away that this car was not about to pass me by. All I could do was keep walking. Head high, toes blistering, and praying that I would somehow make it out of this unscathed.

"Hey."

My heart lurched as the male voice sounded behind me, and I quickened my pace as much as I could without breaking into a run. Maybe, by some stroke of a miracle, if I blanked him, he'd get bored and give up.

"Hey!" It came louder this time—although it didn't sound as scary as I expected. There was a softness to the voice that made me reconsider the threat of him pulling a bag over my head and bundling me into the truck. Still, better safe than sorry.

He didn't say anything more, which came as a relief. But then the engine revved and he pulled up right beside me. The Chevy truck's rolled-down passenger window was at eye level.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The guy leaned across from the driver's side to look at me. "This really isn't as creepy as it might seem. I just noticed you looked a bit upset... and I wondered if maybe you needed some help?"

It was enough to make me pause, then turn my head for a quick glance. He was young, no older than college age, with a head of wavy, light-brown hair that swept over his forehead. He wore a denim jacket over a plain white T-shirt. I couldn't deny that he was attractive—but obviously, I wasn't about to let this have any bearing on the whole can-I-trust-this-random-stranger? thing.

"I'm Josh," he offered, when I didn't say anything. "I'm a sophomore at Davidson. Are you a student there?"

I hesitated before nodding. "I'm just on my way home. I'm fine."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, no offence intended here, but you don't look fine."

"It's just not been the best night," I said, wiping my eyes again, though I was probably smearing more mascara all over my cheeks. "I don't need any help. Honestly."

He held up one hand in defense, the other still on the steering wheel. "And I am totally not trying to force some knight-in-shining-armor thing on you right now," he said. "If you're fine, that's fine. But if having a ride home would help make this night slightly less shitty... then that's fine, too. The offer's there."

I was going to say no. Really, I was. Getting into a car with a total stranger went against pretty much every piece of advice I'd been given throughout my entire life, not to mention the specific instructions my parents had drilled into me before move-in day. He could've been anyone. Where was the proof that he was telling the truth? That he was a student here, like he said? That his name was actually Josh?

It was like he read my mind. "Here," he said, picking up something from the dash and holding it out to me. It was a Davidson University parking permit. Complete with the vehicle description, license plate, and full name: Josh Drew Kelley. It didn't prove anything about his character, nor his intentions—Josh Drew Kelley, sophomore, could still be a total creep—but somehow his smile reassured me. "So, you want the ride?"

A moment's pause. Then, the relief came out in a long exhale. "That would be great, actually. If you're offering."

"And I am." There was a click as he unlocked the doors, and I reached for the passenger side handle. "Hop in."

Inside, the truck was clean: a surprise, considering the battered exterior. There were no piles of CDs or leftover takeout bags. Not even a tacky air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. I sank into the well-worn leather, starting to fasten my seatbelt as he looked over at me. "Where do you need to go?"

"Willard Hall. On campus."

"Sure," he said, shifting into gear and pulling back onto the street. It didn't take long to pick up speed, and we sailed through the first set of green traffic lights before he added, "You know, there's a bit of an imbalance here. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

I didn't say anything. As genuine as he seemed, I wasn't sure how much information it was wise to share. Although, when I thought about it, did it even matter now he knew where I lived? What else could I give away?

He cut in before I could decide either way. "Feel totally free to give me a fake one, if I'm giving off too much of a creepy vibe," he said. I couldn't work out whether he was joking or not. "We'll part ways and I'll never know the difference. But it feels weird without something to call you."

"It's Morgan."

He nodded contentedly. "Good to meet you, Morgan."

For a while, we drove in silence; I didn't really know what to say, and this felt like a level of small talk well beyond what I'd had to endure in the dorm lounge. If anything, I probably looked like a complete weirdo: the physical embodiment of not having my shit together. But, remarkably, it didn't seem to faze him.

"So, you're in a dorm, huh? I'm guessing that makes you a freshman."

I was thrown off by how casual he sounded. "Uh, yeah, I am."

"So you can't have been here long at all," he continued. "This must be one of your first nights at Davidson, right?"

I hardly felt like reliving it, but I didn't want to be rude. He seemed nice, and was doing me a favor; the least I could do was switch friendly and approachable back on for a little longer. "The first," I said quietly. "And, as you can probably tell, it wasn't a success."

