Feel-Good Story Romance Short Stories & Campus Novels

We can't settle on our holiday plans, so my girlfriend, Janine Simpson, starts a group chat with the three of us. "Let's roll the dice. Whoever gets the highest number decides. That's the fairest way." My friend, Mitchell Stone, rolls a six and wants to go to Marisport. I roll a one. I wanted to go to Rosemont. Rosemont isn't a random pick. It's the place my late mother had always wanted to visit but never got the chance to. This year marks five years since she passed away, and I've promised her I would see Lake Azure for her. Janine knew that, too. Three months ago, she held my hand and promised she would go with me this year. "Fair's fair. You lost the bet." She sends a little pat-on-the-head sticker in the group chat. This is the 27th time this year that I've rolled a one. The week before, I'd lost when we were choosing a restaurant for our team dinner. The week before that, it was a movie. Then yesterday, I used Janine's tablet to look up travel guides and accidentally came across her synced text messages. Her chat with a friend sat right at the top. "I sent you the dice plugin. It can roll whatever number you want." "Thanks. Cameron can get quite stubborn. This is the only way to get him to agree to things." I stared at those messages for a long time and placed the tablet back where I found it. She has known all along what Rosemont meant to me, and it turns out I haven't been losing because of sheer bad luck. I've been losing because she has already taken someone else's side. I leave the group chat and book a direct flight to Rosemont. On the first day of the holiday at 7:00 am, I will board the plane alone.

During my mother's prenatal testing, the doctor discovers that I, the baby she's carrying, have the XYY syndrome. Since Mom's health is frail, it will be hard for her to have another baby. My parents somberly decide to have me anyway. When I'm in elementary school, my nanny is playing with me when I accidentally break her arm by stepping on it. During middle school, a few thugs try to rob me on the street, only to end up in the hospital because of me. This one incident makes me famous. Word keeps spreading until I become known as a bully in school. No one dares to offend me at all. I've since graduated from college. During a class reunion with my college classmates, Zoey Johnson, my girlfriend of three years, brings Michael Greer, her male best friend, with her. When a game of Truth or Dare starts, Michael bluntly shares one of Zoey's secrets. "I know she has a mole on one of her nips." He looks smug about what he has just revealed. Everyone else has fallen silent. After glancing at Zoey, who's sitting beside Michael, I pull her off the couch and say, "Take your top off. Let's see if he's telling the truth."

The first month of school, I found out the whole school was calling me a leech behind my back. That vicious nickname was coined by my childhood friend Sebastian's new influencer friend, Chloe. Because as far as they were concerned, I always rode to school in Sebastian's car, spent his Venmo, and lived near the old Rivers family estate. But that wasn't the truth. I brought my ruined homework to Sebastian and asked why he let them smear me. He just laughed. "It's a high school joke. Chloe just likes to joke around. Don't be so sensitive." "Besides, you're always riding in my car, following me around. People thinking that... well, it's kind of normal." I froze. Cold went through my whole body. So this. Over a decade of quiet company and quiet protection. In his eyes, I was just a leech. I didn't explain anymore. I applied for early graduation. Off to Columbia University. But when he found out I was leaving, Sebastian went insane, searching everywhere for me. "Maya, where are you going?!"

The SAT results have just been released. I'm the top scorer in the city, and three girls my father raised alongside me also earned the three best scores after me. When it's time to apply to college, Dad says that the three of them will be joining me in whichever college I choose. I choose Heathshire University, my dream school. But on the day before applications close, the three of them drug me and haul me to Stallion Club. "It's all his fault! We followed him to Heathshire University in our previous life, which led to Michael falling into depression and taking his own life!" "I heard that the boss of Stallion Club has a thing for young, innocent men like Samuel. Maybe he'll be so satisfied that he helps us escape from the Carter family, too!" "Once the dust settles, the Carter family's reputation will be ruined for good, and Samuel won't be able to fulfill his dream of getting into a top university. We'll also regain our freedom, and we can be with Michael then!" None of them notice the sneer on my face. No one else knows that the boss of Stallion Club is my long-lost older brother—and he's fiercely protective of me. They'll regain their freedom, huh? Only the dead can truly consider themselves free. The three of them can go to hell and keep their beloved Michael company there.

