Fresh Start, Same Secrets

Author’s Note

Hey, you.

Before you dive into Cam and Fox’s story, just a quick heads-up: this book touches on some heavier stuff—like homophobia, a little family drama, and one scene with a slap that still makes me wince. It’s not the whole story, but it’s there.

At its core, Kiss Me In The Dark is about falling hard, fumbling through feelings, and finding light in unexpected places. If it makes you laugh, cry, or scream into a pillow (in a good way), I’d love if you left a comment. Seriously—it means the world.

Now go meet the boys. I think you’ll love them.

With love and chaos,

Goddy Francis

CHAPTER ONE

Fresh Start, Same Secrets

“You need to stay away from these fraternity boys. I don’t want them ruining your reputation, your scholarship, or making you lose focus. Your father and I just want the best for you, okay?” Mom says as we near my new apartment.

I stare out the window, taking in the streets of this new town. It’s not bad—comfortable enough for a college student. I should have resumed college a week ago, but Dad and Mom had other ideas. Before the resumption date, my father toured the campus with me, sat in during orientation, and even looked through the dorms. I was supposed to live in the dorms, but my parents had other ideas. Off-campus living seemed safer to them, especially since I’m a freshman. They’re terrified I’ll stray off the path they’ve laid out for me. Like I would.

I’ve promised myself I’ll do better. Maybe even date a girl, to shake off this confusing attraction I’ve always had toward guys. Focus on school, get a job, support my family, and avoid the typical athlete jerks who infest every college campus.

Pushing my glasses up, I step out of the car, shut the door, and grab my bags. Mom insists on driving me here, helping me settle in. More than anything, she wanted to meet my roommate, to make sure he wasn’t a “bad influence.” If he was, they’d find me a new place in a heartbeat.

Mom and I approach an older man by the parking lot as he waves at us. I stare at the tall modern building, taking in the architecture.

“Mrs. Brooke!” A man greets us as we approach him, extending his hand to my mom. They shake hands, exchanging pleasantries.

“And you must be Cameron,” the man says, turning to me with a wide grin. He must be the landlord.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, shaking his hand.

“Good to meet you. Let me show you your new apartment.” He leads us into a lobby and we follow.

The three of us ride the elevator to the 12th floor as the elevator opens and we step out. The man leads us to the door by the end of the hallway. He fishes out the key from his pockets and open the door and we walk inside.

There is no way in hell we can afford this place. It’s not a luxurious apartment, but it’s beautiful enough to know it costs a lot to stay here.

I busy myself by checking out the living room area. It’s clean and decently kept. Maybe Fox—my new roommate—might be the neat type.

There’s a music set and an Xbox, with a huge flat TV screen on the wall. The couches look almost new, and everything is neatly arranged. I’m starting to feel better about this place.

“Fox isn’t around right now. He’s probably at school or soccer practice,” the landlord says.

“He’s an athlete?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” the landlord replies with a nod. “But don’t worry, Fox is a good kid.”

Mom, of course, narrows her eyes. “I hope he doesn’t like parties or get into any trouble.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Brooke, Fox won’t be an issue.”

Mom turns to me. “Why don’t you take your bags to your room, Cam? I’ll be right there after I finish talking with Mr. William.”

I grab my bags and head down the hallway. “Your room’s the first door on the left,” the landlord calls after me.

The room is clean enough, though it could use a little more attention. I sit on the bed and run my hands through my blonde hair, breathing into my palms.

Why am I nervous?

Maybe because this is the first time I’m really on my own. High school was rough, and things haven’t been the same with my family ever since. Both of my parents are homophobic, and, well, I ended up being their worst fear.

Back in high school, I had a crush on Bryson. He wasn’t a jock, but still popular. I used to watch him from a distance, convincing myself it was just admiration. I didn’t know much about being gay. I thought it was normal to admire someone, a guy or a girl. But eventually, I realized I never looked at girls the way I looked at him.

One day, during a game of truth or dare, I was dared to write him a love letter. I don’t know why I did it—maybe to prove I wasn’t a coward—but I wrote him a letter, spilling out everything.

It was a mistake. Bryson cornered me the next day at school, with his friends, and beat me up. Called me a “fucking fag” and spread rumors that I’d tried to seduce him. I skipped school for four days, and when my parents found out, I told them the truth. I couldn’t lie.

High school was hell after that. Bryson and his friends tormented me whenever they felt like it. Now, college is my chance to start fresh. I just need to stay away from guys, avoid jerks, and maybe try dating a girl. A clean slate.

“Cameron?” Mom’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she walks into the room.

“I just paid the rent,” she says, glancing around and smiling. “You haven’t started unpacking? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” I say, standing. “I’ll start now.”

“Is this about that Bryson kid?” she asks, her tone sharpening.

“Jesus, Mom, that was high school. I regret it, okay?”

“It’s good to hear you regret it. Just don’t make that mistake again.”

“Noted,” I mutter.

Mom helps me unpack, and once we’re done, she gives me a hug and heads out. After she leaves, I quickly shower and throw on dark jeans, my university hoodie, and my old sneakers. Grabbing my backpack, I head out the door, locking it behind me.

