Oliver was the kind of guy who kept his head down. College wasn’t some excuse to get wasted and washed out. He wasn’t like the rest of the spoiled trust fund babies on campus. His grants only got him so far and he was already bleeding money with his loans. Why the fuck was a doctoral so expensive?

Even if he did have the time and money, parties hardly interested him. He’d seen substances ruin too many lives already. Sure he could have a beer or two, but anything more and he got squeamish, and not because of the alcohol.

Oliver didn’t have help, a washed up teen mom who lost herself in drugs before he turned eighteen. A deadbeat dad he’d never spoken to. He had this one shot. He didn’t get the luxury of parties or carefree early adult hood. He went to class, picked up a shift at either job he worked, went home, studied and crashed in his bed.