On Christmas Eve, I made a wish for a miracle: a round, perky, Kardashian-worthy butt. That night, I actually dreamed about Theodore Blake, the ice-cold captain of our college hockey team. He braced one hand on a desk, caging me in as he stared at a glowing screen flickering above it. [A dream you can't escape until you've built the perfect 'XXX'?] He raised an eyebrow. “What's the missing word?” It was only a dream, so I made something up. “It's... 'body.' Who doesn't want the perfect body?” He nodded, though he still looked skeptical. From then on, he appeared in my dreams every night, putting me through a grueling workout routine. He wouldn't let me sleep until I was drenched in sweat. Ten days later, my butt was still nowhere near peach-perfect. Mission failed. The bedroom in my dream suddenly shrank until there was only room for a single dorm bed! He was six-foot-three. I was five-foot-three. And there we were, trapped together, looking utterly helpless. We stared at each other awkwardly. My face burning, I turned away. His eight-pack pressed right up against my back. Wait a second. Why can I feel his skin? And why is he so warm? When I woke up the next morning, I was wrapped up tight in my comforter. After the hockey game that day, Theodore, the campus bad boy, pinned me against the locker room door and glared at me. “Listen, from now on, stop hogging the blanket at night! “And tell me. What the hell does that damn 'XXX' mean?”

A new app has recently gone viral online, called "Talk to Your Future Self". Minutes before my SAT, I decide to give it a try—mostly because everyone else is doing it. I type, "Dear Future Me, did I end up marrying Winona Lane?" The screen flickers, and a second later, a text from an unknown number appears. "Yes. You did. The wedding is spectacular." My heart pounds. I tighten my grip on my phone and immediately type another question. "Was Benjamin Scott my best man? He's my best friend!" The reply comes almost instantly. "Yes. But he isn't just your best man. He's also the man who spends your wedding night with your wife." The smile vanishes from my face. Another message appears. "You never have to deliberately lower your grades or sacrifice your future just to stay with her. She intentionally fails her exam so she can apply to the same college as Benjamin—the guy who is always at the bottom of the class." My fingers tighten around the phone. "She asks you to give up your dream school for her. Not because she can't bear to be apart from you, but because she doesn't want Benjamin to feel inferior to you just because you do better than he does." Just then, the warning bell rings, signaling that it's time to enter the exam room. But my entire body has gone cold, and I can't move. Then another message appears. It's the final one, also the one that shatters everything I think I know. "If you don't believe me, go to the motel behind the school after the exam. You'll see the truth for yourself."

The news of Jared Foley and me breaking up completely stuns our social groups. After all, we've been together for ten whole years. Even the invitations to our wedding are printed. When faced against our friends' doubts and questions, I merely reply, "We broke up over a joke." At a classmates' reunion on the day before, the drunken Chuck Garner, the class president, suddenly asks Jared a question. "Heather's your fiancee, whereas Paige is your first love. Who would you rescue if both of them fall into the sea at the same time?" Jared doesn't even bother glancing at me as he answers immediately, "Paige, of course!" For a moment, the atmosphere in the private room becomes awkward. Soon, someone quickly eases the tension. "Have you all forgotten that Heather used to be the swimming champion back then? She doesn't need Jared to save her!" Jared shoots it down immediately. "Nah. It's because Heather talks too much." A pause later, Chuck bursts out laughing. "It's been ten years! To think that the top scorer has picked up a sense of humor!" Everyone else joins in on the laughter except for me. After all, I know that Jared is speaking the truth. He's already sick and tired of me rambling on and on when I share every little detail that happens in my life with him every day. That's why he mutes my chatbox on WhatsApp. I've always thought that this is a part of Jared's personality. That is, until I accidentally stumble upon the chat history between Jared and Paige. He even makes sure to take photos of what he has for breakfast and sends them to Paige every morning. Only then do I realize that Jared isn't cold and aloof by nature. He's just cold and aloof toward me. In that case, why should I stubbornly cling to the ray of light that has never illuminated my life?