I navigate the campus using my phone, but this place is huge. I mean I’ve been here before, but it looks like I haven’t. I’m not too good with new places and it takes me a few days, sometimes weeks, to know directions. Lost in thought, I accidentally bump into someone, knocking their books to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, scrambling to pick them up.

“No, it’s my fault!” she says. The voice belongs to a petite redhead with striking blue eyes. She’s beautiful, but not in a way that stirs anything inside me.

“I’m Leanne,” she says, extending her hand.

“Cameron,” I reply, shaking it.

“Freshman?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle.

“I’m a sophomore. Where are you headed? I can show you the way.”

“Political science building,” I say, adjusting my glasses.

“Perfect! That’s where I’m going.” She grabs my arm and leads me through the maze of buildings.

I glance down at Leanne’s hand resting on my arm, debating whether I should gently pull away. It’s not that I’ve never been touched by a girl before, but Leanne is practically a stranger, and the contact feels off.

I know I’m not “hot” or “sexy” like the kind of guys girls usually talk about, but I’ve been told more than once that I’m good-looking. The problem is, I’m also a bit of a nerd and painfully awkward in social situations. I’ve never been great with crowds or friends, probably because I’ve never had many of either.

She talks about her major, but I’m too distracted to say much. Her British accent is charming, though. When we reach my class, she smiles. “Maybe we can grab coffee sometime and talk politics?”

“Sure,” I say, not quite sure if she’s asking me out.

She beams, then heads off.

I step out of my third class for the day, feeling completely drained. My stomach grumbles, and exhaustion weighs down every step. All I can think about is food, sleep, and maybe a nap somewhere between the two. As I shuffle along the campus, not really paying attention to where I’m going, I hear a familiar voice call my name.

“Cameron.”

I turn and see Leanne walking toward me with a smile, waving goodbye to a friend as she approaches.

“You just finished class?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, barely managing a nod. “And I’m exhausted.”

Leanne grins. “You wanna grab something to eat? I know a great café that sells amazing pizza and other good stuff.”

I hesitate, unsure of what I even feel like doing. But then again, making a new friend might not be so bad. “Sure,” I say with a shrug.

We head to the café, and as soon as we step inside, I’m hit with the comforting smell of coffee and fresh pizza. My stomach grumbles again, reminding me how badly I need this. We place our orders—pizza for both of us, though Leanne gets a milkshake while I stick to coffee. If I want to make it back to my apartment without collapsing, I need the caffeine.

We find a quiet booth tucked away in the corner and sit down.

“So, how was your class?” she asks, taking a sip of her milkshake.

“Pretty good,” I say, leaning back in the seat. “How about yours?”

“Not bad,” she replies, though she winces a little. “Although my last class was rough. I’ve got a project due Wednesday and haven’t even started.” She lets out a small laugh.

“That’s…bad, right?” I say, unsure of what else to add.

Leanne laughs again, a genuine sound that makes me smile despite my tiredness. “You’re cute. So, where are you from?”

“I was born in Florida. My mom’s originally from Florida actually and my dad’s from here.” I tug absentmindedly at a loose thread on my hoodie, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion catching up with me. “My parents lived in Florida their whole life until they decided to move across the country, right to Seattle when I was ten.”

“Back to the roots, huh?” Leanne says as she chuckles, “You don’t really seem like a Florida guy.”

I glance up at her, shrugging. “Are you British?”

She gives me a mock scandalized look. “Duh, like my accent didn’t give it away?” she teases, and we both chuckle lightly.

There’s a brief pause before Leanne leans forward with a grin. “Hey, there’s a party this Friday. You should come. It’ll be fun—you won’t regret it.”

A party? I’ve never been to one, and honestly, it sounds more stressful than exciting. I have a scholarship to maintain, and getting involved in parties seems like a shortcut to ruining that. Plus, my parents wouldn’t exactly approve.

“Um… I don’t know, Leanne.” I sigh, glancing around the café, trying to find the words to let her down gently.

She’s saying something else, voice animated and upbeat—but I don’t hear a word. My attention has been hijacked.

Two booths behind her, someone is sitting there, hunched over his phone, one arm draped lazily across the back of the booth. He has that kind of effortless cool that doesn’t try too hard—dark jeans hugging long legs, a white tee stretched just enough across a lean chest, and a worn black leather jacket tossed beside him like he owns the place.

Tousled brown hair sticks out from under a backward black cap, strands falling slightly over his forehead. He shifts slightly, and even from this distance, I catch a glimpse of sharp cheekbones, a cut jawline, and full lips curved in a natural scowl.

He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just walk into a room—he takes it over without saying a word.

And then, like he feels me watching, his head lifts.

Blue eyes meet mine. Not soft blue. No, icy—the kind that could freeze you in place or set you on fire, depending on his mood.

For a split second, I forget how to breathe.

His gaze holds mine with a quiet, cocky intensity. Like he already knows he’s got my attention. Like he’s daring me to keep looking.

I should look away. I need to look away. But I don’t.

My breath catches in my throat.

Who in the world is that?