He chuckled. "Oh, I've seen worse."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not!" He smiled. "Honestly. Anybody who's spent a year at college has seen some shit. Walking home in tears is definitely not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. If that makes you feel any better."

I thought about it. "It kind of does, actually."

"I mean," he went on, "I'm not about to ask what it was that caused the tears, because I don't think that'd be fun for either of us. But trust me when I say we've all been there—especially after a couple of drinks." He paused. "Though you seem very sober. Which means either you're not drunk... or you're very good at hiding it."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "The first one. I'm not a big drinker."

"No? Not your thing?"

I shook my head, choosing my next words carefully. "Not really. One bad experience, and it kind of put me off for good."

He nodded like he understood, even though I'd purposely kept my answer vague enough to make sure he never would. The image was probably already in his mind: me going overboard at a party, ending the night with my head in a toilet and somebody holding back my hair. Because that was what a bad experience usually meant, wasn't it? A temporary—albeit unpleasant—hangover, but certainly no lasting damage.

"Sometimes I think it would be easier if I did get drunk out of my mind," I said. "It would've made tonight more bearable, for a start."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him glancing over, studying me. I kept my eyes on the road, trying to ignore the feeling that I was under a spotlight.

"What everyone says about college... it doesn't have to be true, you know." He paused. "How this is some big chance to completely reinvent yourself. It's okay to stay the same person, too."

My silence seemed to prompt him to continue.

"Everyone puts so much pressure on those first few weeks," he went on, "but for what? Can anyone really keep faking it for four years straight? The truth comes out sooner or later, so you might as well be upfront about it."

Now, I found it in me to make eye contact. "What makes you think I'm trying to reinvent myself?"

I watched as his gaze drifted back to the road, leaving me with the view of his profile. Chiseled features, defined brow bone, square jaw. Intimidating and attractive at the same time. "I don't know," he said, after a pause. "The dark lipstick, the fancy shoes. Don't get me wrong, you look great... but you also don't look quite like yourself."

"We literally just met," I pointed out. "You don't know what I normally look like."

"No, I don't. But... somehow, I know this isn't it." He stopped, as if hearing his words for real for the first time, then pulled a face. "That sounded really weird, didn't it?"

"A little," I said, but I found myself smiling.

We were on campus now; Josh had eased his foot off the gas to accommodate the speed limit, and we cruised past the darkened buildings with plenty of time to spare. Past the ornate, pillared student center that featured on the cover of every school brochure; the stretch of lawnmower-lined grass that was the centerpiece of campus; the much less pretty multi-storey parking lots. When my dorm building came into view, and Josh hit the blinker to turn in, I actually felt a pang of disappointment. For the first time that night, the thought of heading up to my room and crawling into bed wasn't all that appealing.

"So," Josh said, shutting off the engine and plunging us into silence. "This is you."

"This is me," I said, unclipping my seatbelt. "Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it."

"Good. Because I'll have you know, going ten minutes out of my way was a real inconvenience. You owe me big time."

In a strange turn of events, I couldn't seem to stop smiling. "I'm serious."

His expression softened. "Morgan, it's fine. Seriously. Just... have a better rest of the night, okay?"

"I'll try. Thanks again."

I climbed out of the car and shut the door behind me. The noise echoed across the silent campus, overlaying the quiet rumble of his engine. He stayed there while I walked up to the front door of my building, fumbled in my bag for the key, and paused with the door half open for one last glance over my shoulder.

Through the windscreen, our eyes met, and I felt a rush of exhilaration run through me.

Looking back, I wonder if I knew it then: that that moment would change everything.

I'm still not sure even now.

But, like I said, things could've been so different.

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And there we have it: Chapter Two! Plus, our first glimpse of Josh, who I'm sure you've guessed will be a pretty major character from here on out.

I'm really intrigued to know what you're thinking—about Josh, Morgan, everything you've seen so far—so be sure to drop a comment below! I'm making a real effort to reply to comments and I'd love to discuss it all with you guys. It's been a while since I posted regularly on Wattpad and the interactivity is my favourite part.

So, you've seen BEFORE, and in the next chapter, you'll get your first look at AFTER, which is set to shake things up a bit...

See you Friday!

- Leigh