Sweet as Syn

6: SYN-Passion Fruit Mojitos

Despite the whole threesome, running home at four a.m., getting locked out of my dorm ordeal, this weekend was fun. I was surprisingly relaxed and ready for my sports medicine exam, and when I submitted it online, I got an automatic score of one hundred. My first college exam and I got a perfect score! And it was weirdly easy compared to all the in-depth stuff I over studied.

I was too young to achieve anything for my parents to see, and I know it's sad, but I look up after each little achievement and imagine them being excited for me. But other than the non-existent thumbs up I like to get from Mom and Dad, I'm quiet about my successes. Well, I guess I'm pretty quiet about everything. But I think I'm going to tell Greyson since I think he'll be relieved I didn't fail because of him.

I'm groggy after getting no sleep and sitting in the exam hall for two hours, so when I walk out and see a quick movement and a bunch of big bodies pop out from the shadows, I nearly have an aneurysm. I close my eyes and get ready to fight, dropping my bag and lifting my arms, but then I realize it's broad daylight and I'm surrounded by students. I peel my eyes open and am a little mortified to see four amused faces staring down at me.

Greyson bends down, retrieves my bag, and places it over my shoulder. "Get used to having us on your tail, little one." It wasn't a suggestion, but an order. He doesn't like that I've got my guard up so high.

"So..." Hunter asks.

"How'd it go?" Cameron questions.

"I got a hundr—eeeep!" I squeal when Brooklyn closes in and tosses me over his shoulder. I'm met with fist bumps and head pats by the other three, like we're long-lost buddies and this is just what we do. God, my heart feels so full it threatens to burst.

I'm placed back on my feet, but before I had the chance to turn red over all the bystanders gawking, Greyson was in my face. "You a good driver?"

"Are you?" I bite back, and that response seems to satisfy him based on his hooded eyes and lax smirk.

Truth is, I've only driven my uncle's rusty pickup when he was too unconscious to notice. Elias taught me to drive when I was eight, right before he left for college, because I think he knew I'd have no one to teach me by the time I was of legal age. So, yeah. I've got lots of years of experience.

"We have to get to practice, but here are the keys to my truck. Go sleep at our place. I promised you fifteen hours and fifteen hours you shall get." He presses his keys into my hand.

I blink up at him a few times. "Are you serious?" I ask, a little baffled.

He looks furious at me for questioning him, but does something really cute, and lifts his hand to pinch my cheek. "I don't like to repeat myself. But I'll reiterate for you. You're ours. We've got you." He leaves me with that, jogging to the field to catch up with the guys.

If I wasn't so exhausted, I would have stood in that spot for the rest of my life, replaying my new happiest moment over and over, relishing in my new support system. Instead, I drove Greyson's truck home without crashing it, and threw my limp body into his bed, the one I've been fantasizing about. It sure lived up to my imagination since I passed the frig out before my head even made it up the bed to the pillows.

***

I wake up about twelve hours later, basically in a comatose state, dying of thirst. My body is diagonal across the bed with all my limbs sprawled out. I've never napped so hard and so aggressively in my life.

I hear the quiet chatter of voices downstairs and freshen up in the bathroom before going down to see what everyone's up to.

"Syn, we've determined that you are, in fact, a grizzly bear," Cameron announces from the living room as I walk into the kitchen to pour myself some water.