9

QUINN

I’m shoving the last of my clothes into a drawer when I hear a knock, glancing in the direction of the open door of the room in the squad dorms where I’m getting settled in. Brooke’s there leaning against the doorframe, dressed in ripped up jeans and a Journey t-shirt, a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets when I turn to look at her, adjusting her black framed glasses on the bridge of her nose. “How are you settling in?”

“Good,” I breathe, closing the open dresser drawer with my hip. I’ve already filled the dresser with all of the clothes I brought along. I straighten, waving Brooke inside with a hand. “Come on in!”

She does, crossing the room and sinking down onto the edge of the bed, looking around. “This used to be my room, you know,” she says fondly.

“Really?” I stride over to join her on the bed, perching on the edge beside her. I’ve still got my leggings and sports