After we'd had a fight, my childhood sweetheart, Adrian Hale, deliberately agreed to take a sophomore named Sienna Reed to Beach House Week on Cape Cod. He was certain I'd do what I always did: get jealous, start a fight, then swallow my pride and beg him to come home. But when he returned to Kingsley University with Sienna a week later, he found me unexpectedly easy to deal with. He gave Sienna my lead creator slot in the National Robotics Challenge. I didn't quit. I organized her test data and rewrote her presentation for her. He backed Sienna in the student council election and picked apart my work during the public debate. I didn't argue. I admitted I could have prepared better and calmly watched her take my seat. Then he tried to hand Professor Moretti's recommendation to her too. I still didn't lose my temper. I even delivered a neatly organized application checklist to Sienna myself. Smug with victory, she told him, "See? You can't keep spoiling a woman like Claire. Give her the cold shoulder, knock her down a peg, and she'll learn to behave." Adrian agreed. He told her she understood people better than anyone. Afterward, he came to see me alone. He promised he'd secure me a direct-entry PhD position at Kingsley and, in an astonishing show of generosity, said he'd propose in front of everyone at graduation. But Adrian had forgotten one small detail. While he was busy entertaining Sienna at Beach House Week, he'd personally approved my transfer to Zurich. I packed the commemorative pin, old records, and love letters he'd given me into a box and sent them back. The Hale family ring he'd planned to propose with would never touch my finger. I was headed for a much bigger world, and I wasn't coming back.

Right before the last full-length practice exam ahead of the SAT, my boyfriend, Blake Romero, who had always ranked in the top ten, somehow ended up with a score of zero. His eyes were red as he clung to me, his voice shaking while he said he had developed severe test anxiety. "Samantha, there's no way I'll get in this year. Can you stay back and retake the year with me? I can't do this without you." Looking at how pale he was, I almost gave in. On my way to the school clinic to grab him some meds to calm his nerves, I accidentally overheard him talking to a girl from a poor family. "Blake, what if Samantha finds out you're lying to her?" His voice turned soft, almost indulgent. "Relax. She loves me so much that she would give up anything for me. Even if she finds out, so what? Besides, her family's loaded. Losing a year won't matter to her. Arrington University only has two spots this year. As long as Samantha doesn't take the exam, those spots are ours." Standing outside the door, I felt as if I had just had a bucket of ice poured over me. So this was his plan! He was willing to ruin my future just to clear the way for the girl he really cared about. What he didn't realize was that Arrington University had only ever been my backup, something I chose just to stay by his side. Without him dragging me down, I could aim for something better.

I'm an orphan too broke to even cover my own college tuition. But I happen to have the exact same face as Cassandra Ashford, heiress to one of the richest families in the city! The young lady sitting across from me, the one wearing my face, slapped a bank card down on the table. "Sixty grand for living expenses. Another three hundred thousand once the job's done." She wanted me to take her place at a business school. The goal: to blow up her arranged marriage to her fiance, Julian Sinclair. Cassandra said she hadn't laid eyes on the guy since she was seven, so I could go ahead without a worry. She was off to chase true love. I thought about the old director lying gravely ill in the hospital, and the orphanage that was one bad month away from shutting down. I said yes without a second's hesitation. What I never saw coming was the first day of school. Riding my rented city bike, I plowed straight into the car of the guy showing up to enroll on the same day: Julian Sinclair. The window rolled down, revealing a face so gorgeous it should have been illegal. Julian stared at my face and let out a cold scoff. "Cassandra." "Haven't seen you in over a decade, and you've already learned to fake a fender-bender for cash?"

