Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“Apparently…” she whispers. “Ben is coming here.”
I short-circuit. “Ben?”
She nods.
“My cousin? That Ben?” I whisper back. It makes zero sense, even if he’s a student here. It’s a big college. We rarely run into each other on campus. Why would he track me down? He could’ve just texted.
I can’t inquire further.
The empty seat beside me, usually reserved for Quinn, is filled by a six-foot-five collegiate jock. My cousin. He does not go unnoticed.
Several girls intake sharp breaths like a son of Zeus just dropped from the sky. However, the guys seem less than impressed.
Carson crosses his arms and cocks back in the office chair. “Drop/add period ended a while back, man. How’d you pull strings to get in here?”
“Does he need to pull any strings?” Stassi asks, lowering the screen of her MacBook. She tries to capture Ben’s gaze, but he’s busy rifling through his gym bag. “His dad is Penn legacy.”
Jeffra chokes on disbelief. “No, Wyatt’s class is the Fort Knox of classes. He wouldn’t have let a Cobalt slither their way in.” She says Cobalt like it’s a disease.
“Are you broken?” Stassi whisper-hisses to her. “The Cobalts are—”
“I grew up in the same neighborhood as them, Stas. They’re nothing special. Especially that one. He’s a knockoff of a knockoff.”
I blister. Great, now Jeffra is throwing stones at my family.
Ben has a thousand-yard stare, pausing briefly in his hunt for…a water bottle. It’s decaled in environmental stickers, some puns like I be-leaf in you. That one might be more Winona’s doing. Though I heard they’re not as close since Ben went to college.
He shoves the gym bag at his feet. “It’s not some elaborate scheme,” he tells the class. “I’ve been enrolled in the course since the beginning of the semester. I just haven’t been able to attend in person.” He acknowledges me next to him with a smile and the lift of his fingers in greeting and tells me, “I had to get some practice times rescheduled with my coach.”
I smile back, but I’m still orbiting a mysterious planet. Why are you here?
“How are you not failing?” Carson asks, dumbfounded.
Ben doesn’t answer that.
Jeffra grinds her jaw. “If Wyatt is letting you turn in assignments by email, that’s blatantly unfair.”
I wish one of them would ask the important question.
Why is he here????
Since when does Ben even care about Television and New Media? Last I heard, he hadn’t declared a major, but I doubt he’d choose communications. Then again, I can’t be so sure. What if he struck a friendship with a We Are Calloway producer and became interested in TV?
He could have a secret desire. He’s always been social and friendly, but that doesn’t equate to being an open book. I’ve run into plenty of students on campus who’d swear they’re good friends with Ben, but if I quizzed them on his favorite things, I wonder if they could even accurately list five without scouring the internet for answers.
Maybe Ben has a knack for letting others skim the surface of him and they believe they’ve reached the core—but they’re not even two-inches deep.
Ben doesn’t give Jeffra Yankton the time of day. It irks her, which only makes me smile, and Ben shares it with me. He’s sweet. That’s what most in our family say about Ben.
He’s sweet and daring and outgoing.
Of what I’ve witnessed from the mock panel and overheard from Winona and Vada and been told by Xander, my Spidey-senses are saying that is not the entirety of my cousin. Maybe not even one-half of him.
Which makes me wonder…who’s even seen the entire iceberg of Ben Cobalt?
He’s more of a mystery to me than Charlie these days.
He runs his fingers through the wet strands of his hair. Did he just finish hockey practice? Did he take a shower afterwards? More questions.
I’m about to ask one when Wyatt Rochester saunters to the podium, a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “Someone parked in my spot this morning. The bakery ran out of the last pain au chocolat—so I was forced to go to Starbucks. If one of you would like to ruin my day further, you can head out now because I’m not dealing with it.” He scans the length of the class, and his brows jump when he stops on Ben. “Look who’s finally decided to grace us with their magnanimous presence.” He pauses. “Mr. Cobalt.” It’s a cold greeting. “And here I thought you were trying to flunk out on purpose.”
Ohhhhh. So he is failing this class. Why didn’t he drop it when he had the chance during drop/add?
“Sorry about that,” Ben says with a polite hand raise. “Coach wouldn’t let me out of practice, and you don’t take sports exemptions—but I reworked it. Everything should be fine now.”
“You’ll have to ace every exam and turn in all your assignments to even pass. But if you think that’s fine…” He frees his hands to applaud. “Way to lower the Cobalt standards.”