The night before graduation, my best friend Sophie talked me into confessing to Lucas Sterling, the boy I'd secretly loved for three years. She said Lucas was at the basketball court, wearing a white T-shirt. I gathered every ounce of courage I had, grabbed the bouquet of roses, and rushed over. I came up behind a boy and covered his eyes with my hands. "Lucas, I've liked you for so long!" I felt his body go rigid. He turned around — and the face staring back at me was dangerously handsome, with a wild edge to his gaze. It was Dominic Blackwood. The one person at Westfield High that nobody dared to cross. I spun around to run, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest. He dipped his head, breathing in the scent of my hair, his voice rough and low. "What did you just say? That you like me?" "Say it again." "If you don't, I'll kiss you right here in front of the whole school."

I've been hiding my excellent grades from my childhood friend, Oliver Barton, for years because of his jealousy. A day before the college entrance exam, he comes clean to me and admits that he's been taking private tutoring lessons without my knowledge for the past three years. His grades are good, and he plans to go to an elite college after graduating high school. I stand there, stunned, listening to his every word. "Viv and I both have excellent grades. There'll soon be even more in common between us both after we go to the same college in Haven City. "Once we're in college, we'll tutor you seriously so you can also get into a better college after you repeat your year." He and my best friend, Vivian Andrade, both have no idea that I've already secured my spot at Dale University through their direct admissions program. I never told them about it because I didn't want their jealousy to jeopardize our pathetic friendship. That's why I still stay with them and study with them in class the whole time. I cling to the last shred of hope for our friendship and ask, "But what if I also manage to secure a spot at a college in Haven City?"

Everyone at Oakridge High had noticed that Claire Walsh, the notoriously boy-crazy bimbo, was acting a little off lately. Before, she was all looks and no brains, spending every waking moment trailing after Floyd Sterling. But out of nowhere, she stopped showing up in front of Floyd and started burying her head in her textbooks instead. Everyone mocked her. "What's the point of you studying now? It's way too late for that." The entire school believed Claire was nothing more than a gorgeous airhead with nothing upstairs. What nobody realized was that it was all an act. For three whole years of high school, she had calculated her exam scores with surgical precision, keeping her grades hovering strictly along the bare passing line. Until the final exam arrived, she finally dropped the act. A month later, when scores were released, she sent shockwaves through the school by landing a perfect score and taking top rank in the entire state. Armed with her stellar results, she headed off to an elite university overseas. What she never expected was that the boy, who had once cold-heartedly warned her to stop clinging to him, would suddenly lose his mind, scouring the world just to track her down.

After my best friend finally met her online boyfriend in person, she offered to introduce me to his best friend. After we got married, my husband was always distant with me. I thought that was just his personality. Then my best friend got divorced, and he chartered a private jet overnight just to go be with her. That was when I finally realized. The woman he had loved all along was my best friend. In the end, I died from an amniotic fluid embolism. I was the only real casualty in their ridiculous mess. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend tried to set me up with Ethan Lawson. "What do you think, Chantelle? Ethan's really great. And if you two get together, the four of us can still hang out all the time." This time, I rejected him without a second thought. "No thanks. I'm not into guys with bleached blond hair."

When the wedding invitation from my high school classmate Ella Reese arrived, a video of her and her friends shoving the two-hundred-pound girl I used to be into a mud pit was already going viral. Her caption read, "Those were the days. Sophie Aubert, you absolutely have to be my bridesmaid." Our former classmates flooded the comments with jeers. "Ella's so generous. She'd actually invite a plagiarist? Will Sophie even fit into a bridesmaid dress? Making one for her would take enough fabric for three people." "It's been seven years. By now, they'd probably need a crane just to get her into the venue!" "Didn't she write Jack a love letter back then? He'll probably be so scared he'll cry." The groom, Jack Smith, replied in the comments, "If she actually has the nerve to show up, I'll dance with her in front of everyone. Call it an apology for throwing her into the fountain back then." The comment section exploded with people cheering him on. I calmly took a sip of unsweetened black coffee. They thought I was still the fat girl with no choice but to hide in a corner and cry. They had no idea I was now a fitness influencer with millions of followers, much less that the luxury estate they had rented for the wedding belonged to me. I replied in the comments, "No need for a bridesmaid dress. I'll be there on time." This time, I would tear down her perfect facade myself and give Ella a wedding she would never forget.